the united states army presents "the big picture," an official report produced by the armed forces for the american people. now to show you part of the big picture here is sergeant stuart queen. >> 100 years ago a momentous event occurred. known to historians as the tragic war of brother against brother, the civil war became one of the darkest moments in our history. out of this period we have selected two stories to show you. the first is called mathew brady. brady was the first pictorial historian of any war, and his pictures live on today to recall yesterday's history. the second story is called clara barton and shows a segment from the life of a dedicated woman during the civil war. now let's go back through history with mathew brady. >> the camera's eye. the magic eye that captures and holds the moment's action, a pinpoint in time. today the camera serves an ever expanding field of uses familiar to all servicemen, and yet for most of us photography appeals by fixing permanently chapters in our own lives and in the lives of those around us, but there was a day before the high-speed precision instrument, a day of crude wooden box cameras. fortunately for us it was also a day where a small group of pioneers with imagination foresaw the possibilities of that magic eye. matthew brady, a young new york state farm boy was chief among the enthusiasts. in addition to his own work, brady collected the prints of others building a picketial record of our american past. the nation's capital in an era of unpaved dirt streets and horse drawn vehicles. replacing that earlier white house destroyed in the war of 1812 was the handsome new home our presidents. when we speak of those past presidents, their faces are familiar. john quincy adams. martin van buren. andrew jackson. their faces were made familiar through the work of mathew brady. preserved for us, too, are those early writers, pride of our growing national culture, nathaniel hawthorne, edgar allan p poe, washington irving, the beloved poet walt whitman, and what schoolboy doesn't know the faces of our statesmen henry clay, john calhoun, daniel webster, men who shape and guided our young republic. they built well, but soon within the country's capital still awaiting the completion of the now familiar dome, the storm clouds of the slavery issue threaten national unity. as the crisis sharpened, brady saw a new use for the camera. abraham lincoln whom brady had photographed as a young congressman from illinois, now sat in washington as president of the divided nation. from him brady received permission to make a record of the war that could not be held back. we are coming, father abraham, so sang the volunteer units responding to lincoln's call to arms. hastily constructed camps sprang up, crude and comfortless by today's standards. the growing manpower had to be supplied and equipped, furnished with the weapons needed to fight this country's bloodiest war, a means to move those masses of supplies and equipment were organized and assembled. this was a day before the phrase motor pool had been coined. old-in was the hay powered engine that turned the wheels of war. the now middle-aged brady and his assistants recorded all. what is it wagons what is the name soldiers gave to the mysterious horse-drawn photo labs that brady sent into the field. the clumsy contraptions were to become a familiar sight wherever men were mustered and trained. training then meant the inevitable close order drill but also long forgotten formation such as the hollow square defense against cavalry attack. the cigarette had not yet been invented, but the civilian turned soldier took ten and welcomed that brief break from duty. preparation has its own grim ends. the conflict flared into full flame and presently the capital itself had to fling up hasty defenses against sudden and determined attack. war now in full violence was being carried to our inland waters as well as on the high seas. the nation's shipyards were turning out newer, more effective gun boats. for the first time naval warfare saw revolutionary new ships sheathed in armor. the expanding navy had ceased to be the property of the new england states with their deeply rooted sea-farring traditions. men and more men were needed, and they came from inland cities in the western plains. mechanic and farmer proved they, too, could develop sea legs and man a 40-pounder. mere boys were enlisted, too, youngsters who could run powder to the waiting gun crews. the awakening sciences of the century found uses on the battlefield. the telegraph core from which emerged today's signal core brought new speed into communications. so highly technical was their work considered that even linesmen were often civilian technicians. born, too, was warfare's first venture into the skies. balloon reconnaissance was employed to spot enemy batteries. the balloon was frequently set adrift in the belief that a favorable breeze would carry it back. sometimes it did. of civilian originalin was the publicly endowed united states sanitary commission. one day it would evolve into our present american red cross. the tragic aspects of all wars past and future were soon evident. this was richmond, virginia. charlest charleston. fredericksburg. war meant, too, the uprooted, the homeless refugee, the prisoner of war doomed to a captivity under subhuman conditions. these were the wounded in an era when the trifling flesh wound would lead to gangrene and amputation. when hospitals were few and far behind the lines. finally, war meant those who would fight no more, so ended 483,000 americans north and south, a total not even reached in world war ii. what we know of the day-to-day life of the man who served. well, like his counterpart today he lived in