David Palmer Patrick
April 25, 2017
I did not expect to hear his voice.
In this handwritten letter from October 1863, David Patrick writes home from Little Rock, Arkansas—sharing small details of daily life, family, and the quiet realities of war that still echo across time.
April 3, 2017
(Part 4 of the David Patrick Series)
This is Part 4 of a 4-part series exploring the life and legacy of David Patrick (1838–1864). This final part reconstructs his last days—drawn from history, records, and what can be understood of the battle that took his life.
David Patrick was one of three Civil War soldiers in my family.
He was our casualty.
His story has stayed with me for years.
What follows is a narrative reconstruction based on historical events, military records, and the known movements of the 40th Iowa Infantry.
David’s belly had been empty for two days.
Cold coffee in the morning.
Cold coffee at night.
The 40th Iowa and General Steele’s Brigade had been retreating from Camden, Arkansas—falling back toward Little Rock. The plan to push into Texas had failed. Supplies were gone. The countryside had already been stripped bare.
The army moved fast.
Too fast to eat.
Too fast to rest.
Too fast to think about anything except survival.
The Confederate army pressed behind them.
Wagons sank into the mud up to their axles. Soldiers dropped what they could not carry—blankets, clothing, anything that slowed them down.
When the Union army reached the Saline River, it was no longer just a river. It was a barrier between survival and disaster.
They could not cross.
So they built a bridge.
David’s company was ordered to hold the line.
They took position in a low swale—standing water pooling in the furrows of a newly planted cornfield.
David knew this kind of land.
He had walked fields like this.
Worked them.
Planned his future in them.
No one belongs in a field like that in the rain.
Not farmers.
Not soldiers.
And yet—there they were.
Ten thousand men moving across a farmer’s work, turning soil into mud.
A farm boy notices these things.
Even in war.
They had trained for this.
Iowa City.
Columbus, Kentucky.
Little Rock.
Now it was real.
The order came.
Fire.
The rain held the smoke low. Fog and gunpowder filled the air. Visibility vanished. The men fired at shapes, sounds, movement.
“The firing… was terrific and the struggle desperate beyond description.”
There was no glory here.
Only noise.
Mud.
Fear.
And then—
David was hit.
He fell into the water-filled furrow.
The battle moved around him.
Shots cracked. Men shouted. The line held.
And then came the bugle.
Retreat.
The army crossed the river.
David did not.
The wounded were left behind.
The rain did not stop.
Men lay where they fell—cold, soaked, and calling out.
Some were beyond help.
Others waited.
Pain was everywhere.
Surgeons came later.
Not enough of them.
Not enough supplies.
The wounded became prisoners.
David was carried from the field—alive, but badly hurt.
He was taken first to a farmhouse.
Then moved.
Twenty miles to Tulip, Arkansas.
Then on to Camden.
Back to the place the Union army had just abandoned.
There was little food.
Little medicine.
Little hope.
The land had already been stripped bare by armies moving through.
Wounds that might have healed did not.
Infection set in.
Gangrene.
Pain without relief.
At some point, David would have understood.
He was not going home.
He would not see his wife again.
He would not hold his son.
He would not build the farm he had planned.
David Patrick died far from home.
Alone.
Wounded.
And remembered.
He never saw his son.
His story does not end at Jenkins Ferry.
It continues—in the family that followed, in the land he once worked, and in the records that carried his name forward until his story could be told.
Across time, what was lost is not entirely gone.
It remains—in memory, in history, and now, in words.
This narrative is based on a combination of historical records and family research, including:
This narrative is based on historical records and military movements associated with the 40th Iowa Infantry, combined with family research. Where exact details are not recorded, this account reflects historically grounded interpretation.
The story of David Patrick is drawn from historical records, military documentation, and preserved personal correspondence.
View full source list: David Palmer Patrick — Research and Sources
Full Series:
March 6, 2017
A young Iowa farmer leaves his family behind to enlist in the Civil War—David Patrick’s story is one of duty, risk, and the choices that shape generations.