James Farley Lambson...Youngest Child 

Of Boaz and Polly Lambson

Much of James’ history is cast against his participation (much too weak a term) in the Civil War (what an oxymoron that term is).  This is the entry, beginning on p.225 of Our Lambson Family:

James Farley Lambson - last child of BOAZ and Polly, born in 1838, entered the Civil War and was engaged in many severe battles in the South, one in which a bullet cut a four inches long crease in his head.  We first learned that James was wounded through a clipping from a Missouri Newspaper, the Liberty Tribune, dated Feb. 22, 1884, which read “By order of the Secretary of the Interior, James F. Lambson, amputated left leg above the knee-$24.00.”  Local papers were ordered to publish the names of pensioners and the amount of government pensions being paid.

We received a written account of James’ Civil War experience from one of his great-granddaughters, Delores Hofferber of Lexington, Nebraska in 1988.  It is written by James and has no date; however he closes saying ‘that he is 80 years old.’  This would date the piece at 1918-the year of his death in Lexington, Nebraska.  He states that his unit was Co.A, Fourth Iowa Infantry.  Following is the article:

“I have read histories of many wars.  They give graphic accounts of the camp, the march, the skirmish, the battles, the prison, etc., but nothing about the experience of the wounded men.

Now I have seen these except the prison, and it is my purpose to give a brief account of some of the wounded in our war of ‘61 to ‘65.  It was in the evening of May 13th, ‘64, near Resaca, Georgia, our division was in front, and being the first to hit the rebels we had a very hard fight until night.  The rebel were all behind trees.  I saw a large tree and made a swift run for it, but it was too close to the rebels and while the ones in the front could not get me, one away to the let got a flank shot which smashed both legs near the knees.

I have often been asked how it feels to be shot.  The answer is, it all depends upon the nature of the wound.  When a bullet cut a crease four inches long on the side of my head it felt like the sudden blow of a club.  When a bullet grazes the skin it feels like the sting of a whip.  When a large shell exploded so close to my head that it scorched my hair, it knocked me down and I felt like my head was bursted for a time but my hearing came back and I was all right in three or four days; and when the bullet smashed both my knees it paralyzed them for a few minutes, and when the feeling came back I was faint and thirsty and grabbed the canteen nearly full of water and drank it all, so I didn’t suffer from thirst as wounded often do.

Next week: Life of the Wounded in the War Zone