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A Veteran’s First Vehicle: Incorporating the Automobile into the Army during WWI

By Bobby Brito, Oral History Intern

The Great War inaugurated the twentieth century, while the proliferation of the internet can be thought of as one of the events that bookended the twentieth century. Conventional conversations would not typically involve both events in relation with each other. However, through my work at the Wisconsin Veterans Museum these two events are inextricably linked. In preparation of the centennial anniversary of the United States involvement in World War I, I have worked in the museum’s Research Center with the Museum’s collection of World War I oral history interviews. I have been tasked with using the Oral History Metadata Synchronizer in order to index these interviews and make them publicly accessible on the internet.

The interviews provide a wealth of information that cannot be gleaned from history textbooks or other archival sources.  For example, in his interview John Pavlik (OH 464) describes his experiences with a new technology and mode of transportation that was being integrated into the armed services when he enlisted, the automobile. The prior generation of medical transporters, Pavlik explains, relied on mule drawn wagon ambulances in order to transport patients from the front. Travelling in a convoy, Pavlik describes, could be difficult.

 Wisconsin Veterans Museum Collection – John Pavlik, World War I – Every Veterans Is a Story

No windshields, no side curtains, and you carried either eight patients sitting up or four     on litters… if you were second and third you just were feeling your way because of the dust and so forth. You had no clear vision of the road… No windshields, no—none of that. If it rained, it rained in on you, and you put your poncho in front of you to keep water off your legs and feet […]it was hard riding, really.

While riding in an early ambulance versus a horse drawn carriage may not have felt very different, the early ambulance ride was certainly faster. Automobiles also eventually replaced horses when it came to transporting heavy artillery. Pavlik recalls how soldiers were trained to value the lives of their horses above their own in the event of a gas attack.

Wisconsin Veterans Museum Collection – John Pavlik, World War I – Every Veterans Is a Story

As you know, all our guns were moved up by horses. The horses and the guns were moved up sometimes very fast, and we would be in the area where when we would get shelled they would drop shells which were filled with gas. We would then hear the Klaxon horn go “oo-ah, oo-ah, oo-ah,” whereby meant that you put your gas mask on. Well, the boys that were taking care of the artillery, the horses, their job was to put the gas mask on the horse first before they put their own mask on themselves. Horses were very valuable, and we needed that.

In a number of ways, automobiles helped to save the lives of soldiers, whether by transporting wounded soldiers faster, or by making the war effort more efficient.

The past couple of months have truly been an exciting time for me as I worked with WVM’s Oral Historian, Ellen Brooks, preparing these interviews as part of the WVM’s larger efforts to memorialize the U.S.’s involvement in World War I. The interviews represent a broad array of experiences, and provide different perspectives from which to learn about World War I. It is my hope that these interviews, now more readily accessible thanks to the internet, provide the public with a similarly illuminating experience.

To listen to the complete interview with John Pavlik, and other interviews with World War I veterans, visit our Featured Interviews Page.

A Shared Experience

Written By: Andrea Hoffman, Collections Manager

While there are numerous reasons Wisconsin residents have joined the military over the last 150 years—each generation met with unique historical events and changing social expectations—serving one’s country has also been a shared experience within families. Whether a parent and child, siblings, or spouses, serving simultaneously or successively, answering the call to duty through tradition or circumstance, many such families have left their multi-generational stories in the care of our museum. Such is the case of the collection from Orville W. Martin Sr. and Orville W. Martin Jr., a father and son from the Oshkosh area who each gave over thirty years as career officers in the United States Army.

c. 1944 photograph of recently-promoted Colonel Orville W. Martin Sr., Division Artillery Commander of the 7th Armored Division.

c. 1944 photograph of recently-promoted Colonel Orville W. Martin Sr., Division Artillery Commander of the 7th Armored Division.

Orville W. Martin Sr.—better known as “Doc”—was born in Neenah, Wisconsin in 1897. He began his studies at the United States Military Academy at West Point in 1917, although World War I quickly intervened, leaving Martin to serve as a field artillery officer in Germany before completing his education. Following his 1919 graduation, he returned overseas for an influential tour of the battlefields of Europe. This experience gave him a great personal interest in the history of the war and its landscape, knowledge that would prove useful later in his career.

In 1920, Doc joined the 24th Field Artillery stationed in the Philippines. It was here he met his future wife Priscilla, the sister of one of his fellow officers. They married in 1922, and moved back to Oshkosh the next year ahead of the birth of their first and only child, Orville W. “Sonny” Martin Jr.

Doc’s career moved them all around the country during Sonny’s youth. The younger Martin described post life during a 1995 oral history interview as happy and well adjusted. Clearly, it was also influential, as it became apparent in his teens that he would follow in his father’s footsteps. His father had already included Sonny in base maneuvers since he was twelve, letting him dress in uniform and drive teams of horses right along with the troops. His father also sent him to radio school, made him learn to lay wire, and of particular future use, helped him become proficient in map reading.

