Puzzle Me This

A few months ago, my mother came to visit me in New York City and she brought a bag with a few old things she thought might interest me.  Several days passed before I gave the bag a second look.  But, one night, feeling bored and a little curious, I discovered this among other things:

Thanks to the Civil War letters, I was familiar with Edward McCleary, so it seemed likely that Samuel McCleary was a relation (and a second look at the letters showed that Samuel was Edward's father).  As it was bound by string, it seemed something must have been inside of it.  But what?  It is only about 1/4 or 1/2 an inch wide and made of wood.  I looked to the back of it to see if it gave any clues, and this is what it looked like:



A Table of Explanations, Showing Distances Between Major Cities in New York State


Moving it, a few pieces of wood fell from it, and when I untied the string, I realized I had a puzzle on my hands.  A puzzle of New York State and all of its counties.  Since I have lived in New York for my entire life, I thought I might as well try to put the thing together and see if I had all of the pieces.  But, New York is a tricky state, with counties that are ridiculously small (and several of them were barely familiar to me).  I went to work, but the puzzle was harder than I thought.  Maybe 45 minutes or so into trying to put it together, I finally caved in and googled a map of the counties of NYS, and ultimately I got the whole thing together.  Well, almost.




I was missing Schenectady.  I wondered if the missing piece was the type of thing I could find on ebay, so I turned to the computer to do a little investigating and I found out that there does not appear to be another puzzle exactly like the one I have.  You see, Samuel McCleary was actually one of the first jigsaw puzzle makers in the United States.  What I had before me appeared to be his prototype.  Samuel McCleary partnered with John Pierce to create McCleary & Pierce, and they patented in 1849 a special diecast method of cutting jigsaw puzzle pieces.  The puzzle was created in 1850, winning the acclaim of esteemed educator Emma Willard, as well as the Governor of New York State.



The Puzzle Was Recommended by Many Influential Persons

 The only other copy of this puzzle I have been able to find online has a different cover than mine, and the puzzle pieces are different colors.  (To see the collector's copy, click here)  As for the cover, rather than advertising that all inquiries about the puzzle were to be made to Samuel McCleary (like my copy), the cover of the collector's copy reads: "Dissecting Map of the State of New York."  So, as far as I can tell, the copy of the puzzle that I have is most likely the first one made.  Pretty amazing.



Schenectady, the Missing Piece

But, what about the missing piece?  After my time-consuming attempt to put the puzzle together, plus my time researching what it was and its significance, it was past 11pm, and so I decided NOT to call my mother to ask if she had any idea where Schenectady (the puzzle piece) might be.  I told my husband that we could not vacuum or otherwise clean our floors until Schenectady was found.  We may have crept around the floor (on more than one occasion) to be sure that the missing piece--no bigger than a pea--had not fallen out of the bag that my mother had carried it in.  We searched everywhere, but, alas, Schenectady was not to be found in our apartment.

The next day, waiting until the civilized hour of 7am, I called my mother, frantic, asking whether she could check to see if Schenectady had somehow been left where she had found the rest of the puzzle, or if she could otherwise search everywhere for the missing piece.  Unfortunately, it was too late.  She said that she had vacuumed the closet where she had found the puzzle, and she didn't know where else the piece would be (note: cleanliness can be overrated, especially when looking for very small things).  I was crushed.  As a lover of history, holding in my hands something so old and significant as perhaps the first jigsaw puzzle made in the United States, I felt that the whole puzzle needed to be preserved.  Including Schenectady.

I told my mother all about the history of the puzzle, and she was very excited and promised to be on the lookout for an orange triangular piece of wood, but the search seemed futile. 

About one and one-half months later, on my mother's birthday no less, she called my cell phone and left a message (I was at work).  I figured she had called to thank me for the card I had sent, but when I listened to her voicemail, I could hardly believe what she had said.  She had found Schenectady!  When she first found the puzzle, it had been inside of a cardboard box.  By the time she gave it to me, she had no idea what had come of that box.  But, on that fateful birthday morning, she was putting a few things in a box to give to my sister when she caught a glimmer of a little orange piece of wood on the bottom!  Schenectady!  The puzzle would be complete!  And this amazing piece of history will soon be intact (considering what we have been through searching for it, with the vacuuming moratoriums and countless phone calls pining away over a 1/4 inch piece of wood, it's not like she could just mail it to me--this is the type of thing that can only be delivered in person).