countless company streets. winter quarters were crude log shacks built by himself. in new fatigue and details, they killed boredom in his own way and polished up before endless inspections and reviews. when and where possible he enjoyed rare visits from family and friends. there was no handy px but licensed tradesmen called settlers set up shot and even followed the troops into the field and on their campaigns. great grandpa posed for photos to send to his girl back home. sent his folks a picture of the outfit, too, and his own buddies. like today there was always one comic, one clown. the service man of that far off day carried his faith into the field. doubtless he prayed for survival and for the war's end. it came at appomatox with the collapse of the confederacy and general lee's surrender to general grant. yes, peace came, but only after battlefields like gettysburg had immortalized in blood the courage of brother ranged against brother. gettysburg where a parade and now forgotten ceremonies introduced a never-to-be forgotten address by the war-weary lincoln. within two years the president dedicated the binding of the nation's wounds was shot down by the assassin john wilkes booth. the camera brings usford's theater, the final scene of the presidential box where the tragedy struck. it brings us to the actress laura keene, the last person on whom the unsuspecting president's gaze rested. it has even preserved for us the 21-year-old dr. liel who emerged from the horon-stricken crowd to attend the dying lincoln. an era had ended, the first but not the last to be seen through the magic eye of the camera. the pages of our history with new pages yesterday to be added. all our yesterdays are preserved for generations to come. for this achievement, a major share of our gratitude must rest with the man whose foresight made it possible. earliest of american combat photographers, he lived to within four years of our own century, the pioneer, mathew brady. clara barton is famous in history today as the founder of the american red cross. to the wounded soldiers of the civil war, both the blue and the gray, however, she was remembered as the angel of mercy who fed them and treated their wounds. she had no official standing. she received no money for her services, yet this dedicated woman devoted her life to the cause of humanity. >> it was the fall of 1862. for more than a year, the civil war had raged, and the union army of the potomac had only known a series of sharp defeats. many casualties were high, and the means of caring for them tragically inadequate. hundreds who could have been saved died in the field for lack of proper care. already a part of history were the battles which we know as bull run, the seven days and jackson's valley campaign. each had been a costly failure for the union forces, and in the north people began to wonder if the south could be defeated and the union preserved. in the most tragic and bitterly buentive fighting our nation has ever known, american fought against american, and the casualty lists for both sides skyrocketed as on american hills and in american valleys cannon and musket flung their hot metal among the men and horses of both sides. the spectacle of suffering was pittious, perhaps especially so to clara barton for she decided to do something about it. the already spare face of the man in the white house seemed to grow even more gaunt under a constant flood of criticism and urgent demands for an early end to the war. general robert e. lee did not help the situation as south of the potomac he added a measure to the legend of his invincibility by routing a vastly superior union force at manassas junction. general john pope, who canneded the union forces of manassas, was simply out-generaled and outfought by lee's troops under the immediate leadership of stonewall jackson. flushed with repeated successes and confident of their own destiny, lee's forces boldly took the offensive. word was flashed to washington that the army of virginia was invading the north. speculation and rumor began to whisper that the end of the war was in sight. as the threat to washington grew, lincoln sent word to nearby alexandria an urgent call to the ex general in chief to the union army. general george mcclellan had been in disgrace after his pens lar campaign. now, lincoln summoned his back. his orders, stop lee at all costs. those costs were to be high. on september 17th, 1862, union and confederate forces would meet at antietam creek between sharptown and haigersburg, maryland. more than 100,000 men would be involved in the bloody battle of antietam. and one woman, clara barton, would carve for herself a unique place in the annals of service to mankind. the day the battle began, however, she was just a dedicated woman driving a wagon loaded with provisions across the rolling maryland countryside. years later, she would recall that day of blood and anguish and retell it in her own words. >> with my attendant i sought the hilltops, and as the mist cleared away and the morning sun broke over the maryland heights, its rays fell upon the dusty forms of dying men. many of you may never hear the bugle notes which call men to battle, but if like us you had heard them that grim september morning as they rang through the valley and echoed from the 100 hills, they would have lingered in your ears as they do in mine. ♪ the battle had commenced on the right, and thinking our place might be there, we had been following the army since dawn. for the last eight miles we could trace its course by the broken bodies of the wounded who rested along the roadside. turning into a cornfield near a house and barn, we stopped in the rear of the last gun. judging that surgesons must be operating