Union Colonel Thomas Reynolds lay in a
hospital bed after the July 1864 Battle of Peachtree Creek,
Georgia. Gathered around him, surgeons discussed the possibility
of amputating his wounded leg. The Irish-born Reynolds, hoping
to sway the debate toward a conservative decision, pointed out
that his wasn't any old leg, but an "imported leg." Whether or
not this indisputable claim influenced the doctors, Reynolds did
get to keep his body intact.
Compared to the many men who died because limbs should have been
removed but weren't, Reynolds was lucky: he survived. "I have no
hesitation in saying that far more lives were lost in refusal to
amputate than by amputation," wrote William Williams Keen, a
medical student with the military status of a West Point cadet.
Like many Civil War medical workers, Keen learned his trade on
the job, under extreme duress, as Civil War battles churned out
thousands of wounded men.
After treating casualties of the
September 1862 Battle of Antietam, Maryland, Keen went to work
in Philadelphia at the Turner's Lane Hospital, a facility famous
for making discoveries about nerve injuries. Later he became
professor of surgery at the city's Jefferson Medical College and
a leader in American surgery. In his Reminiscences
(1905), he commented on the persistent practice of blaming Civil
War surgeons for performing unnecessary amputations. Many other
Civil War surgeons made the same point: amputations saved lives
and failure to perform necessary ones sometimes resulted in
fatal infections.
The image that surgery during the Civil
War consisted of amputations, amputations, and more amputations,
many done unnecessarily, developed early in the war. Soldiers'
letters and hometown newspapers were filled with such
accusations, and the notion stuck. True, more than 30,000
amputations were done on Union soldiers, and probably a similar
number on Confederates, but most were necessary. British and
American civilian surgeons who visited battlefield hospitals as
observers and committed their opinions to paper agreed with Keen
that Civil War surgeons were often too hesitant about
amputating. Those experts felt that too few amputations were
done, and that the accusations that surgeons were too quick too
amputate led them to second-guess themselves, often incorrectly.
Surgery Before the Civil War
The introduction of anesthesia in October 1846 allowed surgeons
to operate more deliberately. But because infection almost
always followed, very little surgery was done. Then came the
Civil War and the need for an astounding number of operations to
be performed by doctors without any prior surgical experience.
Statistics for the Massachusetts
General Hospital, one of the premier hospitals of the era,
illustrate the state of surgery in the first half of the 19th
century. Between 1836 and 1846, a total of 39 surgical
procedures were performed at that hospital annually. In the
first 10 years after the introduction of anaesthesia, 1847
through 1857, the annual average was 189 procedures, about 60
percent of which were amputations. Opening the abdomen or chest
was rare. About two decades after the Civil War, the volume of
surgery in civilian hospitals increased enormously with the
introduction of antiseptic and, later, aseptic techniques.
Between 1894 and 1904, for example, an average of 2,427
procedures were done annually at the Massachusetts General
Hospital and, by 1914, more than 4,000.
Many Civil War surgeons lived to see
these developments and, reminiscing long after the war, lamented
their own lack of preparation for the difficulties of treating
large numbers of severely wounded men. "Many of our surgeons had
never seen the inside of the abdomen in a living subject...,"
one physician wrote, adding, "Many of the surgeons of the Civil
War had never witnessed a major amputation when they joined
their regiments; very few of them had treated gunshot wounds."
Despite the lack of preparation, Union
surgeons treated more than 400,000 wounded men--about 245,000 of
them for gunshot or artillery wounds--and performed at least
40,000 operations. Less complete Confederate records show that
fewer surgeons treated a similar number of patients. As would be
expected, the numbers of surgeons grew exponentially as the war
raged on. When the war began, there were 113 surgeons in the
U.S. Army, of which 24 joined the Confederate army and 3 were
dismissed for disloyalty. By war's end, more than 12,000
surgeons had served in the Union army and about 3,200 in the
Confederate. During the course of the war, formal and informal
surgical training programs were begun for newly enlisted
surgeons, and special courses on treating gunshot wounds were
given. Surgeons on both sides rapidly developed skills and
knowledge that improved the treatment of wounds, and they
devised many new surgical procedures in desperate attempts to
save lives.
