Lizzie Compton goes to war, 1863-1864

“Another Bold Soldier Girl.” Louisville Daily Journal [Louisville, Kentucky] 5 May 1863; p. 3.

Lieutenant Garraty, of Park Barracks, brought to our office last evening a young girl in Federal uniform, who was arrested by Sergeant Murray, of the Patrol Guard, yesterday, near the railroad. She states that her name is Lizzie Compton; her parents died when she was an infant in Anderson county, Tennessee, and strangers brought her up. She fared very well, until the rebellion broke out, when she was living with Elijah Schermerhorn, who was a furious secessionist, and has since joined the Confederate army. Lizzie was true to the Union, and with female determination on all occasions asserted her loyalty, until the man attempted to punish her for her fidelity, when she left her home and found her way to a Federal regiment, the Second Minnesota, we think. For the last six months Lizzie has been known as Jack, and, although not more than sixteen years old, has gone through a great deal of service. Col. Mundy, commanding this post, proposed to her to resume the habiliments of her sex and take a position as hospital attendant, but she refused and reiterates her determination “to die before she wears anything else but Uncle Sam’s uniform, until the war is over.” In this resolve she seems inflexible and says she can die but once. She has a pleasant face, intelligent eyes, and dimpled cheeks, and is at present domiciled at the Park Barracks. Her conduct, as far as we can learn, has been irreproachable, and she feels perfect confidence in being able to protect herself. What future disposition will be made of her has not yet been determined. We shall at this rate soon have a battalion of female recruits.

“Another Female Soldier.” Louisville Daily Journal [Louisville, Kentucky] 21 December 1863; p. 1.

Lizzie Compton, a bright young lady of sixteen, arrived in the city yesterday from Bardstown, where she had been encamped with her regiment, the Eleventh Kentucky cavalry, of which she has been a member for several months past. Her history, during the past eighteen months, is strange and romantic. She has served in seven different regiments, and participated in several battles. At Fredericksburg, she was seriously wounded, but recovered, and followed the fortunes of war, which cast her from the Army of the Potomac to the Army of the Cumberland. She fought in the battle at Green River Bridge on the Fourth of July last, and received a wound which disabled her for a short time. She has been discovered and mustered out of the service seven or eight times, but immediately re-enlisted in another regiment. She states that her home is in London, Canada West, and that her parents are now living in that place. This young girl has served a term of eighteen months in the army, and, were it not that she dreads the annoyance of being detected and mustered out, she would enter the service again.

She was sent to this city by the officer in command at Bardstown to be again mustered out, and is now at Barracks No. 1, awaiting orders.

Lizzie Compton. Weekly North Iowa Times [McGregor, Iowa] 30 December 1863; p. 3.

Lizzie Compton a girl of 18 has been in 7 regiments, in several battles, been wounded &c. &c. &c. She was mustered out at Chattanooga on the 12th of December.

“Lizzie Compton, the Soldier Girl.” Union [Rochester, New York] 19 February 1864; reprinted in Daily Morning Chronicle [Washington, District of Columbia] 24 February 1864; p. 1.

[From the Rochester Union of Saturday.] [Note: brackets original]

The young female noticed yesterday as having sought to be received into the 3d cavalry turns out to be Lizzie Compton, the young soldier girl, whose career has been noticed by the Western and Southern papers.

This girl was taken to the police station yesterday. It was supposed that she was an adventurer, like many who have appeared in a similar disguise, and was therefore regarded as a disorderly person. The chief found her in Worden’s saloon talking with a young man, and told her that she was wanted by the police magistrate. She replied that she would go to him, but begged that she might be permitted to go out of the saloon unattended, that she might not appear to be under arrest. Her wish was complied with, and Lizzie, in a few minutes, stood before the magistrate—a fine specimen of a young soldier ready to give an account of herself.

