Originally aired on November 08, 1996 - In part 115 of our Civil War series, Virginia Tech history professor James Robertson describes the rag-tag uniforms that both Northern and Southern troops were forced to wear.
#115 – Uniforms
No one has ever accused the Army of exquisite tailoring in its uniforms. Yet it has made improvements with time. One might say that things could only get better after what Civil War soldiers were given to wear.
At the start of the war, every conceivable type of uniform existed in the Federal armies. The outfits ranged from the baggy red trousers of French Zouaves to the heavy antique garb of ancient militia organizations, and from broadcloth to satin. In some Northern regiments, each of the ten companies wore a different uniform. Both sides in 1861 had units’ clothes in blue as well as gray.
Another problem existed with government-issue uniforms: there were only four sizes. This led a New England recruit to observe: “Here were short men with trousers so long they had to be turned up well-nigh to the knees to prevent the wearer from tripping. There were tall men with garments so short as clearly to reveal a pair of attenuated calves.”
In the 10th Rhode Island was a soldier who stood only four feet, eleven inches tall. A messmate noted that “his first set of army drawers reached to his chin. This he considers very economical, as it saves the necessity of shirts.”
Most uniforms were of wool and worn year-rounds. They became repeatedly soaked with perspiration. Yet washing them was rarely done because doing so shrank the clothing to a level where it could no longer be worn.
Every shape and form of hat was initially in evidence, from the snappy French-inspired kepi to huge broad-brimmed coverings that resembled inverted coal scuttles. Shoes tended to be one size: namely, too big. A Billy Yank with a sense of humor characterized his new boots as “easy to march in, easy to drill in, and large enough to sleep in”. He added: “They are so broad-soled, that I have taken one off, and, putting a piece of brown paper on it, have improvised a satisfactory writing-desk”.
By the time of the first winter encampment, uniforms were a far cry from their original appearance. Duties in the field, in all kinds of weather and without anything akin to a full change of clothing, reduced most soldiers North and South to some stage of raggedness. A year into the war, a Union soldier complained: “Our uniforms at this time would disgrace a beggar.”
The following year, a major in an Illinois regiment confessed to his wife: “If you could see me in my rags and dirt as I am now, you would laugh first and then cry.” At the same time, a South Carolina veteran gave his wife a report on the status of his trousers. “They will soon be gone forever, but I am perfectly satisfied that they will go in peace, for there is no doubt of their hol(e)iness…If you were to see me in them, you might mistake me for a zebra, leopard, or something equally outrageous.”
How bad was it by 1863? A Louisiana soldier declared after watching the passage of 400 Texas cavalry: “If the Confederacy has no better soldiers than those, we are in a bad row for stumps, for they look more like Baboons mounted on goats than anything else.”
Insufficient clothing was a characteristic of most Civil War armies, especially those from the Confederacy. Yet for the most part the men bore their lot silently and dutifully. In 1864 a Pennsylvania volunteer commented: “If Congressmen at Washington, or the Rebel Congress at Richmond, were required to endure the hardships of a soldier’s life during one campaign, the war would then end.”
That was no exaggeration in the minds of countless numbers of Johnny Rebs and Billy Yanks.
