there was a new website where you can find our schedules and preview the upcoming programs. watch the weekly series as well as the history tweets. history in the news and social media. follow american history tv all weekend every weekend on c-span 3 and online at c-span.org/history. army digest number eight includes two programs. first is the matthew brady story about the famous civil war photographer. the second is the clara barton story. the film aired as part of the big picture series from 1951 to 1971 and shown on abc and in

syndication from 1951 to the 1970s. the series focused on battles and figures in u.s. military history. it's about 30 minutes. . >> the u.s. army presents the big picture. an official report produced for the armed forces and the american people. now to show i part of the big picture, here is sergeant stewart queen. >> 100 years ago, a moment us event occurred. known as the tragic war of brother against brother, the

civil war was one of the darkest moments in history. out of this period, we selected two stories to show you. the first is called matthew brady. brady was the first historian of any war and his pictures live on today to recall yesterday's history. the second story is called clara barton. it shows a segment from the life of a dedicated woman during the civil war. now let's go back through history with matthew brady. >> the camera's eye. the magic eye that captures and holds the moment's action, a pinpoint in time. today the camera serves as ever-expanding field of uses familiar to all service men. yet for most of us, photographer is by fixing chapters in our own lives and the lives of those

around us. there was a day before of crude wooden box cameras. fortunately for us it was a day that a small group of pioneers foresaw the possibilities of that magic eye. a young farm boy was chief among those enthusiasts. in addition his own work, brady collected the prints of others, building a record of our american past. the nation's capital in unpave dirt streets and horse drawn vehicles. replacing that earlier white house destroyed in the war of

1812 was the handsome foam of our presidents. when we speesk them, their faces are familiar. andrew jackson. their faces were woman with the work of andrew brady. pride of our growing culture. ed car allen poe. washington irving. walt whitly. what school boys don't know? henry clay.

daniel webster. men who shape and guide our young republic. they built well. but soon within the capital, still awaiting the completion of the now familiar dome, the clouds of the slavery issue threatened unity. as the crisis sharpened, he saw a new use of the camera. abraham lincoln who brady photographed now sat in washington as president of the divide nation. from him, brady received permission to make a record of the war that could not be held back. we are coming, father abraham responding to lincoln's call to arms.

by today's standards, the agreeing manpower had to be supplied in equipment furnished with weapons needed to fight this floodiest war. the means to move the masses were organized and assembled. this was a day before the phrase motor cool had been coined. old dobbin was the hay powered imagine. they recorded all. what is it wagons was the name soldiers gave to the horse-drawn

photo labs that brady sent to the field. the contraptions were to become a familiar site when men were mustered and trained. training then meant the close order drill, but long forgotten formations such as the hollow square attack. the cigarette had not been invented, but they took ten and welcomed the break from duty. preparation has their own grim ends. the conflicts flaired into full name and presently the capital itself had to fling up hasty defenses against sudden and determined attacks. war now in full violence was

being carried to the inland waters as well as on the high seas. the nation's chip yards were turning out newer gun belts. for the first time they saw revolutionary new shifts in armor. the expanding navy ceased to be the property with the deeply rooted sea-faring traditions. men and more men were needed. they came from inland cities in the western plains. mechanic and farmer proved they could develop sea legs and the man of 40 pounders. youngsters who could run powder to the waiting guns.

the awakening sciences found uses on the battlefield. the telegraph core from which emerged today's signal brought new speed into communications. so highly technical that they were civilian technicians. warfare into the skies. balloon reconnaissance was deployed to spot enemy batteries. they were set adrift in the belief that a favorable breeze would carry it back. sometimes it did. a civilian origin was the basketbally cemetery commission. it would evolve into the present red cross.

the tragic a aspects were soon evident. this was richmond, virginia. charleston. fredericksburg. they were uprooted. the homeless refugee. the prisoner of war doomed to captivity. these were the wounded when the era of trifling flesh wound would lead to gang green and amputation. they were few and far behind the lines. finally war meant those who would fight no more.

