Kari's Clan - 5

“Why did you go to Moscow when your brother was living in Perry?” asked Berte.

“My husband, Ole, had relatives who’d settled in Moscow, and they’d found a farm that they thought we might buy.”

“And did you?”

“No,” and again Kari was weeping. “Not a week after we settled in Moscow, Ole became sick, and he, too, had cholera.”

“I really don’t know anything about cholera. How did you know that he had it?”

“There had been cholera in Wisconsin for several years by that time, and the immigrants were accused of bringing it. Everyone thought that it came in with the ships, and we knew only too well that the cholera bug had been on our ship.

“In the towns there were no sewage systems, no clean water, and no effective methods for keeping and preserving foods, so it’s no wonder.

“Asiatic Cholera, as it was called, is spread through the consumption of infected food or water. Given the uncleanliness of the village at the time the atmosphere was ripe for the spread of disease. In the
summer months the weather was perfect for breeding the germs. Each day was boiling hot and each night there were thunderstorms and much rain which left puddles of stagnant water in the muddy streets.

“But, you asked me how I knew that was what he had. The symptoms of cholera and the swiftness with which it crept upon a person were the worst aspects. First the affected person would experience a faint fluttering sensation in the heart, followed by dizziness, headaches, cramps in the legs, indigestion, and a sense of creeping closeness over the surface of the body accompanied by occasional hot flashes of fever.

“As the disease progressed colic-like pains would wander through the body. Vomiting became severe and a loss of bowel control would also occur. In addition, the inside of the mouth took on a darker hue than normal and an insatiable thirst would ensue.

“Towards the end the symptoms would worsen and then, just before death, everything eases and sweet oblivion would come with but little additional suffering. The sad fact about cholera is that if a person managed to survive the first few days of an attack a full recovery could be expected. But the cures often killed swifter than the actual disease.”

“What do you mean? How did you try to cure him? Did he go to the doctor?”

“Ole’s brother knew of what he thought would be a cure. So he dosed him every half an hour with a mixture of gum opium, gum camphor and carbonate of soda that did no good.

“Then his wife had heard of another treatment to aid in combating the cold, clammy feeling and involved bathing the person with a mixture of brandy and cayenne pepper. How stupid they were.”

“None of it helped, I expect,” said Berte.

“The newspapers advised that great care should also be taken in the diet, as little cold water as possible used, and excesses of fatigue studiously guarded against. It stated that people should drink no alcohol, and but little cold water; be moderate in your diet, confining yourselves principally to vegetable food.”

“So are you saying he was dying for a drink, but you couldn’t give him one?”

“That’s about it. We were getting frantic.  We heard about a case in the next town where a whole family had died within a few days of cholera, and the neighbors got together and burned the house to the ground, with all of them still inside.”

“I hope they made sure first that they were all dead,” added Berte.

“In Moscow, in August, 1851, 14 people died from Asiatic Cholera. Ole only lasted a few weeks after we arrived there.”

“That is so sad,” said Berte. Then she was surprised when Kari suddenly started to smile.

“I've just remembered the poem that used to be chanted in those days. It went like this:

“Now fill your glasses to the brim

And drink with steady eyes

Here’s to those already dead

And here’s to the next who dies.”

“So after Ole died, did you continue to live with his brother?”

“Only for a short while, but my brother Ole (the one who wrote all those letters) invited us to come and live with him and his family on their farm and we were pleased to do so. They had had another daughter by this time, Merit, born in 1849.”

“So how long did you live with Ole then?”

"The next year, one of my other brothers, Knud, decided to come here as well, as the Kjorstad Gaard, our family home, had been sold, and as he was not married, it was decided that my Knud and I would make our home with him - as he otherwise would have been on his own.
And Ole’s wife was expecting another child in September, who turned out to be Astrid, and they really needed the space in their house.

“Did Knud live in Perry too?”

“No, he had money to buy a property near Mount Horeb, but we still saw our other brother each week at church. Ole had become very involved in the new township of Perry, and he helped build the first Lutheran church there.”

“Is that the same place as where the church is today?”

“Yes, although it’s been altered and changed many times over the years. But in those days, in Daleyville, there was the church, a store, owned by O.B. Dayle, two blacksmith shops, a wagon ship, a school house, a post office and a physician as well as a church. So it was quite a thriving community.” (pictured above)

And after all of this, they dug in the box, and Kari found pictures of each of her brothers and their wives and children. Berte had brought paper with her, and took notes of who was on each picture – and according to the instructions given her by her husband, put a clip with each picture, giving the details of where and when it was taken, and who was in the photo.

 

February 4, 1906

When Berte arrived at Kari’s house the next Wednesday, she found that Kari had been into the trunk and had found out several letters that she particularly wanted to talk to Berte about.

“You weren’t in this country when the Civil War took place, but several of our relatives took part in it.”

“Were they forced to go?”

“There was a drafting of young men in the country, and each got a letter telling him that it was his duty to fight for his county. Here in Wisconsin they got up a regiment which was 90% made of Norwegian emigrants. Many of them were our neighbors, but your husband, Knud, wasn’t called up as he was too young. Some of my second husband, Knud Saalsaa’s sons were - but I didn’t know them then.”

“So who are these letters from?”

“My nephew, Ole.”

“Why didn’t he write to his own folks?”