While Doc attended Command General Staff School in Baton Rouge in 1940, world events again intervened. He was sent to Fort Knox, training grounds for the 7th Cavalry Brigade (Mechanized)—the Army’s first mechanized unit—to be one of the first to implement tactics in the new field of armored field artillery. Major Martin was given command of the 68th Field Artillery Battalion in 1941, and was sent to North Africa the following year with the 1st Armored Division.

This January 1924 postcard labeled “Junior’s Smile” shows Doc and Sonny while in Fort Lewis, Washington.

This January 1924 postcard labeled “Junior’s Smile” shows Doc and Sonny while in Fort Lewis, Washington.

The same year, Sonny moved to Madison to attend the University of Wisconsin, also participating in the University’s compulsory ROTC program. In 1943, he turned down a transfer to West Point, instead choosing the Enlisted Reserve Corps. He explained it was “because my father was already overseas and I thought the war was more important than going to the school for boys on the Hudson… I knew I wanted to be in the war. I felt very strongly about it.”

Early in 1943, the elder Martin was injured during the attack on Sened Station in Tunisia, taking shrapnel in both his leg and arm. The March 15, 1943 issue of Life featured a full page image of the wounded Martin, arm in sling, on his way back to Fort Knox. Following his recovery at Fort Knox, now-Colonel Martin was put in command of the 7th Armored Division Artillery. He arrived in England in June of 1944, was sent to France that August, and found his division redirected to the Netherlands before ultimately being ordered to St. Vith, Belgium on December 16th, the commencement of the Battle of the Bulge. Here, the 7th significantly slowed the German advance for a week before being forced to withdraw. Eventually, they would regain St. Vith before redirecting their efforts toward the fall of the remaining German resistance within the Ruhr Pocket.

Lt. Martin strikes a pose similar to his father’s while the Aide-de-camp to Brigadier General Kurtz, April 1946.

Lt. Martin strikes a pose similar to his father’s while the Aide-de-camp to Brigadier General Kurtz, April 1946.

At the same time, the younger Martin was preparing for his own deployment to Europe. Having completed Armor School in December 1943, 2nd Lieutenant Martin headed to Camp Bowie, Texas with the 13th Armored Division to assist in battle training. In April 1944, the 13th was suddenly stripped of the majority of their lower ranks. Sonny recalled being reassured despite this action by a speech from General George C. Marshall, who stated “I can’t tell you what or exactly why, but you are very soon going … to be very proud of the men you trained and of the contribution that you have made toward the war.” Unbeknownst to them then, their troops were separated in order to participate in the Normandy Invasion, a testament to the superior training of the 13th despite being a newer armored division.

The 13th’s officers spent the remainder of 1944 training, finally arriving overseas early in 1945. In April, they commenced a long march to relieve the 4th Armored Division near Kassel, Germany, but were redirected—just like Sonny’s father—to instead assist in closing off the Ruhr Pocket. While until now the 13th had met minimal opposition, it was not always the case in the lingering Ruhr Pocket resistance. Sonny recounted, “It varied and you didn’t know what you were going to hit next. You could hit one of these old German units that were tough as nails. I asked my father about this and he said, “Well… some of the severest fighting I saw was in the Ruhr Pocket. Some of those old German units just were not going to quit.”

This was not the only commentary on the war the father and son shared. Sonny described Doc’s appreciation of the 13th’s troops during a visit in Bavaria in May of 1945, explaining “… my father came down from Halle [Germany] where he was Division Artillery Commander… he said, ‘You know I could darn near have cried…I’ve talked to some of your soldiers and some of yours in the Battalion here…these people could have been officers in the 7th Armored Division… they’re better material than some of the officers we had who were good combat officers—it showed, you know, the caliber of people.” It was high praise indeed coming from a man with over 25 years of experience in the Army.

The elder Martin returned stateside that year, and eventually retired as a Colonel from the Army in 1950, having been decorated by three European nations as well as the recipient of two Silver Stars, the Legion of Merit, three Bronze Stars, the Purple Heart and the French Croix de Guerre with Palm.

Sonny remained in Germany with the Constabulary force until 1949. He went on to serve in Korea and Taiwan, and worked at the Pentagon before becoming the Editor in Chief of Armor Magazine. He retired, also as a Colonel, in 1974, having been awarded the Legion of Merit, two Bronze Stars, the Meritorious Service Medal, three Army Commendation Medals, and the French Croix de Guerre.

