From History’s Shadows: Sarah Rosetta Wakeman

The glowing pastel colors of an early spring sunrise paint the sky above Alexandria, Virginia. That moment as light comes but shadow still holds reign over the modern roads, the traffic, and the historic structures of the town along the banks of the Potomac River. From my seat on the speeding Metro, I watch the scene, holding a book of published letters whose Civil War story is as much light and shadow as Alexandria at dawn. Tying it altogether? The letter on the open page is dated March 29, 1863…one hundred and sixty-one years ago as I’m writing this.

R.L. Wakeman signed this letter and it might seem unremarkable without context. But Private Wakeman was a woman: Sarah Rosetta Wakeman. 

“Dear Father…

“We expect to get four months pay this week and if I do I shall have 60 dollars in money. I am getting 13 dollars per month. I will send part of it home home to you….

“You mustn’t trouble you Self about me. I am contented. I want you to get along the best way you can until this war is over. I believe that God will spare my life to come home once more. Then I will help you to pay you debts. I will send you more or less money while I am a soldier. When I get out of the service I will make money enough to pay all the debts that you owe….

“I will have my likeness taken again and send it to you all.

“Our regiment don’t expect to stay here long. I don’t know where we shall go. Some think that we shall go into a Fort into heavy artillery. For my part I don’t care where we go to. I don’t fear the rebel bullets nor I don’t fear the cannon. . . . I have to go on guard every other day and drill the day I am not on guard. I like to drill first rate. . . .

“How would you like to be in the front rank and have the rear rank load and fire their guns over your shoulder? I have been there my Self.”

Twenty-years-old in 1863, Sarah Wakeman had left home in August 1862 and, dressed in male attire, sought work. The details surrounding her decision are hazy; concern over her family’s debts factored into her choice, but there seems to have been some type of family altercation too, since several of her early letters express regret and a hope for reconciliation with her parents. Something also had made Wakeman determined not to return permanently to her family’s neighborhood, and she hinted at not feeling safe or accepted there. Wakeman realized she could make more money as a soldier than a laborer and enlisted in the 153rd New York Infantry Regiment.

During her almost two years in the ranks, her female identity was either not discovered or at least not reported. On one recorded occasion Wakeman defended herself in a fight with another soldier, and she self-reportedly fit in as one of the guys and lived “wildly” until rediscovering religious devotion. Wakeman’s letters are less about patriotism and more about opportunity to earn equal pay for equal danger and the independence she enjoyed in her uniform. Her plans for the future included owning a farm on the western prairies and continuing to look after herself and make money as a man. 

In her letters, Wakeman signed her name in a variety of ways, sometimes her given name, sometimes with initials, and sometimes with a male first name—as though varying her persona as time and events past. Sarah Wakeman did not survive the war. Fighting in the Red River Campaign in 1864, she became ill and died in a New Orleans hospital on June 19, 1864. When she was buried in Chalmette National Cemetery, her grave was marked with a headstone that read “Lyon Wakeman.” The Civil War armies did not look for women in their ranks, and Wakeman had concealed her female identity so well that her story was officially covered with a male name.

However, Sarah Wakeman had written her own account—at least fragments of it—in letters to her family. Her parents, siblings, a few extended family members and friends clearly knew she was soldiering. Her family preserved her letters, and descendants brought those papers and Wakeman’s story to light toward the end of the 20th century. The letters are simple, misspelled, but overwhelmingly valuable for seeing how a young woman navigated her financial goals, her proclaimed lack of fear, and her military service by assuming a male name and identity. Still, details and questions about her motives, service, and experiences sit in that half-place of shadow and light.

How do we talk about the stories caught between known and unknown? It’s something I’ve been thinking about in different contexts for a while. As March and Women’s History Month comes to an end this year, I keep thinking about the challenge of interpreting and placing women’s stories. Certainly not everything must revolve around a woman’s story or experience; there are many times that would be poor interpretation. But I think about school-age girls on field trips to battlefields, historic sites, or museums. Do they experience or hear stories that reflect women’s roles in history? Are those stories presented as having meaning or are they relegated to an out of the place way or merely a human interest story?

I remember the bookshelves at the library when I was a kid. There was a book or two about Sarah Emma Edmonds (another Union soldier), and a couple of books about “the homefront.” I didn’t know what to think about Edmonds’s story and probably filed it in my mind as a “cool, weird story.” While the majority of women during the Civil War did not volunteer as soldiers, researchers have identified several hundred who did. At every place and every level, women were involved in the Civil War—political influence without voting power, supporting the war effort, volunteering for medical roles, factoring their thoughts and voices into the morale shifts, connected to battlefields by hopes and losses, sometimes spying, sometimes interacting with soldiers as campaign or battle came through their communities, and sometimes taking male names to fight in the ranks. Most women interacted and influenced the war from their home or doorstep, but some women put their footprints in the dust of history as they left home in dramatic roles or stepped out to push the traditional boundaries a little more. How do we reflect this in the books on the shelves in the children’s section of the library? How do we show that women and girls were present and part of major moments of history?

On the train, I slipped the printed volume of Wakeman’s letters back into my bag. Two books briefly connect—primary sources and interpretation meeting for a moment. I pulled out a picture book. Guts for Glory: The Story of Civil War Soldier Rosetta Wakeman. Newly-published and written for ages 7-12, this book contains original artwork and text by Joanna Lapati, who has been researching and experiencing through living history the challenges of female soldiers during the Civil War. A woman in uniform salutes on the front cover of the book. On the back cover is an illustration representing Sarah Wakeman’s family. She went to war for her family and her country, and that theme is pulled from the primary sources and woven into story and image in this new book. Though story form, the book is not sensationalized. Wakeman doesn’t save the nation single handedly, but in the pages of story and art, she loves her family, decides to enlist, and does her duty as a soldier courageously.

As an adult, this is a book I want to buy and gift to the kids in my life, and it would appeal to girls and boys. I try to imagine what my ten-year-old self would think if I pulled this picture book off the library shelf and saw the saluting female soldier and read the simple narrative about her motivation and experiences. I think I would feel curious, the story about trying to help family would resonate, and I would start to see another way that women participated…and made history.

The train slips away from Alexandria—the place where Private Sarah Wakeman once stood guard, drilled, and wondered if she would ever fight on a battlefield. The sunrise grows stronger, casting light on the picture book. It is open on my lap to an illustration of the 153rd New York Regiment in battle at Pleasant Hill, Louisiana. And in the classic illustration of the battle line stands Sarah Wakeman. The research, the understanding, and the interpretation of women’s roles, experiences, and placing in history is marching on.

And sometimes literally across the pages of new books for young readers.

Note:

If you are interested in the picture book, here are the details. Emerging Civil War received a copy from the publisher, and I’m pleased to share about the new book in these musings:

Guts for Glory: The Story of Civil War Soldier Rosetta Wakeman, written and illustrated by Joanna Lapati (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, 2024).

For more details, please visit the publisher’s website: https://www.eerdmans.com/9780802854643/guts-for-glory/