I am planning to visit my parents sometime this month, and when I do, my mother has promised to hand over one of the smallest counties in New York State (thanks to the puzzle, I know such NYS county trivia) so the whole puzzle can be together again.  So, for now, I leave you with a final picture of the incomplete puzzle.  The gaping whole is, of course, Schenectady.

If you'd like to see more pictures, which can be made much larger, please visit my website by clicking here.


(I found that there are actually t-shirts for sale with a picture of Samuel McCleary's & John Pierce's Dissecting Map of the State of New York.  My mother received a belated birthday present of this t-shirt--after all, we were basically obsessed with finding the missing piece for over a month and sort of bonded with the puzzle in the process.  The t-shirt is available here).

The Bullet After the Battlefield

This is the final installment of my four-part series on Edward McCleary's Civil War experience.  If you need to catch-up on the story, part one is here, part two is here, and part three is here.

[Edward McCleary, First Lieutenant, Seventh Regiment, Union Army]

After McCleary was mustered out of the Union Army, he returned home--to upstate New York, to a small town called Watervliet Centre (now Colonie).  While his life carried on as many do-- he married, had children, cared for his aging parents, and worked to support his family-- the Civil War continued to play a role in his life.  The friendships he made in his Regiment and on the battlefields did not dissolve with the Army--though distance may have separated them, their shared sacrifice bonded them for life. 

Piecing together what happened to McCleary after 1865 is difficult.  He was no longer writing letters to his home explaining what was happening to him and how he felt.  However, he attended the 20-year reunion for his Regiment--the New York State Volunteer Heavy Artillery, Seventh Regiment, where he received the honorary medal below.  This reunion was held in 1885.

Amazingly, despite all he had gone through, McCleary lived into the next century (it's amazing since he was probably in his early 20s when he fought in the 1860s, and considering he was shot in three places, left for dead in a field where he laid wounded for over 24 hours, and received medical care that was likely inadequate--that he lived well into his 70s is incredible).  Thanks to a series of letters that were preserved from the 1890s and 1900s, it is possible to formulate an idea of what McCleary's life was like during his later years.

In July 1895, McCleary wrote a long letter to an old friend of his.  He noted that his father lived with him for nine months out of the year and there was "no need to inquire about his health he is past-88 and a Dynamite Bomb would take no effect on him."  He also noted that he had "two girls married nearby each one has a little granddaughter for me to buy Christmas presents for.  My third girl taught school last winter--about 3 miles from home--so you know I have got to be one of the old fellows now.  And to tell the truth I am about done up-- the Malaria and Grip together have flattened me out so completely that I am of no earthly use except as an ornament."

McClearly recovered fully from his health problems, and the next remarkable episode in his life involved a nagging pain he noticed around 1901 that caused great discomfort in his thigh.  He went to a doctor who recommended that x-rays be taken.  The x-rays revealed that a bullet remained in McCleary's body--38 years after he was originally shot.  Apparently, the doctors at Libby Prison had believed that the bullet that had entered McCleary's thigh had somehow traveled through his body and exited it.  However, the x-rays taken in 1902 proved otherwise.

McCleary's wife was away when a surgery was scheduled to remove the bullet.  Around the time of his surgery, one of his old Civil War buddies--Jacob Wiggins--died, and McCleary wrote to his wife that Wiggins had specifically chosen "4 old soldiers" to be his pall bearers before he passed on.  When McCleary arrived at his home after Wiggins's funeral, an old war friend of McCleary's--whose nickname was "Mali"--had showed up on McCleary's doorstep and he volunteered to go with McCleary to the hospital for his surgery.  McCleary told his wife that Mali "wants to go down and see the bullet cut out and see it by the x-rays," and would "nurse me up" afterwards.  McCleary added: "wish you were here to go with him."  (One theme apparent from all of the letters written to McCleary's wife is that he loved her dearly.  In fact, in one letter sent to her he noted "we thought we loved in 1863--we know more than love in 1900.").