A Fateful Day

By Andrea Hoffman, Collections Manager

Rhoda Ann Ziesler

Rhoda Ann Ziesler

The Wisconsin Veterans Museum is rich with stories of World War II veterans who eagerly and patriotically answered the call to service following the December 7, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor. Fewer are the accounts of Wisconsin service members who had already enlisted prior to the decisive moment in history. Because of the scarcity of such collections, the museum is privileged to have recently received the highly comprehensive collection of Rhoda Ann Ziesler, a Manitowoc, Wisconsin native who served in the Army Nurse Corps beginning in 1940. Not only was Captain Ziesler one of the first–if not the very first–nurses from Wisconsin called to active duty, chance had stationed her on the island of Oahu on that fateful day, making her a firsthand witness to the harrowing event and its aftermath.

Ziesler had begun her nursing career at Manitowoc’s Holy Family Hospital. When she later signed up to assist the Red Cross, she was asked to indicate whether or not she’d between willing to serve her country, a question she answered in the affirmative. Ziesler then entered the Army Nurse Corps on December 16, 1940, almost one year to the day before the Pearl Harbor attack. During November of 1941 she was transferred from her training grounds at Camp Custer, Michigan to the 215th General Hospital located at Schofield Barracks in central Oahu, appointed head nurse of a 112 bed ward. During this time she served as the assistant to the chief nurse for the 600 bed hospital as well as acting supervisor of six other nurses.

While Schofield Barracks, a long-established mobile defense post for Pearl Harbor, was not a direct target that December morning, the adjacent Wheeler Army Airfield was a primary point of attack preceding the assault on the harbored fleet. Ziesler later recounted her experience while applying for the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association, recalling, “On the morning of the attack, I and several other nurses were on duty and stepped outdoors to see what was happening. The Japanese planes were flying so low. We could see the rising sun [on the planes].”

Artifacts from the Rhoda Ann Ziesler Collection

Artifacts from the Rhoda Ann Ziesler Collection

Ziesler’s collection represents both ends of the spectrum of her service experience, from souvenirs reflecting a carefree tourist to those that document the realities of day- to- day existence while at war. Souvenirs given to the museum include a carved wooden blossom-shaped perfume holder still scented by its original ginger blossom contents, a full length native grass “hula” skirt, several Hawaiian-themed linens and a cloth sugar sack from the nearby Honolulu Plantation Company. Donated objects also include her uniform, watch and wallet, as well a flashlight retaining its original blue cellophane used during the strictly-enforced nighty blackouts on the island. She also returned with the hunting knife her father gave her before leaving, having alternatively hidden it in her girdle or beneath her pillow for her full tenure stating “they’re not taking me alive” in the event of an invasion.


Rhoda Ann Ziesler, December 9, 1941

Rhoda Ann Ziesler, December 9, 1941

Ziesler remained at Schofield Barracks through the rest of the war, her care given to numerous ailing service members likewise documented in other pieces she brought home, including a Japanese teacup recovered from the ruins of Okinawa given to her by a grateful Marine. The nurse also returned with another souvenir of sorts—a friendship with fellow Wisconsinite soldier Raymond Weller—that turned into a romantic relationship after their return home. In 1948 they were married and went on to have four children, one of whom, Dennis Weller, donated this collection.

Ziesler’s experience is a reminder of the important role ordinary people played in extraordinary times. The completeness of her collection—which further consists of her diary, various ephemera, letters, scrapbooks, and even a recording of a radio interview she did while still stationed in Hawaii—gives the Wisconsin Veterans Museum a unique and significant means to continue to share her story for years to come.

Remembering Pearl Harbor – The Story of Herbert “Herb” Buehl

     By Jenna Madsen, Wisconsin Veterans Museum Assistant Curator


Herbert “Herb” Buehl portrait, Image courtesy of Pearl Harbor Survivors  Homestead

Herbert Vincent Buehl, Fireman Third Class, Image courtesy of USSARIZONA.ORG

Herbert “Herb” Buehl from Monroe, Wisconsin was in the Navy aboard the USS Arizona when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Herb served as an electrician in power distribution on the Arizona. His post was at the bottom of the center of the ship where there were no port-holes and only artificial lighting. Herb had December 7th off, so he and a friend were preparing for Sunday church in their quarters on the ship. Neither Herb nor his friend made it to church that morning; the Japanese began the attack as they were getting ready. “A Chief came running down through the compartments and he said, ‘close all the battle ports and man your battle stations—the Japanese are attacking.’”

