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Discover the story of Clara Jones, a full-time teacher whose remarkable wartime experiences included assisting the wounded aboard a hospital ship, and at hospitals in Alexandria, Virginia, and at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
Historian John Lustrea will tell the story of forgotten Civil War nurse Clara Jones at the Clara Barton Missing Soldiers Office Museum on January 27 at 11 AM.
Since entering the public record in 2003 when Clara Jones’ letters were donated to the museum, very few have read them. They tell an incredible tale of sacrifice and compassion. Jones was an unmarried 28 year old single woman when the Civil War broke out. While she wanted desperately to rush to the front to comfort sick and wounded soldiers, she needed the pay of her full-time teaching job to support herself. That did not stop her from traveling to the front on school breaks of any length. Come hear about her amazing efforts.
John Lustrea is the blog editor and website manager at the National Museum of Civil War Medicine. He received his MA in Public History from the University of South Carolina, Columbia. John spent four summers working at Harpers Ferry National Historical Park as a seasonal ranger.
HOURS:
The Clara Barton Missing Soldiers Office Museum is open on Fridays and Saturdays from 11:00 AM – 5:00 PM for walk-ins. All other times, the Museum will be open only to groups of 10+. Click here to reserve a group tour.
Opens at 11:00 AM
Last Admission at 4:30 PM
PHONE:
(202) 824-0613
LOCATION:
437 7th Street NW
Washington, D.C. 20004
Looking for our Mailing Address?
The preserved rooms are accessible by both stairs and elevator.
Admission rates apply.
Carolyn Ivanhoff presents a first-person look at the life and work of Clara Barton
I may sometimes be willing to teach for nothing, but if paid at all, I shall never do a man’s work for less than a man’s pay.
When I reached [home], and looked in the mirror, my face was still the color of gunpowder, a deep blue. Oh yes, I went to the front!
[She] toiled as few men could have done, stanching wounds which might otherwise have proved fatal, administering cordials to the fainting soldier, cheering those destined to undergo amputation, moistening lips parched with thirst [and closing the eyes of the dead].
Though it is little that one woman can do, still I crave the privilege of doing it.
I don’t know how long it has been since my ear has been free from the roll of a drum. It is the music I sleep by and I love it.
I only wish I could work to some purpose. I have no right to these easy comfortable days and our poor men suffering and dying thirsting … My lot is too easy and I am sorry for it.
It was a miserable night. There was a sense of impending doom. We knew, everyone knew, that two great armies of 80,000 men were lying there face to face, only waiting for dawn to begin the battle.
I ask neither pay or praise, simply a soldier’s fare and the sanction of your Excellency to go and do with my might, whatever my hands can find to do.
The patriot blood of my father was warm in my veins.