DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it — and brother, this one deserves every word. Ninety thousand Texas men rode off to fight for the Confederacy, and somebody had to hold the whole sprawling state together while they were gone. That somebody was the women they left behind.
Farms, businesses, households — all of it, dropped into their laps in a land that had precious few factories to begin with, and an enemy blockade cutting off what little it could import. Letters of instruction came in through the uncertain mails, if they came at all. The men committed their hopes to paper and trusted the post.
The women acted. With the help of children, old men, and loyal slaves, they furnished the Army and the Confederacy with grain, meat, and cotton — cotton for home consumption and for foreign exchange, traded for guns, gunpowder, factory goods, drugs, and other supplies that a blockaded state couldn't manufacture fast enough on its own. They ran newspapers.
They loaded shells. They made gun caps. They did what the marker calls, plain as day, the man's work of many kinds.
And then, after all that, they came home and cooked and sewed and nursed the sick and taught the children and raised the families. Now here's the part that makes you stop and stare. These women grew poppies.
Actual poppies. And they squeezed the seed pods with their own hands to supply opiates to the hospitals. They carded cotton and wool, spun it, wove it, then dyed that homemade cloth with bark and roots pulled right out of the Texas earth.
They plaited palmetto or corn shucks into hats. When the coffee ran out, they made it from acorns or vegetables. When tea got scarce, sage or orange leaves did the job.
They made medicines from herbs and plants, because the blockade didn't care whether your child had a fever. And through all of this — all of it — two thousand miles of coastline and frontier surrounded them. That's two thousand miles of exposure to invasion, to Indian raids, to marauders ranging across the countryside.
The peril was not abstract. It was at the door. Four years, they held.
Four years of pluck, of ingenuity, of quiet and not-so-quiet heroism, until the war ended and the work changed but did not stop — because then came the rebuilding of a defeated South, and the women of Texas had already proven they knew how to carry what needed carrying. The marker stands as a tribute. Seems about right.
What the marker says
Civilian duties of 90,000 Texas men fighting for the Confederacy fell to wives back home in land of few factories and an enemy blockade that cut down on imports. Women had to run businesses and farms for their absent men who committed to the uncertain mails their letters of instruction. Yet with help of children, old men and loyal slaves, furnished Army and the Confederacy with grain, meat and cotton for home consumption and foreign exchange for guns, gunpowder, factory goods, drugs and other supplies. Ran newspapers. Loaded shells. Made gun caps. Did "man's work" of many kinds, in addition to homemaking, sewing, nursing, teaching and child care. Made medicines from herbs and plants. Grew poppies and squeezed the seed pods to supply opiates to the hospitals. Carded cotton and wool, spun and wove, then dyed the homemade cloth with bark or roots. Plaited palmetto or corn shucks to make hats. Made coffee of acorns or vegetables, tea of sage or orange leaves. On 2,000 miles of coastline and frontier, faced personal hazards from invasion or Indian raids. Elsewhere were in peril from marauders. Through the four years won admiration for their pluck, and maintained faith enough to help rebuild the defeated South.