there, i took my arms full of stimulants and bandages and approached the house. and approached the house. the smell of death hung heavy in the yard. a table stood on the porch with a wounded man lying on it, a surgeon working over him with the most rudimentary equipment. there, i came face to on face with one of the kindest, noblest doctors i have ever known, dr. dunn of sonatville, pennsylvania. i quickly learned of his difficulties. they had not a bandage, rag, lint or string and all around him, she would wounded men were pleading to death. with a great joy, i laid my precious down among them and thought never before did linen look so white. he told him of my needs and he decided to soldier to help me with the unloading of supplies. there was a spring house in the yard and i decided to use this as my headquarters. my instructions were to unload the provisions and place them inside for the ordeal that would follow. we had met wounded men walking or being carried to the rear for the last two miles. but around the barn, there lay the men who were too badly wounded to admit removal. some 300 had collected already and it was scarcely 10:00. the echo of the gun promised there would be many more. my first act on the field taught me the real tragedy of battle. a man called to me for a drink. i stopped to give it and having raised him in my arms was holding him. he fell back, dead, a bullet had fed between us, tearing a hole in my sleeve and burying itself in the body. i have never mended that hole in my sleeve and i wonder if a soldier ever does mend the bullet hole in his soul. the patient endurance of these men was astonishing. by the wooden fence, a soldier lay with a bullet launched in his chic. i told him i would go for the surgeon, but he said, they can't come from for me now, he said. i have to wait my turn. please, you take out the bullet for me. this was a new call. i could not with stand his entreaty. nearby lay a sergeant from illinois with a bullet directly through both his legs. when he saw that i had no way of supporting the soldier's head, he shoved himself along the ground with a desperate effort and took the wounded man's head in his hands. ♪ i do not think a surgeon would have pronounced it a scientific operation. the doctor suffered almost as much as the patient. but from the relief the man had from his pain, i dared to hope it was successful. three times that day, the ground was contested, lost and won. and each time, it brought hundreds of wounded from the field to our crowded ground. each had to be aided and each drained our supplies to the danger mark. at 2:00, an attendant came to tell me that the last loaf of bread had been cut and the last chaker pounded. we had three boxes of wine still unopened. what should they do? open the wine and give them that, i said, and god help us. the next instant brought a shout from sergeant fields who had opened the first box. of 12 boxes of wine which we carried, the first nine were packed in sawdust. these last three, when all else was gone, were found to be packed in indian cornmeal. a woman does not hesitate long under such circumstances. there was a fireplace in the spring house. kettles were picked up and set over the fire and as quickly as i tell it, i was mixing water and meal for groll. all the day, my men cared buckets of hot gruel from the buckets to the wounded and lying where they fell. food was given both north and south alike, recognizing the need, not the uniform. ♪ never again was i to experience such a sensation of wealth and competency. we fed hundreds that day. for many, it was the first meal since the guns of battle sfloeded that morning. for many, it provided the will and to endure their pain. twilight began to descend and there were still many to be tended. for the first time since i arrived, i saw dr. dunn stop and stand alone in the darkness. you look tired, doctor, i said. yes, he was tired. tired of neglect and heartlessness. here were hundreds of men to be operated on and there was no light to work by. it was then that i called for the lantern diet brought in the wagon. he looked at me, saying little, but his eyes reflected his gratitude. through the long starlit night, we worked and hoped and prayed. the lights were never flush and the tables were never empty. to some we could promise repair and hope. all we could give to others was a comfortable place to die. men died that night, slowly and with full relation that life was ebbing out of them. it was to be a northern victory, but the victory was costly for both sides. while the guns grew silent, the sounds of tortured men filled the air as an encore of battle. how does one measure victory? an tooem teet yumm was a victory for the union. the cannon remained on the field while the south retreated across the river. the high tide of the confederacy was turned back. the emancipation proclamation was born. but to me, the real victory, the real courage of that memorable day was the endurance of all the soldiers to the greatest physical agony and mental anguish, the greatest inhumanity that man can create for man to them belongs the honor, the memory, the triumph of that day. ♪ ♪ >> throughout the weekend here on american history tv on c-span3, watch personal interviews about historic events on oral history. our history bookshelf features some of the best known history writers. revisit key figures, battles and events during the 150e anniversary of the civil war. visit college classrooms across the country during lectures of history. go behind the scenes at museumes and historic sites on american artifacts and the presidency looks at the policies and legacies of past american presidents. view our complete schedule
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