Herb was in disbelief, but did as he was told and headed to the number three gun. Herb tried getting in contact with the engine room, but nobody was answering when the Japanese torpedoed the ship, knocking the lights out. Then the Japanese dropped the bomb that went through the deck next to the number two gun. It went all the way through to the ammunition compartment at the bottom of the ship, blowing it up in a terrible explosion. Herb was blown from where he was standing on the ladder. “I mean I never even took a step, one second I was standing on the top, the next second I was standing on the bottom.” Herb recalls:

“Now, when this explosion took place it consumed all of the oxygen in the air, so that meant now we weren’t breathing. And when there isn’t any oxygen in the air you don’t breathe, you can’t even make yourself breathe


USS Arizona in flames, Image courtesy of the Navy

USS Arizona in flames, Wisconsin Veterans Museum Image

Herb had to crawl on his hands and knees to get the “dog” (the part holding the hatch shut) on the door open using only the strength he had left in order to get fresh air. Soon after Herb and the other men realized there was water flowing into their compartment, and as soon as they got topside they saw that the whole ship was on fire. Orders were given to abandon ship, and without thinking about how much oil had gone into the water, Herb jumped into the water. He was unable to find the raft because it was so black. He remembered the oil vividly. “When your body is covered in oil, your skin can’t breathe and you get tired.” Herb swam to what was called the Key where the Arizona was tied off, and fortunately for him there were two men who assisted him out of the oily water. Herb recounted to our oral historian later:

“I never saw ‘em, all I saw was destruction. I never saw any planes, I never saw anybody do any of the shooting or anything else.”




Herbert Vincent Buehl, Image courtesy of USSARIZONA.ORG

Following the attack Herb was brought to the officer living quarters on the island to get new clothes, and then was sent to the hangars to make machine gun belts for the planes coming in. That night when Herb went to eat, still unclean from the attack, he finally began to feel run down and was starting to feel the full effects of the day. The men now had nothing, and sleeping was nearly impossible. The next night Herb, feeling sick and unable to eat, went to the sick bay. He tried to get all of the oil off while there and he remembered it took him three tries. He also recalls he had to have a friend help him because he was so exhausted from lack of breath. When Herb recovered, he was reassigned to an ammunition ship for a year and a half. Following the war, Herb only kept in touch with a few people from his service. It is telling as there were only three men in his division out of forty who made it.

In Recognition of Aviation Month – The Story of Robert Balliet

By Jeff Javid, Wisconsin Veterans Museum Archives Assistant

Robert Balliet of Appleton, Wisconsin served with the 776th Squadron, 464th Bomb Group, Fifteenth Air Force, United States Army Air Force in the European theatre during World War II. An employee of Wisconsin Bell Telephone Company, he enlisted in the Army Air Corps in December 1942. Balliet received basic training in Florida, was sent to radio school in Illinois, and finished his training at gunnery school at Tyndall Field (Florida) before teaching radio and being assigned to a squadron in San Antonio (Texas). From a base in southern Italy the Fifteenth, and Balliet’s B-24, would fly missions against munitions plants, aircraft factories, transportation facilities, and oil refineries. They provided bombing support for Allied ground troops in southern Europe. Shot down on May 29, 1944, on his 18th mission, bombing the Wiener Neustadt aircraft factory near Vienna, a wounded Balliet parachuted into Yugoslavia. After a harrowing escape from the damaged plane, Balliet was captured by a Yugoslav who had been a hotel chef in Chicago and had ice fished on Lake Winnebago. Delivered to the Germans he endured solitary confinement, the Stalag, and a forced march conducted to elude the advancing Russians.

In this excerpt from his oral history interview, conducted in 2000, Balliet tells of the last days of the forced march and of liberation from his German captors:

Balliet: I came out of the walk pretty good. I had frostbite and all that kind of stuff. So then we went 680 miles according to northern Germany, we walked. And we got over by Lubeck, Germany, and all of a sudden we were in this little barn—very little, small—the city was just, it wasn’t even a city it was just a little—it wasn’t even a village–and we heard all this commotion. We had a tall guard that was Slim, we called him. Of course we had mean ones, very means ones. They’d sic the dogs after us and bite you and all that stuff because we couldn’t keep up with the march and stuff like that. They just wanted to be mean, that’s all. But Slim was a nice guard, and he could whistle. And so when we were at this barn that one night, the last night, I said, “Slim, ‘Indian Love Call’”. He loved to whistle “Indian Love Call,” and then he’d whistle that, and then finally we heard all this commotion. So I thought, “Well, I can’t open up the—there were just the barn doors. And so I opened up the door, and I could see the tanks going by from—the British tanks were going through, and oh, what a thrill. And so then Slim gave me over there, and he gave me his gun, and he held up [laughs] his hands. He gave up to me, and I had his gun so, but anyway we didn’t know what to do. What the heck are we going to do? Where are we? We don’t know where we are.

Interviewer: You’re loose and with no weapons.

Balliet: Yeah, that’s right.

Interviewer: You didn’t know where the hell you were.

Balliet: Oh, hell no. We had no idea. All we did was march; went here, and here and then through the woods. We never marched through a city; we never marched on a highway. We marched always through these heavy woods. In fact we marched late at night when it was snowing and snowing and snowing so damn bad we had nothing but a–we couldn’t even see the guy ahead of us. But anyway, then Slim gave me his gun, and we went out there, and these tanks threw food out to us: D bars and stuff like that. They had the Germans on the run, and they were really moving. Then we didn’t know where to go so we just packed up and went towards Epinal, France.