The removal of the bullet from McCleary's body was important enough to make it into the newspaper.  (The hospital where the bullet was removed happens to be the same hospital where I was born.)  Here's the article telling the story:

The final artifact that I have of Edward McCleary's is the old bullet itself.  He had cut-out the story of its removal from the newspaper, wrapped the bullet with the newspaper excerpt, and put both into a small felt bag:

I will be thinking of Edward McCleary today.  I sincerely wish I could have met him, as I admire the sacrifice he made for the country and have grown so fond of him by reading his letters.  I have always loved studying the Civil War, and it has meant a great deal to me to discover that not only did I have a relative who fought on the side of the Union, but he volunteered to do so and even remained in the Army after he was gravely wounded and captured as a POW.  In honor of the men in his Regiment who were not lucky enough to have lived through the War, I am ending this post with a photo of the Memorial (located in Central Park in NYC) to those who served the Union in McCleary's Regiment--the Seventh--and lost their lives:

Captured, Hospitalized, and Stuck in Rebel Hands

Thanks for coming back to read the third installment in the story of one of my ancestor's experiences fighting in the Civil War.  If you are just joining in and want to read the first and second installments, the first is here; the second here.

We left off with Edward McCleary informing his parents that, despite being shot in his thigh, leg, and abdomen, and spending over twenty-four hours lying wounded in a field before he was captured as a POW, he was healing nicely and he expected a full recovery.  He was still housed in the notorious Libby Prison, where as many as 50 men died each day because of the poor conditions.  For McCleary, he mentioned that he went to sleep hungry many nights, but he did not otherwise hint at how awful his experience probably was.

After being captured by the Confederates on June 3, 1854, McCleary remained a prisoner at Libby until sometime around November 18, 1864, for in a letter bearing that date addressed to his sister, McCleary explains that he was transferred out of Libby, though he had not yet been "exchanged" and returned to his Regiment.

McCleary was moved to the U.S. General Hospital in Annapolis, Maryland, and when he wrote to his sister, he secured stationary that had a picture of the place he was staying, even placing a dot of ink on the building (the dot is in blue ink--do you see it?) that had become his temporary residence.

Just in case the ink dot is too hard to spot--here's another copy of the photo with McCleary's lodging highlighted:

McCleary provided a detailed description of his life in this hospital, so I will just let him do the talking:

... it is a perfect little Eden here the buildings you see are all Hospitals and I should judge they occupied about fifteen acres of ground all laid out with walks and shade trees.  We have a fine view down the Chesapeake Bay and plenty of white sails can be seen of all kinds of craft.  There is a lively band kept here which [plays] the sweetest music.  Each room contains four neat little beds, also a good coal fire which burns night and day.  Capt. Marsh occupies the room with me.  He is an old Vet and was with me in Libby.  I am not yet Exchanged and don't know when I shall be....

We have an Officer in the next room who is crazy.  He is Adjutant of the 11th Va.... and was with me in Libby.  He was badly wounded in the shoulder with a piece of shell and appeared to be a real intelligent and good-hearted man.  After he was paroled and sent here he learned that his Lady Love had proved false and married another man.  He is quite rational on other subjects but when he talks about that the poor fellow can't contain himself.  He has been religiously inclined and takes me in to all his private councils.  I would like to have you try an experiment just for the novelty and for his good also.  Write him a nice letter saying you learned his address through a friend and expressing your sympathy for him as one of our Country's brave defenders who had been suffering from wounds and imprisonment in behalf of our Nation's honor.  It might divert his mind and make him a man once more.

-------------------------------------------------

I don't know if McCleary's sister complied with McCleary's request to send a letter to his suffering friend, but it seems that McCleary--as is apparent from many of his letters--was always concerned about the well-being of the people around him and his family.

A few weeks later, McCleary was transferred again, this time to Camp Parole.  His spirits remained high, as this letter to his mother shows:

Camp Parole near Annapolis, MD
Dec. 4th, 1864

Dear Mother,

This is just such a Sunday morning as I could enjoy if I were at home.  The sun shines in through my window warm and bright and all the men in Camp are looking happy for they are just receiving 30 days furlough to visit their friends after being prisoners from 4 to 20 months....