a total not even reached in world war ii. what do we know of the day to day life of a man who served? like his counterpart today, he lived in countless company streets. the winter quarters were crude log shacks built by himself. they killed boredom in his own way. polished up before endless inspections and reviews. when and where possible, he enjoyed rare visits from family and friends. there was no handy px, but licensed trays men called settlers to set up shop and followed the troops into the field and on their campaigns.

and his own buddies. like today, there was always one comic, one clown. he prayed for survival over the war's end. with the collapse of the confed rasy and general lee surrendered to general grant. yes, peace came. only after battlefields like

gettysburg immortalized the courage of brother ranged against brother. gettysburg where a parade and now forgotten ceremonies introduced a never to be forgotten address. the camera brings us ford theater and the presidential box where the tragedy struck. it brings us to the actress laura keen. the last person on home the unhelping presidents rested. it even preserved for us the

21-year-old dr. leo who emerged to attend the dying lincoln. and an era ended. the first, but not the last to be seen through the magic eye of the camera. the pages of our history with new pages yet to be added. all our yesterdays preserved for generations to come. for this a cheerment, a major share of our gratitude must rest with the fore say the made possible. he lived to within four years of our own century. the pioneer, matthew brady. >> clara barton is famous in history today as the founder of the american red cross. to the wounded soldiers, both

the blue and the gray, she was remembered as the angel of mercy whoa fed them and treated their wounds. she had no official standard. she received no money for her services. yet this dedicated woman devoted her life to the cause of humanity. it was the fall of 1862. for more than a year the civil war raged and only a series of sharp defeats. casualties are high. they could have died on the field for lack of proper care. each had been a costly failure for the union forces.

in the north, they started to wonder if the south could be defeated and the union preserved. in the most tragic and bitterly fighting our nation has known, americans fought against american and it is casualty list for both sides skyrocket as on american hills and in american valleys, they flung their hot metal among the men on horses on both sides. perhaps especially so to clara barton. she decided to do something about it. the already spare face of the man in the white house seem grow more under a constant early demand for an early end to the war.

general robert e. lee did not help the situation as south of the potomac he added legend by routing a vastly superior union force at menassis junction. general john pope who commanded the union forces of menassis was outgeneral and outfought by lee's troops undered the leadership of stonewall jackson. flushed with repeated successes and confidence, they took the offensive. word was flashed to washington that the army of virginia was innovating the north. speculation and rumor began to whisper that the end of the car was in sight as the threat to

washington grew. lincoln sent word to al vand ria an urgent call of the union army. general george mclellan had been in space after the campaign. now lincoln summoned him back and his orders are stop lee at all costs. those costs were to be high. on september 17th, 1862, union and confederate forces would meet near the towns of sharpsburg and haegerstown, maryland. more than 1,000 men would be involved in the battle. and one woman, clara barton, would carve for herself a unique place in the annuals of service of mankind.

the day the battle began however she was just a dedicated woman driving a wagonloaded with provisions across the countryside. nears later, she would recall that day of blood and anguish and reit in her own words. >> with my tendoned i sought the hill tops and as the mist cleared away and the morning sun broke over the maryland heights, the rays fell upon the dusty forms of dying men. many of you may never hear the notes that call men to battle, but if like us, you had heard them that grim september morning as they rang through the valley and echoed from the hundred hills, they would have lingered

in your ears as they do in mine. the battle had commenced on the right, and thinking our place might be there, we had been following the army since dawn. for the last eight miles, we could trace its course by the broken bodies of the wounded who rested along the roadside. turning near a cornfield, we stopped in the rear of the last gun. judging that surgeons must be operating there, i took my arms, full of stimulants and bandages and approached the house. the smell of death hung heavy in the yard. a table stood on the porch with

a wounded man lying on it, a surgeon working over him with the most rudimentary equipment. there, i came face to on face with one of the kindest, noblest doctors i have ever known, dr. dunn of konatville, pennsylvania. i quickly learned of his difficulties. they had not a bandage, rag, lint or string and all around him, she would wounded men were pleading to death. with a great joy, i laid my precious burden down among them and thought, never before had linen looked so white. determined to set up aid in the yards, i told him of my needs, and he dispatched a soldier to help me with the unloading of supplies. there was a spring house in the yard and i decided to use this as my headquarters.