During the forced march Balliet lost close to fifty pounds due to malnourishment and the strenuous walking. He suffered side effects from frostbite for the remainder of his life. Balliet eventually made his way to Paris and then to Le Harve where he was put on a Liberty Ship and sent home.

After returning from war, Balliet resumed his career at “Ma Bell,” married in 1947 and was a member of multiple veterans and ex-POW organizations. Balliet passed away on November 13, 2012 at the age of 88.

To read the transcript of the entire interview with Robert Balliet from the Wisconsin Veterans Museum Oral History Collection, click here.

Like Angels in the Sky: A Combat Medic’s Story

Combat medic Charles Schellpeper

Combat medic Charles Schellpeper

As I stepped off the plane into the dark Kuwaiti desert a wave of hot moist air hit me. I was in the Middle East, all of those months of endless training had led me to this. For the next three weeks we sat in Kuwait and tried to “adjust” to our new environment. Going on mile long runs in full combat gear was not uncommon, neither was dehydration and heat exhaustion. We drank bottle after bottle of water and prayed we would be sent to Iraq soon because it was thought to be cooler there. Our barracks were huge 150-200 man tents and we slept on cots right next to one another row after row.

Sometime towards the end of September 2nd Battalion 8th Infantry Regiment finally received orders to pack up and make the move to Iraq. We arrived in Baghdad under the veil of darkness, but the air base was full of activity. It was incredible to see the true might of the U.S. military. As we sat on a helipad waiting for Chinook Helicopters to ferry us 45 minutes south to the city of Diwaniyah, a huge explosion and fireball went off in the distance followed by the sound of small arms fire and sirens. It was very clear to me then that I was in a far different place than I had ever been before.

Forward Operating Base (FOB) Echo didn’t look like much, but it was home to a multinational coalition of troops from Poland, Bosnia & Herzegovina, Mongolia, and the United States. Our Battalion quickly established overall command of the base and assumed responsibility for full spectrum combat operations. My platoon was tasked with protecting the Battalion Commander of 2-8 IN. Over the course of twelve months we conducted over 200 around the clock combat patrols, ensured the conduct of fair and free provincial elections, and trained Iraqi security forces to be a professional organization. Our schedule was demanding and the business we took part in was very serious.

November 1, 2008 was a day that started out similar to most, the platoon woke up, worked out, and received our mission brief. We were told that a couple days prior, a U.S. soldier had accidentally run over an Iraqi Army soldier with a Mine Resistant Ambush Proof Vehicle (MRAP) and killed him. Our platoon was given the task of driving to the Shi’ite holy city of Najaf in order to deliver the condolence payment to the Iraqi soldiers family. We loaded up into our MRAPs and M1114 Up Armored Humvees and departed on the three hour drive. One hour had gone by and thus far the drive had been hot and uncomfortable. I looked out the side window and thought about my best friend who was getting married that same day. I had been away from home for three months and war had lost much of its glamour to me. Then it happened.

A large explosion deafened my ears while dark black smoke and orange fire consumed the lead Humvee. The radio chatter immediately went from laughter and conversation to barking orders and .50 caliber Machine Gunners asking for target confirmations. My mind was swirling with questions and I was sick to my stomach. I was the only Medic in the convoy and I knew it was up to me to get those men out of the damaged Humvee as soon as possible. I heard my Platoon Sergeant telling me to jump out the moment our truck stopped. As the driver slammed on the brakes I swung the heavy armored door open and ran out into the road at a dead sprint toward the downed truck. I felt so naked and exposed. I thought about the small arms fire going on around me and the chance of there being a second Improvised Explosive Device (IED) set up in order to massacre the Soldiers who would surely rush to save their comrades’ lives.

After the IED: Humvee after being struck by an explosively formed penetrator (EFP).

After the IED: Humvee after being struck by an explosively formed penetrator (EFP).

As I reached the truck smoke filled my lungs and I could feel the heat on my face from the fire. Without hesitating, I opened the door. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight I was about to see. Five of the closest friends I’d ever had were sprawled about inside the truck covered in blood and moaning, but miraculously everyone appeared to be alive. I immediately began applying Combat Application Tourniquets to the shattered limbs of the wounded men as other soldiers arrived and with mechanical like efficiency began to do the same. We knew through training that to stay in the “kill zone,” the immediate area in which the IED goes off, is not the place to be so the decision was made to move the wounded to be loaded in the large MRAP vehicles. Myself and two other soldiers who I felt were medically competent went with the three most severely wounded members of the platoon. Executing his training to a T, my Platoon Sergeant had already called up a Medical Evacuation Helicopter which had responded saying it would meet us at a designated casualty collection point in twenty minutes.