She stated that she was about sixteen years of age, assuming that she had been correctly informed as to the date of her birth. Her parents died in her infancy, near Nashville, Tennessee, and she was left, as too many children are, to the tender mercies of unfeeling wretches. She was put into the field to work at an early age and was never taught any duties of the household. When a child she wore a frock—ut really never was fully clad in the apparel of her sex. At the age of 13, when the rebellion commenced, she put on the clothes of a boy and worked about the steamboats on the Western rivers. At length she sought a place in the army as a bugler, on which instrument she soon excelled.

Lizzie has been eighteen months in the service and in seven or eight regiments. She got into the ranks by fraud, taking the place of some person who had passed muster, and was discharged as soon as her sex was discovered. Among the regiments in which she served were the 70th New York, 8th, 17th, and 28th Michigan, and 24 Minnesota. Her first engagement was at Mill Springs, and she relates minutely the details of the fall of Zollicoffer. She was captured with her company and paroled by the guerilla Morgan, near Gallatin, Tenn. She fought at Fort Donelson, Shiloh, and several other places in the West. Finally she went to the Army of the Potomac, and got into the 79th New York. At the battle of Fredericksburg, early in Juy, she was wounded by a piece of shell in the side, and the surgeon discovered and disclosed her sex, which led to her dismissal after recovering in the hospital. Her secret was twice betrayed by surgeons. While in a Western regiment she undertook to ride a horse which none of her companions dare ount, and being without a saddle, she was thrown and injured, which led to betrayal.

This girl, familiar with the use of a musket, understands the manual perfectly, has performed picket and other duties of camp and field, and delights in the service. She recites camp incidents and scenes with the ardor of a youth of twelve, and longs to be with her old companions in arms. When asked if she had n fears, she replied that she was some “skeered” in the first battle, but never since, and she added that as she had done nothing to lead her to believe that she would go to a bad place in the next world, she was not afraid to die.

This girl has no education—can do no more than recite the letters of the alphabet. Nor has she had religious instruction, escept what she has accidentally received. Yet her notions of morality are such as do her credit She refers to the degraded females who follow the camp, and who mingle with the soldiers, with language of loathing and contempt. Indeed, she appears to think, that if she consents to assume the habiliments of her sex and become a woman, that she is liable to become like one of these. She has the instincts of a boy—loves boyish pursuits, and is bound to be a man. She declares that she may yet be a gentleman, but that she can never be a lady. She solemnly affirms that she is innocent of crime, and her affirmation will be taken by any one who hears her narrative.

Lizzie is five feet one inch in height, and weighs 155 pounds, and is of course, of rather stout build. She has light hair, fair complexion, and in her half military suit with high boots, and pants tucked in the tops, she has the appearance of a rosy boy of fifteen years. She carries with her a paper from the Chief of Police of Louisville, Mr. Prest, stating who she is, and commending her to the favor of the railroad superintendents. She came to this city a few days since, and went to New York to see Barnum, who had written to her. He was not then in the city, and after spending a day or two there, she became disgusted and started Westward. She arrived here without money, and sought to enlist to provide for herself. She was not discouraged at her failure. She declared that she could work at any business as a boy could do, and would earn her living if permitted to do so. She was told that the statue forbade a woman wearing a man’s clothing, and that she must abandon the practice. She would not promise to make a change—indeed she insisted that she would prefer any punishment—death even—rather than be compelled to act the part of a woman.

Bail was entered for the good behavior of the soldier girl, and she took the cars to go where, we know not. She will no doubt appear soon in some other locality.

“Police Proceedings—Tuesday, April 12.” Louisville Daily Democrat [Louisville, Kentucky] 13 April 1864; p. 2.

Wordon Harding, exposing his person on the street; fined $20. Paid.

Elizabeth Compton, disorderly conduct and dressed in men’s clothes; she has been a soldier for eighteen months, and thought that a woman had as much right to fight as a man; discharged.

“Female Soldier.” Louisville Daily Democrat [Louisville, Kentucky] 13 April 1864; p. 2.