Did Army Surgeons Deserve So Much
Criticism?
At the start of the war, and especially during both Battles of
Manassas and the Peninsula Campaign in 1861 and 1862, care of
the wounded was chaotic and criticism of surgeons was valid.
Regular Army personnel in all departments expected a short war
fought by professionals and tried to follow rules created for
the 15,000-man prewar army scattered here and there at small
frontier posts. But the Civil War involved large volunteer
forces fighting huge battles and sustaining enormous numbers of
casualties. The prewar system was overwhelmed. Hospitals were
organized at the regimental level, and transportation of the
wounded was improvised. Wounded men sometimes went days without
any care. Surgeons operated in isolation, without help or
supervision.
While newspaper articles and soldiers'
letters described the poor state of affairs to anyone who could
read, a new medical director of the Army of the Potomac, Dr.
Jonathan Letterman, worked to improve medical care. He was
remarkably successful, but the improvements went largely
unreported. So public criticism continued to inhibit surgeons,
keeping them from making the best decisions. And, as Keen
observed, this may have cost lives.
One of many observers who agreed with
Keen was William M. Caniff, professor of surgery at the
University of Victoria College in Toronto. Visiting with the
Union army after the Battle of Fredericksburg in the winter of
1862-1863, he wrote that American surgeons were too hesitant
about performing amputations. In a long essay published in the
British medical journal Lancet on February 28, 1863,
Caniff observed, "Although a strong advocate of conservative
surgery..., I became convinced that upon the field amputation
was less frequently resorted to than it should be; that while in
a few cases the operation was unnecessarily performed, in many
cases it was omitted when it afforded the only chance of
recovery."
While the criticism continued, medical
conditions continued to improve. Evacuation and transportation
of the wounded got better, as did the establishment and
management of hospitals. And the percentage of the wounded that
died after treatment dropped dramatically. After Antietam, for
example, 22 percent of the 8,112 wounded treated in hospitals
died; but after the Battle of Gettysburg one year later, only 9
percent of 10,569 died. Despite that, an editorial writer in the
Cincinnati Lancet and Observer noted in September 1863
that "Our readers will not fail to have noticed that everybody
connected with the army has been thanked, excepting the
surgeons...."
Myth 1: Alternatives to Amputation
Were Ignored
Infection threatened the life of every wounded Civil War
soldier, and the resulting pus produced the stench that
characterized hospitals of the era. When the drainage was thick
and creamy (probably due to staphylococci), the pus was called
"laudable," because it was associated with a localized infection
unlikely to spread far. Thin and bloody pus (probably due to
streptococci), on the other hand, was called "malignant,"
because it was likely to spread and fatally poison the blood.
Civil War medical data reveal that severe infections now
recognized as streptococcal were common. One of the most
devastating streptococcal infections during the war was known as
"hospital gangrene."
When a broken bone was exposed outside
the skin, as it was when a projectile caused the wound, the
break was termed a "compound fracture." If the bone was broken
into multiple pieces, it was termed a "comminuted fracture";
bullets and artillery shells almost always caused bone to
fragment. Compound, comminuted fractures almost always resulted
in infection of the bone and its marrow (osteomyelitis). The
infection might spread to the blood stream and cause death, but
even if it did not, it usually caused persistent severe pain,
with fever, foul drainage, and muscle deterioration. Amputation
might save the soldier's life, and a healed stump with a
prosthetic limb was better than a painful, virtually useless
limb, that chronically drained pus.
Antisepsis and asepsis were adopted in
the decades following the war, and when penicillin became
available late in World War II, the outlook for patients with
osteomyelitis improved. In the mid-1800s, however, germs were
still unknown. Civil War surgeons had to work without knowledge
of the nature of infection and without drugs to treat it. To
criticize them for this lack of knowledge is equivalent to
criticizing Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee for not calling
in air strikes.
Civil War surgeons constantly
reevaluated their amputation policies and procedures. Both sides
formed army medical societies, and the meetings focused
primarily on amputation. The main surgical alternative to
amputation involved removing the portion of the limb containing
the shattered bone in the hope that new bone would bridge the
defect. The procedure, called excision or resection, avoided
amputation, but the end result was shortening of the extremity
and often a gap or shortening of the bony support of the arm or
leg. An arm might still have some function, but often soldiers
could stand or walk better on an artificial leg than on one with
part of a bone removed. Another problem with excision was that
it was a longer operation than amputation, which increased the
anaesthesia risk; the mortality rate after excision was usually
higher than that following amputation at a similar site. As the
war progressed, excisions were done less and less frequently.