Sitting in the back of that MRAP for the next twenty minutes felt like an eternity. Dressing wounds, initiating IVs, checking vital signs, and trying to calm the conscious patients were all things that happened on our way to the evacuation site. Finally, the MRAP lurched to a halt and in the distance you could hear the chopping rotary wings of the helicopters heading in our direction. They were like angels in the sky. I had never felt so relieved in my life. We waited for the two UH-60 Black Hawks to land, then immediately loaded the five wounded patients on to the birds. As the helicopters took off an enormous wave of relief and exhaustion swept over me. I started to shake. My eyes became moist. I thanked God for seeing me through the day and allowing me to keep my men alive.

Talking Spirits Cemetery Tour XVII Recap

The Wisconsin Veterans Museum would like to share the thank you cards from Ms. Alt’s 5th Grade class at Huegel Elementary (Madison) for the Talking Spirits Cemetery Tour XVII at Forest Hill Cemetery. We look forward to seeing more classes this October 4th-7th for Talking Spirits Cemetery Tour XVIII!

Thank you to all who attended, volunteered and participated!

On Sunday, October 11, 2015 the Wisconsin Veterans Museum hosted the Seventeenth Annual Talking Spirits Cemtery Tour at Forest Hill Cemetery (1 Speedway Road, Madison) from 12-4:00 PM. Cemetery Tour 2015 featured the stories of Sally Blair Fairchild and Francis Bull Fairchild, August Bartsch, Albert Lamson, and Alice Whiting Waterman. This year’s tour was the most successful yet. Roughly, 2,500 students from grades four through ten attended the event over a four day span, and 500 visitors attended our public day tours. The weather was beautiful and once again the Wisconsin Veterans Museum was able to share the stories of our Wisconsin Civil War heroes. The tour was made possible by support from the Wisconsin Humanities Council and the Wisconsin Veterans Museum Foundation.

Sally Blair Fairchild & Francis Bull Fairchild

Sally Blair Fairchild & Francis Bull Fairchild



Sally Blair Fairchild, the wife of Jarius Fairchild, the first Mayor of Madison, was the mother of Civil War soldiers Cassius and Lucius and sailor Charles Fairchild. Cassius Fairchild joined the 16th Wisconsin immediately after war broke out and quickly became Lieutenant Colonel. Lucius Fairchild, Wisconsin’s first three-term Governor, saw action at Falling Waters, Second Bull Run, Gettysburg, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville among others. Francis Bull married Lucius Fairchild in 1864 after spending the war years volunteering in military hospitals around Washington D.C.






August Bartsch

August Bartsch



One of the first Madisonians to enlist when the Civil War broke out, Bartsch fought with the 26th Wisconsin at Gettysburg, Missionary Ridge, Kennesaw Mountain, Atlanta and Chancellorsville. Bartsch was just one of thousands of German immigrants who enlisted to fight during the war alongside other European immigrants.





Albert Lamson

Lamson was a soldier in the 104th New York Infantry when she was captured after the battle of Gettysburg and held prisoner at Libby Prison. After being transferred to camp Sorghum near Columbia, Lamson and a fellow soldier, E.E. Sill, made a daring escape in broad daylight and fled to the nearby woods. Lamson lived on turnips and bark as he traveled toward Union lines. After the war, Lamson and his wife lived on a farm south of present-day Nakoma and were pioneer strawberry growers.





Alice Whiting Waterman

Alice Whiting Waterman



A native of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Waterman moved to Madison in 1868, She took a very loving interest in the Confederate soldiers buried at Forest Hill Cemetery, beautifying this spot by planting shade trees and replacing wooden grave markers with stone. The soldiers buried at Confederate Rest were captured at the Battle of Island No. 10 on the Mississippi River and were brought to Madison to be held at Camp Randall. Waterman is buried in Confederate Rest among ‘her boys’, as she fondly call them.





We look forward to seeing the public on Saturday, October 8th from 5:30 to 7:30 for our first ever CANDLELIT TOURS, and on Sunday, October 9th from 12:00 PM to 4:00 PM for our Public Day tours!

Click on the images below to read some of the letters we received!


The Army Olympian: Carleton L. Brosius

By Russ Horton, Reference Archivist

Carleton L. Brosius (WVM Mss 17)

Carleton L. Brosius (WVM Mss 17)

Wisconsin has a long and proud Olympic tradition—one that is often associated with the Winter Games. Athletes from the Badger State like Bonnie Blair, Eric Heiden, Dan Jansen, Mark Johnson, and others gained fame in speed skating and ice hockey. But ninety-six years ago, four years before the first Winter Olympics, a Wisconsin native participated in the Games of the VII Olympiad in Antwerp, Belgium while serving as an active duty officer in the United States Army.