“He probably did, but his father, my brother Thrond, the eldest of us, didn’t come to this area until 1866, with his daughter Merit and her family - but others of his children came very early. One of these was Ole Chester as he came to be known. That name change was due to the war too. They couldn’t spell or pronounce Kjorster, so made it something they considered pretty close. He came to the States when he was about 22 in 1852, but he didn’t come here to Wisconsin, but rather to Cripple Creek, Colorado, where he prospected for gold.”

“Did he find any?”

“I don’t really know that I ever asked him about that. He served for four years in the Civil War, and as he had by this time become disillusioned with gold mining, I guess he hadn’t done too well out
of it. Letters to his parents would take months to get there, and a reply back, so he sent letters to us here in Wisconsin, because when the war was over, he hoped to come to our state to live.”

“Should I start reading one?”

Kari nodded, and sat patiently while Berte struggled to get the ribbon off the rather large bunch of letters. “Do you want me to read all of these?”

“Just start with the first one or two, and then we will see.”

December 8, 1861

Dear Aunt Kari and Uncle Knud,

“You remember from what I told you before, that we were living with my brother Knud by that time,” Kari interrupted.

On November 8, a friend, Thor Olsen came to my house. He was a sergeant from Norway who had been in this country for a time. So he could speak tolerably good English. After we had talked about the war for a short while, Thor told me that a battle had been fought at Fort Henry, an engagement that the Northern forces had won. Prospects, therefore, were that the war would not last very long. Furthermore, a bounty of $100 was offered for enlisting plus $13 per month in salary as well as free food and clothes. These terms struck me as rather good. And, on top of it all, I would have an opportunity to travel and see a great deal. So I enlisted for three years or the duration of the war.

So now we are on basic training. I wish to tell a little about conditions at our camp. Both the sleeping quarters and the dining hall are built of plain boards, with walls of only a single
thickness. We have a large stove, but it is of little avail against the severe cold which besets us. The dining hall is a structure containing ten tables, each large enough to accommodate a hundred
men. There are no chairs, and so we have to stand while we eat. The kitchen is at one end of the hall. The food is not the best, but it is no use to complain. We have to eat what is served or else starve.

Hoping you are settling well in your new life. I look forward to coming to see you when this is all over. Please write to me.

Best wishes from your nephew,

Ole Kjorster (they call me Ole Chester now, so you have to address the letters like that.)

“And did you write to him?” asked Berte.

“Oh, yes. I sent him a letter most weeks, and I think he really appreciated it. Read the next one now.”

April 10, 1862

Dear
Aunt and Uncle (and little cousin)

I wish you all a Happy Easter and hope you are keeping well.

On March 2 our basic training finally over, three of our regiments were ready to set off for the front. At 8:00 o’clock in the morning, we left the camp in a blinding snow storm. When we arrived at Chicago; it was raining and the streets were full of mud.

Now we were off again and we went aboard a very large boat down the Mississippi and reached St. Louis where we were transferred to another large steamer which carried us to Cairo, Illinois and where were ordered to cross the Mississippi to Bird’s Point, Missouri. After getting there, we moved on a distance of three miles and were then arranged in line of battle, because an enemy regiment was located nearby. We stormed forward, but when we came within range of the rebels, they took to their heels as quickly as possible. There was no opportunity for a fight, but we pursued them seven miles and took several prisoners. We stayed at this place some days to guard a railroad which runs south from St. Louis. Our first skirmish gave us courage. If all the Southern soldiers are such cowards, we should not have such a bad war.

We tramped back to the river and encamped for several days. Then we were ordered aboard a steamer which was to accompany the fleet. Going downstream, we came to Hickman, Kentucky without meeting any opposition. Two regiments were ordered ashore. We marched nine miles
into the country, burned a railway bridge, and tore up a stretch of the railroad three miles long. We returned to camp the following morning. Three thousand rebel troops were located beyond the bridge
so we had burned it to prevent them from coming to Hickman.

For three days, our flotilla continued throwing bombs into their camp. Then our men became impatient with this long wait, and one of our ironclads was sent half a mile farther down the river. Now the enemy opened fire, blazing away so that we could see water spurting all around the little gunboat - but it returned unharmed.

We estimate that there might be between 2,000 and 3,000  rebels and that they have somewhere between twenty and thirty large cannon, besides some small ones.

The Mississippi was very high and the lowlands are flooded. We have to wade through cold water reaching above our knees in order to find higher ground where we can stand guard. This is difficult for those of us who are not as yet inured to such hardships. Many became sick and had to be sent to hospitals in the North.

We came upon a sleeping enemy guard and took him prisoner. We had now arrived at a large plain and could see the Confederate camp on the opposite edge. Three cannon we had brought along were put in place and discharged. Then we saw tent tatters flying in the air and we rushed forward. When we drew near and fired a salvo, they took to their heels. We captured several prisoners and seventy horses and mules besides some wagons, and then set fire to the camp. Before we
reached our headquarters, we were attacked by some of the rebel cavalry, who fired away at us. We held them at bay, however, and arrived unharmed. Thus ended our second skirmish with the Confederates, and it seems as if things are going very well. We are feeling like the old Vikings who never shunned a fight.

Thank you, Aunt Kari, for your letters. I do appreciate getting them, but now you should send them to me at Hickman, Kentucky.

Best wishes from your nephew,

Ole Chester