Yesterday morning Lizzie Compton was presented before the Police Court dressed in full uniform. Lizzie, who is not more than eighteen years of age, has served in the Union army eighteen months, during which time she was wounded twice. She firs enlisted in Virginia, but her regiment was afterward transferred to the army of the Cumberland and participated in the battle of Stone river, and in that great struggle she fell in the thickest of the fight wounded. She has been mustered out of the service several times, but always returns to share the trials and privations of the tented field. In the Police Court yesterday morning she said she had as much right to fight for her country as any man. The Judge let her out and told her to go and fight.

Lizzie Compton. Louisville Daily Journal [Louisville, Kentucky] 13 April 1864; p. 3.

Lizzie Compton, a gay young soldier girl, presented herself to a recruiting officer of the 20th Kentucky on Monday night as desirous of enlisting in the service as a veteran. Her sex was suspected, and the recruiting officer turned her over to a policeman, who placed her under arrest and had her confined in the city prison for the night. Lizzie was before the Police Court yesterday morning, but Judge Johnston dismissed the case. She says that she has been in the service eighteen months, and fought in the battles of Fredericksburg and Chickamauga. She claims that she is as good a “veteran” as any eighteen month volunteer, and declares her intention of again entering the army.

“Police Proceedings—Thursday, May 12.” Louisville Daily Journal [Louisville, Kentucky] 13 May 1864; p. 3.

Larry Bohannan, drunk and disorderly conduct; fined $5.

Thos. Ludy, drunk and disorderly conduct; fined $5.

J. H. Weller and Alex. Hoffman, circulating obscene books and papers; security in $200 to answer an indictment before the Grand Jury, and security in $300 for one year’s good behavior.

Eliza Reynolds, drunk and disorderly conduct; fined $5.

Elizabeth Compton, drunk and disorderly conduct; discharged.

Yesterday a woman. Louisville Daily Democrat [Louisville, Kentucky] 17 May 1864; p. 2.

Yesterday a woman dressed in the habiliments of a man was arrested and taken before the Provost Marshal, where she gave her name as John Gavey. Upon investigation it was found that she was no less than the notorious Lizzie Compton, who has on frequent occasions been presented to the Police Court, and who has joined and deserted three different regiments. She was turned over to the civil authorities for trial and will have a hearing before Judge Johnston this morning.

“Police Proceedings—Tuesday, May 17.” Courier-Journal [Louisville, Kentucky] 18 May 1864; p. 3.

John Stevens, drunk and disorderly conduct. Dishcarged.

Mary Sweeney, drunk and disorderly conduct. Bond in $200 for three months.

John Henderson, cutting with intent to kill Joseph Gibbs. Bond in $200 to answer an indictment.

Frank Gerrard, disorderly conduct and abusing his wife. Discharged.

Lizzie Compton, bond in $200 for six months.

“Escape of Prisoners.” Louisville Daily Democrat [Louisville, Kentucky] 24 May 1864; p. 2.

Of late a number of female prisoners have made their escape from the workhouse, after having been committed there by the Judge of the City Court. A few days since Lizzie Compton, one of the most notorious characters in the town, was sent there, and yesterday she was seen on the streets. At the Police Court we have a cage, the same as used at menageries, in the witness room, and when the prisoners are held over by the Judge they are placed there by the City Marshal to await the departure of the “Black Marie.” Yesterday morning a number of convicts were placed there, including one Mary Ryan, who lately made her escape from the workhouse. While no one was in the room Mary opened the door and four of the prisoners made their escape. We do not know who is to blame for the escape of the prisoners, but it seems to us that if a more diligent watch be kept over them there would be fewer escapes.

“Police Proceedings—Wednesday, June 1.” Courier-Journal [Louisville, Kentucky] 2 June 1864; p. 1.

Lizzie Compton, the soldier girl, was again presented on the charge of disorderly conduct. Sent to the work-house.

“Police Proceedings—Wednesday, June 1.” Louisville Daily Democrat [Louisville, Kentucky] 2 June 1864; p. 2.

Lizzie Compton, an escape from the workhouse; sent back.

“Interesting Items.” Hartford Courant [Hartford, Connecticut] 31 January 1865; p. 2.