Carleton L. Brosius, a Milwaukee native, earned a sterling reputation as a physical trainer in the Army in the early twentieth century. His father, George, was a Civil War veteran and a celebrated gymnast who had taught thousands at the Turner Hall in Milwaukee, and the son followed in his footsteps both as a veteran and athlete. Carleton joined the Wisconsin National Guard in 1896. He served in the Spanish-American War and along the Mexican Border before accepting a commission in the Regular Army in 1917. He remained stateside during World War I, traveling between encampments to set up training regimens for soldiers. In 1918, Captain Brosius oversaw the physical training of nearly 40,000 men in nineteen Army training camps.

Carleton L. Brosius (WVM Mss 17)

Carleton L. Brosius (WVM Mss 17)

In 1920, on the heels of World War I, Europe began the process of recovering from four years of destructive fighting. The Olympic Games, originally granted to Budapest, Hungary, were moved to Antwerp, Belgium largely to reward the people of Belgium for their suffering during the war. Opening on April 20, 1920, the games ran until September 12 of the same year – nearly 5 months! The Games of the VII Olympiad were record setting in several ways. It was the first Olympics to fly the five-ringed Olympic Flag, the first where competitors took the Olympic Oath, and the first to release doves as a sign of peace.

The United States decided to use military personnel for some of its Olympic team, and Brosius was selected as captain of the tug of war team and an alternate on the fencing team. In July 1920, he accompanied hundreds of other soldiers and sailors to Europe aboard the USS Princess Matoika. Stopping in Germany to visit friends among the American occupation troops, Brosius reached Antwerp and participated in the tug of war competition on August 17 and 18—the American team did not place. An alternate in fencing, he was not called upon to compete.

Tug-o-War Carleton L. Brosius  (WVM Mss 17)

Tug-o-War Carleton L. Brosius (WVM Mss 17)

Following the Olympics, Brosius served as the physical trainer at St. John’s Military Academy in Delafield before taking over the operation of Brosius Gymnasium in Milwaukee from his father. In 1936, Brosius became the adjutant at the Wisconsin Veterans Home in King, where he lived after retiring following World War II. WVM holds his military papers and Olympic scrapbooks, which document the story of a man who used his love of physical fitness to serve his country in many different ways. Watch the WVM website and facebook page this summer for more from Carl Brosius’s Olympic experience.





Tug-o-War Carleton L. Brosius  (WVM Mss 17)

Tug-o-War Carleton L. Brosius (WVM Mss 17)

Mexican Expedition

By Russ Horton, Reference Archivist.


Image courtesy Library of Congress.

One hundred years ago today, President Woodrow Wilson ordered the mobilization of the Wisconsin National Guard for military service. However, he did not send them to Europe, where a World War raged. Instead, he sent them to Texas to protect our border. While their service during this time did not involve pitched battles or high casualties, these men answered the call to duty and did what was asked of them. What’s more, many would go on to fight in the trenches of World War I. For these reasons, we remember their service on its 100th anniversary.


When the United States officially recognized Venustiano Carranza as the president of Mexico in 1915, it angered Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa[1], who began striking out against Americans in a series of escalating events. On March 9, 1916, Villa and his men attacked Columbus, New Mexico and the nearby Army post Camp Furlong, killing several American civilians and soldiers. The next day, President Wilson released a statement that US military forces would pursue and capture Villa.


On March 15, General John J. Pershing received orders to lead federal troops into Mexico without the permission of the Mexican government. As they proceeded further into the country, political tensions rose and Carranza threatened military action of his own. War with Mexico seemed close and raids into the United States grew in number. In May, Wilson mobilized the Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas National Guards to augment the federal troops, and one month later called the remaining states’ National Guards into federal service.


Roughly 4,000 Wisconsin National Guard troops reported to Camp Douglas on June 22. Between June 27 and June 30, six units were mustered into federal service: Troop A of the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry; Battery A of the 1st Wisconsin Field Artillery, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Wisconsin Infantry Regiments, and Field Hospital #1. Troop B of the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry mustered into service about a month later, on July 24.


The first Wisconsin units, Troop A and Battery A, left their home soil on July 1 and arrived at Camp Wilson, Texas four days later. Located just outside of San Antonio, near the grounds of Fort Sam Houston, Camp Wilson[2] was named after the sitting President and would be home to all of the Wisconsin units during their service. The remaining Wisconsin units arrived shortly thereafter and the men began a strenuous regimen of training and drilling in the heat of a Texas summer.


The Wisconsin troops left Camp Wilson on August 7, carrying out a two day hike to Leon Springs for target practice with live ammunition. On August 18, the night before they began their march back to Camp Wilson, a Category 4 hurricane, that had hit Corpus Christi before heading inland, struck their camp while the men slept. Almost every tent in the camp was blown down but no serious injuries were sustained. The units commenced their march in the pouring rain and arrived at Camp Wilson exhausted and completely drenched.