Myth 2: Surgery Was Done without
Anaesthesia
Histories of the Civil War and Hollywood movies usually portray
surgery being done without anaesthesia; the patient downs a shot
of whiskey, then bites down on a bullet. That did happen in a
few instances, particularly on September 17, 1862, at the Battle
of Iuka, Mississippi, when 254 casualties were operated on
without any anesthetic. This episode is recorded in the
Medical and Surgical History of the War of the Rebellion and
is the only known occurrence of any significant number of
operations being performed without anaesthesia. On the other
hand, more than 80,000 Federal operations with anaesthesia were
recorded, and that figure is believed to be an underestimate.
Confederate surgeons used anesthetics a comparable number of
times. The use of anaesthesia by surgeons doing painful wound
treatments in hospitals was well described but not tallied.
One explanation for the misconception
about anaesthesia is that it was well into the 20th century
before research led to more carefully designed applications. At
the time of the Civil War, ether or chloroform or a mixture of
the two was administered by an assistant, who placed a loose
cloth over the patient's face and dripped some anesthetic onto
it while the patient breathed deeply. When given this way, the
initial effects are a loss of consciousness accompanied by a
stage of excitement. For safety reasons, the application was
usually stopped quickly, which is why surprisingly few deaths
occurred. The Civil War surgeon went to work immediately, hoping
to finish before the drug wore off. Although the excited patient
was unaware of what was happening and felt no pain, he would be
agitated, moaning or crying out, and thrashing about during the
operation. He had to be held still by assistants so the surgeon
could continue.
Surgery was performed in open air
whenever possible, to take advantage of daylight, which was
brighter than candles or kerosene lamps available in the field.
So, while surgeons performed operations, healthy soldiers and
other passers-by often had a view of the proceedings (as some
newspaper illustrations of the time verify). These witnesses saw
the clamor and heard the moaning and thought the patients were
conscious, feeling the pain. These observations found their way
into letters and other writings, and the false impression arose
that Civil War surgeons did not typically use anaesthesia. That
myth has persevered, but the evidence says otherwise.
Myth 3: Most of the Wounds Were to
Arms and Legs
Another misconception common in Civil War history is the concept
that most wounds were to the arms and legs. At the root of this
myth are statistics that state that about 36 percent of wounds
were to the arms and another 35 percent to the legs. These
numbers are based on the distribution of the wounds of soldiers
evacuated and treated in hospitals, as shown in the records in
the Medical and Surgical History of the War of the Rebellion.
The trouble is, many soldiers with more serious wounds did not
make it to hospitals and were therefore not counted. Wounds of
the chest, abdomen, and head, for example, were often fatal on
the battlefield. Soldiers with these more serious wounds were
often given morphine and water and made as comfortable as
possible as they awaited death, while men with treatable wounds,
such as injured limbs, were given evacuation priority.
A similar statistics-based misjudgment
arises in connection with artillery wounds. These were often
devastating, fatal immediately or soon after; few soldiers hit
by artillery missiles lived to be evacuated. For this reason,
the recorded number of artillery wounds treated is low. That
fact has led some authors to conclude erroneously that artillery
was largely ineffective.
Myth 4: Every Surgeon Had Authority
to Amputate
During the first year of the war, and especially during the
Peninsula Campaign in 1862, army surgeons performed all
operations. Soon the overwhelming numbers of battle wounded
forced the army to contract civilian surgeons to perform
operations in the field alongside their army counterparts. Their
ability ranged from poor to excellent.
Accusations soon arose that surgeons
were doing unnecessary amputations just to gain experience. This
was undoubtedly true in some cases, but it was rare. After the
Battle of Antietam in September 1862, Letterman was so disturbed
by public criticism of the army surgeons that he reported:
The surgery of these battle-fields has
been pronounced butchery. Gross misrepresentations of the
conduct of medical officers have been made and scattered
broadcast over the country, causing deep and heart-rending
anxiety to those who had friends or relatives in the army,
who might at any moment require the services of a surgeon.
