Bon jour, I am Octave Francois Vallette.
I was born March 15, 1827 in New Orleans, Louisiana.
In the middle 19th century, my father and I, possessed a great portion of the 5th district of New Orleans. With my fellow Pickwickian, Mr. Norbert Trepagnier, I organized the Algiers Guard which fought with great distinction during the Civil War. I was a first Lieutenant when I volunteered my services for the Confederate cause. After the tragic shooting of the Commander Trepagnier (he was shot in the mouth, severely wounded and sent back home to recuperate), I took command of the unit. Our unit. the Algiers Guards, was Company A of the Thirtieth Louisiana Infantry Forces. I was wounded in the Atlanta Campaign near Ezra Church / Columbus, GA. My male servant and I were aided by Ms. Katherine Winters, who nursed the wound in my upper arm. In a delirious and feverish condition when rescued, I feared the loss of my sword arm and refused anesthesia while the doctor cleaned the gangrene in my arm. They wanted to amputate my arm, but I refused. I told them that I would rather die than loose the use of my dueling arm. I was on leave with this injury when the war ended.
I was associated with my father, Francois Vallette, in a dry dock business in Algiers (across the river from New Orleans). When the Union Navy occupied New Orleans, these docks were badly needed to assist in repair of the Union warships. However, we immediately sank the Vallette docks and warehouses and lost millions of dollars to the bottom of the Mississippi River rather than allow the Yankees to use them for repairs.
I was a member in good standing of the New Orleans' Pickwick Club, where I held many offices.
After my wife's (Caroline Durbridge) death, I married her sister Esther
Durbridge and had one child Mary Ruiz Vallette. We lived in Long Beach, MS until
my death on August 22, 1902.
Mrs. Winters drove hastily home, and soon, through her husband's active service, the sufferer was lying in a large room with every necessity for comfort but comfort was far from him. My sister and self constituted ourselves assistant nurses to Henri, the valet, who told us his master was Captain Vallette of New Orleans, and had a wife and children. The patient's pulse and temperature, demanding prompt attention, we summoned the chief of the medical staff of Columbus, who told us that nothing could save the life of the man but amputation, possibly under the influence of chloroform, the use of which Vallette would not allow. We learned that the doctors had visited him in the field, but a hard chill had followed the effort to dress the wound, so painful had it become that they had desisted further effort. On beholding the wound revealed by Henri for the first time we nearly fainted from the awful stench and appearance of the arm for gangrene had set in, and the flesh was so decayed that the bone of the arm was visible. but hopeless as seemed the case, I resolved, if possible to attempt chloroform, so with all the diplomacy in my power I broached the subject pretending ignorance of its refusal of its use. "No, Madam, " he said with deep feelings, "No, Madam, they wish to render insensible and then take off my sword arm. No, I will die with it. And do I not know that if amputated the gangrene is in my whole body and I must die; no, Madam, no."
Despite this, I then told him as calmly as I could that I had been accustomed to the administration of chloroform to my invalid husband for years, and that I would promise him on the honor of a true friend that they should not use the knife without his knowledge and his consent; that I would pledge my life on my promise, and thereby perhaps save him to his wife and children; so after many words of earnest entreaty he began a reluctant consent, and a time of it we had in the administration. It required three men to hold him in bed, for in his deliriums, which were daily from fever, he was again using that sword arm, struggling to rise and shouting in French, "What a hole for men to be in --- give them hell, boys," and simmilar expressions thrilling to hear. but after many minutes, thank Heaven, the God-given anesthetic did its work well. It silenced the battle cry of the poor patriot, and while he lay in the counterfeit of death, the epaulette of flesh was raised up and the blackened gangrene thoroughly scooped from the gaping wound, which revealed the bone of the arm, as thus far for the first time the wound was properly cleaned.
A repetition of this treatment for many days and the poor patient began to give signs of recovery, and in two months he was able to take his seat in the open landeau and enjoy an evening drive. Passing the deserted camp from which Captain Vallette had been rescued, we saw many newly made mounds with headboards of plank bearing the names of the sleepers beneath, when to rally the deep depression I saw in our dear convalescent's face, I said half playfully, "We are certainly glad that the name Octave Vallette is not among them", when he seized our hands in his own, for a moment held them, while tears of unspeakable gratitude coursed down his cheeks.
Of the barrels of luscious oranges and other fruits from New Orleans to "His Friends in Georgia" or the loving greeting and heart-given kisses I received from a lovely English wife and six splendid children, when Captain Vallette brought them to the St. Louis Hotel to see me a few winters thereafter, I will not tell, but you may stake your life it was a love feast.
This Captain Vallette was one of a firm of father and son, shipbuilders in
Algiers, who owning a magnificent pontoon bridge, was offered an almost fabulous
price by the United States government, when the owners realizing that they must
sell it or it would be wrested from them by superior force, deliberately that
night scuttled and sank it in the river at its landing, thereby losing a great
sum of money. When the morning dawned there was no pontoon, to the great
discomfort of the enemy. Such was the sacrifices made by the Southern people.