The following month, while on an 80 mile march to Austin, the Wisconsin troops took part in a simulated battle. On September 18, the roughly 4,000 Wisconsin National Guardsmen defended the city of New Braunfels against 10,000 Guardsmen from other states and held off the superior force for the better part of a day. Soldiers on both sides fired over 80,000 rounds of blank ammunition during the exercise. The mock battle and long march gave the men valuable experience in organization, fighting, and supplying men in the field.


Soon after, the United States began reducing its military presence on the border. Troop A and Battery A returned to Camp Douglas to be mustered out of federal service in October. Troop B remained behind, and while patrolling on October 27, caught 50 National Guardsmen trespassing in some private pecan groves near Salado Creek. The men were arrested and either fined or sentenced to labor for trespassing and for disobeying a direct order to stay off of private property.


November 1916 brought a presidential election in which Woodrow Wilson sought re-election against Supreme Court Justice Charles Evans Hughes. In a very close election, 2,600 Wisconsin soldiers cast ballots from the field, the largest turnout among the various states’ National Guards.


Following the election, the men stationed in the San Antonio area turned their attention to another American tradition—football. Sixteen teams created from federal units and National Guard units from Wisconsin, West Virginia, Texas, Mississippi, Illinois, Virginia and more played games in November and December as part of a massive tournament. While all of the Wisconsin teams did well, the 1st Wisconsin Infantry team made it all the way to the championship game. On Christmas Day, they defeated the 3rd Illinois Infantry 9-0 to claim the 12th Division trophy.


Two days later, the men of the 1st Wisconsin boarded a train to begin their trip home. Unlike Troop A and Battery A, who mustered out at Camp Douglas, the remaining Wisconsin troops stopped first at Fort Sheridan, Illinois to be mustered out of federal service before returning to their home state. The 3rd Wisconsin Infantry had completed their service in December; the 1st Wisconsin Infantry and Field Hospital #1 were mustered out in January 1916; the 2nd Wisconsin Infantry in February; and Troop B of the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry were the last of the Wisconsin soldiers to leave active duty, mustering out of service at Fort Sheridan on March 6, 1916.


While the Wisconsin troops did not have much of an opportunity to utilize their training during the Mexican Expedition, their service was far from in vain. Mere months after they returned to Wisconsin, the United States declared war on Germany, and many of those Wisconsin National Guardsmen were called into service as part of the newly formed 32nd Division. On the battlefields of France, the training and drills performed at hot, dusty Camp Wilson, Texas paid huge dividends as the 32nd Division proved itself to be one of the finest in the entire American Expeditionary Forces.


Camp Wilson_June Blog_2016

Image courtesy Library of Congress.


Military Spouses Day: Majil Steiner

By Andrea Hoffman, Collections Manager

Majil Steiner wearing the parachute gown.

Majil Steiner wearing the parachute gown.

On November 21, 1944, the B-29 “Snafuperbomber” with the 40th Bomb Group was attacked over Japan while approaching its target city of Omura. While badly damaged, the crewmembers managed to keep the B-29 airborne back across the China Sea. But when the aircraft’s usable fuel supply began to run low, the crew was forced to bail out over Japanese-occupied territory in eastern China, the order to jump coming from the aircraft commander as they approached a valley filled with rice paddies. 1st Lt. Floyd “Dick” Steiner, the aircraft’s navigator, was quickly rescued by local farmers and smuggled back to safety. Steiner kept his parachute and ripcord throughout the ordeal, and upon returning to his base in Chakulia, India a few days later, mailed it home to his wife, Majil, back in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Along with the parachute came his request that she reuse the material to make a new dress for herself.

As Majil later recounted, “When the box arrived I opened it, and with amazement pulled out the roomful of nylon parachute.” As an only recently-developed synthetic reserved for military usage during the war, nylon was still a novelty in the mid-1940s. The silk-like panels were carefully taken apart by her and her friends so that the cloth could be reused for her gown design. Unfortunately, the dress would also require a sturdy lining fabric, something essentially unavailable given wartime limitations. Majil was not deterred, however, and sought help finding it from a fabric company in St. Paul, Minnesota. The company wound up taking an interest in her husband’s story and the dress project and soon mailed her several yards of the required lining material.


V2015.09.1 Majil Steiner’s parachute gown.

V2015.09.1 Majil Steiner’s parachute gown.

With the further assistance of an experienced dressmaker, as well as a rug maker who taught Majil how to braid the shoulder straps out of the parachute’s cords, her evening dress was completed in 1945. She had a portrait taken of her in the dress, and mailed it off to her husband in India. He carried the photograph of her wearing the life-saving parachute material on him for the rest of his tour. The couple, now married 71 years, has since moved out west, but recently returned the dress to its home state of Wisconsin by donating it to our museum’s permanent collection.

The Wisconsin Veterans Museum is an educational activity of the Wisconsin Department of Veterans Affairs.

Wisconsin Department of Veterans Affairs