It is not to be supposed that there were no incompetent
surgeons in the army. It is certainly true that there were;
but these sweeping denunciations against a class of men who
will favorably compare with the military surgeons of any
country, because of the incompetency and short-comings of a
few, are wrong, and do injustice to a body of men who have
labored faithfully and well.
Motivated at least in part by a desire
to improve the public perception of the medical department,
Letterman issued an order on October 30, 1862, requiring that
"in all doubtful cases" involving Union soldiers, a board of
three of the most experienced surgeons in the division or corps
hospital would decide by majority vote whether an amputation was
necessary. Then, a fourth surgeon, the available doctor with the
most relevant skills, would perform the procedure. This system
remained in effect for the rest of the war.
After the war, Surgeon George T.
Stevens, historian of the the Army of the Potomac's VI Corps,
described how the operating surgeon was chosen:
One or more surgeons of
well known skill and experience were detailed from the
medical force of the division, who were known as "operating
surgeons"; to each of whom was assigned three assistants,
also known to be skillful men.... The wounded men had the
benefit of the very best talent and experience in the
division, in the decision of the question whether he should
be submitted to the use of the knife, and in the performance
of the operation in case one was required. It was a mistaken
impression among those at home, that each medical officer
was the operating surgeon for his own men.
Only about one in fifteen
of the medical officers was entrusted with operations.
The Confederate army had a similar
problem with excessively zealous surgeons, and it instituted a
similar solution. In the 1863 edition of his Manual of
Military Surgery, Professor J.J. Chisolm of Charleston,
South Carolina, bluntly addressed the issue of unnecessary
surgery:
Among a certain class of surgeons
...amputations have often been performed when limbs could
have been saved, and the amputating knife has often been
brandished, by inexperienced surgeons, over simple flesh
wounds. In the beginning of the war the desire for operating
was so great among the large number of medical officers
recently from the schools, who were for the first time in a
position to indulge this extravagant propensity, that the
limbs of soldiers were in as much danger from the ardor of
young surgeons as from the missiles of the enemy....
It was for this reason that, in the
distribution of labor in the field infirmaries, it was
recommended that the surgeon who had the greatest
experience, and upon whose judgment the greatest reliance
could be placed, should officiate as examiner, and his
decision be carried out by those who may possess a greater
facility or desire for the operative manual.
The new procedures helped the patients,
but they hardly changed public opinion. In the end, despite
advances in surgical practices and their results, Civil War
physicians were unsuccessful in improving their public
perception.
How Did American Surgeons Compare to
Europeans?
The efforts of Civil War surgeons should be compared with those
of their contemporaries: doctors who treated the casualties of
the Crimean War of 1854-1856 and the Franco-German War of
1870-1871. Fatality rates during the Civil War, especially those
following amputations, compare favorably with those of the
British and especially the French in the Crimean War and were
much better than those of the Russians and Turks (although
statistics for those armies were less thorough).
The data for the British in the Crimean
War are the most comprehensive available, thanks in large part
to the interest taken in statistics by the renowned nurse
Florence Nightingale. The British performed a total of 1,027
amputations, with a fatality rate of 28 percent. Overall, Union
surgeons had a fatality rate of 26 percent, performing more than
30,000 amputations. Fatality rates varied with the location of
the amputation; the closer to the trunk, the higher the
percentage. One place the Union surgeons stood out most over
their British counterparts was in amputations at the hip. In
every recorded attempt by British surgeons, the patient died.
Union doctors, on the other hand, succeeded 17 percent of the
time.
The medical data for the Union forces
in the Civil War are the most complete of any war involving
America. Careful consideration of these records and the state of
medicine here and in Europe at the time reveals commendable
efforts and results. Overall, American surgeons during the Civil
War did a respectable and generally successful job of trying to
save lives. They deserve a better reputation than the lowly one
they have received.
This article written by Dr. Bollet ,who
is the author of the recent book Civil War Medicine,
Challenges and Triumphs, published by Galen Press. This
article originally appeared in the October 2004 issue of
Civil War Times magazine. For more great articles, be sure
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