I am getting along fine, enough to eat and enough to mess.  There is a rumor that we are exchanged but I don't believe it.  I was Officer of the Day yesterday and have command now of one Co. numbering 133 men.  They will all go home this week.

My Love to All and Write Soon,
EG McCleary

--------------------------------------

Chances are, rumors of exchange were common and so, although many of the men being housed with McCleary were being "exchanged"--which refers, I believe, to the Confederacy agreeing to release X number of Union POWS in exchange for release of X number of Confederate POWs by the Union--McCleary did not seem hopeful that his turn would some come.

But it did.  Less than two weeks after he sent this last letter home, Special Order No. 3112 was issued by the Quartermaster General's Office.  A copy of this document is below.

It reads (to the best I can decipher):

Pursuant to instructions Received from the War Department ... dated Washington D.C. Dec. 6th, 1864--the following named Officer, having been declared exchanged will immediately join their Respective Commands for duty.

2 Lieut. E McCleary, 7th NYV. Arty--
The Quarter Masters Department will furnish the necessary transportation

By Order of
Col. A. R. Root

--------------------------------------------------------------------
It's kind of interesting that all it took was this one handwritten letter to execute McCleary's release (I can only imagine what it would take today to negotiate the release of prisoners of war), but McCleary followed orders and  proceeded straight to his Regiment--not his home.  It's unclear if he received a furlough so he could visit his parents and sister, but he continued to serve in the Union Army through 1865.  He was even sent back to the front lines.  In fact, the letters that I have suggest his spirits were a little lower after he was released from Confederate hands, since he was once again on the move and he didn't receive mail from his family very regularly.  For example, a March 1865 letter to his sister began:

Fort McHenry, MD  March 22, 1865

Dear Sister,
It is rather discouraging to write home as I have not heard a word from any of you since I left the front.  We have moved so often since then the letters are lost.  I think you can direct to this place for we shall not move far from here....

This is an old and very strong Fort.  There are a great many prisoners confined here, both Rebels and Bounty Jumpers.  The Provost Marshall wants me for an assistant in his Office, but as I am the only Officer in the Company, I don't feel like leaving them alone.  It is but 12 hours ride from there to here and you can take that trip we were planning out last Spring when the weather gets a little warmer.

In haste,
EG McCleary

-----------------------------------------

McCleary's reference to his sister coming to visit is not unique--the public would sometimes picnic from vistas near the frontlines so they could watch the Civil War battles.  It doesn't seem that McCleary's sister would do just that, but if she made a trip, she would likely stay at a nearby inn and the two would spend time together when McCleary was off duty.

On April 12, 1865--two days before the Confederacy surrendered--McClearly wrote his mother for the last time as an enlisted officer.

Fort McHenry, Md. April 12th 1865

Dear Mother,

I have received one letter from you since I left the front....  We are quite sure of staying here the rest of our time I am going to be relieved from the Command of my Company tomorrow.  As I have been detailed in the Office as Asst Provost Marshall.  I will have charge of all the Rebel Prisoners at this Post, which number sometimes 1000.  Things have changed since last summer....

My pants are worn out as I do not want to buy any more as my time is so near out.  I am on Guard today so excuse me for not writing more.

Yours,
EG McCleary

------------------------------------------------------------

He made it.  McClearly survived the Civil War, even though he had been shot three times, captured as a POW, and lived in the Libby Prison for months.  Now, he faced the battle of adjusting back to civilian life--would he get married?  Would he live a long life?  Were his wounds healed as well as he said they were?  The final installment will answer these questions and provide a glimpse of McCleary's personal life and how he spent the remainder of his life.

Shot and Left for Dead

I left off on my last post with Edward McCleary's parents desperately waiting to hear from their son.  The last letter they received included a hurried goodbye as he was off to the front lines.  (click here to read the last post if you haven't already).

After waiting for more than one month to receive news, McCleary's parents received the following letter from McLellan (a fellow lieutenant in McCleary's Regiment):

Camp Near Petersburgh, VA
July 10th 1864

Mr. McCleary
Dear Sir--

I received a letter from my brother last evening there was a note enclosed from you inquiring about your son, E.G. McCleary. 