Elizabeth Compton, aged 17 years, is at present confined in prison, in New York, on a charge of petty larceny. When arrested she was dressed in male attire. She states that she served for over a year in the 25th Michigan cavalry, was wounded at the engagement at Greenbriar Bridge, in Tennessee, and on being removed to the hospital at Lebanon, Ky., her sex was discovered and on her recovery she was dishcarged from the service. Her object in coming to New York was to avail herself of an engagement offered her by Barnum, but that on her arrival he declined to engage her.

“ ‘Johnny’: Another Girl Who was Discovered Wearing the Blue.” National Tribune [Washington, District of Columbia] 25 September 1884; p. 7.

Johnny was apparently about 17 years old, slight in form, clear, fair complexion, brown eyed and attractive. Who he really was we never knew. We first saw him while on the march to Green River, Ky.; it was afternoon, and very hot, when he quietly fell in by the side of an orderly of one of the companies, and after a short conversation said in a pleasant voice, “You look so tired. Let me carry your knapsack; it will rest you.” The Sergeant, being glad to get rid of his load, gave him the knapsack as requested. He knew that the boy, who said his name was Johnny, did not belong to our regiment, and could only learn that he was a citizend, and that his home was in Pennsylvania. Towards night we came to a body of timber, through which a creek ran; here we halted to camp, and when the boys broke ranks Johnny was in his element,—full of fun, throwing sticks in the water to spatter the boys who were trying to wash the dust from their heated faces, singing snatches of songs, and making merry generally. Soon the fires were blazing all about the camp. The smell of fried bacon and the aroma of coffee was rapidly sharpening our appetites. The Sergeant and Lieutenant of his company were patiently waiting the slow movements of their cook, a dilapidated old darkey, when Johnny, taking in the situation, asked permission to help get supper. Without an answer (a look from the Lieutenant being sufficient), he rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands and arms, and in a short time had some splendid light biscuits baked, the bacon was fried to a nice brown, some eggs was cooked and temptingly placed on the bright tin plates, washed and brightened while supper was cooking. For weeks after Johnny cooked for this mess and always had everything neat and tidy. In a few days we arrived at our destination. By this time the whole detachment had become acquainted with Johnny, and all liked him. Yet the sly glances cast at him, and the whispered conversations carried on in groups here and there, showed that the boys suspicioned him of something. At last it came out; Johnny was believed to be a girl, and, on being taken to headquarters and questioned, admitted, with tears streaming down her cheeks, that she was, and begged that she might be allowed to stay with us. * * * A fight with the enemy was liable to occur at any hour, and no time was to be had now to send her out of the lines. The next morning, at daybreak, the expected battle began and raged furiously for three hours. During all this time Johnny was on every portion of the field, reckless of danger, between the contending lines, giving the wounded water or such attention as they most needed, tenderly caring for all, Union and rebel alike. When the battle ceased her clothing and bare arms were red with blood. Seeing the Colonel just then, she touched her cap and said: “Didn’t we whip them nicely. Three cheers for our brave Colonel.” The next day the command started to join its brigade, and when we reached Lebanon Johnny was left behind. * * * Months passed. Sherman’s victorious army, of which our regiment was a part, had surrounded Atlanta; fighting was constant and furious, and one of our men, among many others, was badly wounded and conveyed to a hospital at Mariette. While there, half delirious with pain, he was awakened by a hand laid gently in his and a woman’s voice saying, “Don’t you know me? I am Johnny.” At first he did not recognize her; she was now dressed in woman’s apparel. But when he looked again he knew she indeed was Johnny, and to that poor boy, sick in body and in mind from the loss of a limb, it was like meeting a long lost sister. It is needless to say that from thence on until he was able to go home he had every care that it was possible to give, Johnny was with him nearly every hour, as tenderly nursing him as a mother. They had many conversations regarding her life, but he could never learn anything definite about her. She was one of those mysteries of which army life was full. Perhaps some great wrong, some great sorrow drove her from home. Of this we may never know; but we do know that many a brave boy who was wounded or sick will never forget “Johnny.”