my instructions were to unload the provisions and place them inside for the ordeal that would follow. we had met wounded men walking or being carried to the rear for the last two miles. but around the barn, there lay the men who were too badly wounded to admit removal. some 300 had collected already and it was scarcely 10:00. the echo of the gun promised there would be many more. my first act on the field taught me the real tragedy of battle. a man called to me for a drink. i stopped to give it and having raised him in my arms was holding him. he fell back, dead, a bullet had fed between us, tearing a hole

in my sleeve and burying itself in his body. there was no more to be done for him and i left him for his rest. i have never mended that hole in my sleeve and i wonder if a soldier ever does mend the bullet hole in his coat. the patient endurance of these men was astonishing. by the wooden fence, a soldier lay with a bullet launched in his chic. i told him i would go for the surgeon, but he said, they can't come from for me now, he said. i have to wait my turn. please, you take out the bullet for me. this was a new call. i could not with stand his entreaty. nearby lay a sergeant from illinois with a bullet directly

through both his legs. when he saw that i had no way of supporting the soldier's head, he shoved himself along the ground with a desperate effort and took the wounded man's head in his hands. ♪ i do not think a surgeon would have pronounced it a scientific operation. the doctor suffered almost as much as the patient. but from the relief the man had from his pain, i dared to hope it was successful. three times that day, the ground was contested, lost and won. and each time, it brought

hundreds of wounded from the field to our crowded ground. each had to be aided and each drained our supplies to the danger mark. at 2:00, an attendant came to tell me that the last loaf of bread had been cut and the last cracker pounded. we had three boxes of wine still unopened. what should they do? open the wine and give them that, i said, and god help us. the next instant brought a shout from sergeant fields who had opened the first box. of 12 boxes of wine which we carried, the first nine were packed in sawdust. these last three, when all else was gone, were found to be packed in indian cornmeal. a woman does not hesitate long under such circumstances. there was a fireplace in the spring house.

kettles were picked up and set over the fire and as quickly as i tell it, i was mixing water and meal for gruel. all the day, my men cared buckets of hot gruel from the buckets to the wounded and lying where they fell. food was given both north and south alike, recognizing the need, not the uniform. ♪ never again was i to experience such a sensation of wealth and competency. we fed hundreds that day. for many, it was the first meal since the guns of battle exploded that morning. for many, it provided the will and strength to endure their pain. twilight began to descend and there were still many to be tended.

for the first time since i arrived, i saw dr. dunn stop and stand alone in the darkness. you look tired, doctor, i said. yes, he was tired. tired of neglect and heartlessness. here were hundreds of men to be operated on and there was no light to work by. it was then that i called for the lantern diet brought in the wagon. he looked at me, saying little, but his eyes reflected his gratitude. through the long starlit night, we worked and hoped and prayed. the lights were never flush and the tables were never empty. to some we could promise repair

and hope. all we could give to others was a comfortable place to die. men died that night, slowly and with full relation that life was ebbing out of them. it was to be a northern victory, but the victory was costly for both sides. while the guns grew silent, the sounds of tortured men filled the air as an encore of battle. how does one measure victory? antietam was a victory for the union. the cannon remained on the field while the south retreated across the river. the high tide of the confederacy was turned back. the emancipation proclamation was born. but to me, the real victory, the

real courage of that memorable day was the endurance of all the soldiers to the greatest physical agony and mental anguish, the greatest inhumanity that man can create for man to them belongs the honor, the memory, the triumph of that day. ♪ there's a new website where you caew