On the morning of the third of June at Cold Harbor, V.A., he was missing on the charge of Gaines Hill--I inquired but could trace no tidings of him.  On the 8th of June, Capt. K.E. Jones and myself went over the battlefield and tried to find him but saw no person to answer his description or rank.  On picking up a paper last evening, I saw his name among a list of Officers now prisoners at Libby.  You will observe by reading it over that he is badly wounded in three places and is in Libby Prison Hospital.  Give my respects to all his folks.

Yours Respectfully,
Charles McLellan, Lieut.
7th NYV Artillery


Enclosed along with this letter was a newspaper clipping showing the following:

Libby Prison, located in Richmond, Virginia, was perhaps the most notorious POW camp of the South.  Known for rampant disease, inadequate food, and a high mortality rate, it was the last place an injured soldier would want to go.  According to the New York Times, "the average mortality rate is near 40 per day," and was estimated to rise to as high as "50 per day, or 1,500 monthly."  The increase in deaths was attributed to "insufficient food, clothing and shelter, combined with that depression of spirits brought on so often by long confinement." 

McCleary somehow got access to Libby Prison stationary--as you can see, the poem printed on the front of it was as disheartening as possible.  McCleary did not use this stationary until he could adequately assure his family that he would survive.

Thus, the news that their son was taken to Libby Prison was bittersweet.  At least he was alive--but would he remain so for long?

As it turns out, McClearly wrote a letter to his parents on June 10, 1864, but he never mailed it to them, perhaps because of his condition or he was not permitted to do so.  The letter was eventually published in a newspaper, it read (for the full version, read the article for yourself below):

Dear Parents--
I take the earliest opportunity to write and inform you of my whereabouts, and let you know that I am still alive, and that is saying all; for I am stretched out on my back and liable to remain so for a few months.  I was wounded on the 3rd of June at a place called Gain's Mills.  We charged on the enemy's breast works at four in the morning, when I was laid out by a musket ball passing through my thigh.  I lay on the field where I fell for fifteen hours.  About three o'clock in the afternoon I got another shot in the knee and just after dark I got an ugly one right in the abdomen; the ball laid in there till the next morning.  About nine o'clock the Rebs. came over and gathered about a dozen of us wounded and sent us to the hospital.  The next day we were all sent to Richmond....  I am in hopes that I may be paroled or exchanged before next winter....  I shall know what a home is and appreciate it better than I ever did before.  My wounds are very severe, but not mortal.  If I can keep them clean through the warm weather I will be all right.  I keep them constantly wet.  They are beginning to run and smell bad....  I am nearly naked at present, but I guess I can tough it through.  I must close now.  Hoping to hear from you soon, I remain, your affectionate son, Edward G. McCleary.

[the June 10, 1864 letter printed in a newspaper]

----

Instead of sending the rather bleak letter above, McCleary sent his parents the following one, dated June 23, 1864:

Dear Father, Mother, and Sister
I am under the necessity of writing kind of a family letter for the reason that writing materials are very scarce....  I have been boarding here at the Libby jail three weeks.  It is a great institution--everything is free, gratis, for nothing, no board or doctor's bills to pay, and notwithstanding all of these advantages, I would much rather stay a week than a month.  It is rather tedious for me to lay here on my back week after week with no friend near to keep my spirits up.  Still I have got a great deal to be thankful for.  My wounds are doing well and I think in the course of a couple of months more I will be as good as ever.  I think as soon as this Campaign is ended there will be a General Exchange of Prisoners.  If this is the case I shall be able to come home again for twenty or thirty days before I join my Regmt.  The Regmt. may be sent back to their old quarters this Fall.  I hope they will be. . . . 

I intend to get out of the service when this old Regmt. is mustered out or sooner and if I am ever fortunate enough to get back to that happy home once more I think I can content myself the rest of my life in making a place comfortable for you and mother in your age.  My thoughts are constantly with you and it lightens many many a long hour to think of times past and many happy days in store for us all. . . .  I will close looking ahead for brighter days when peace shall reign over our once happy land and wars will be no more.

Yours affectionately,
Lieut. E.G. McCleary

-----

The mail of a POW was not always reliably sent.  Thus, when, by the end of July, McCleary had not heard from his parents or sister, he wrote another letter to them.  As you can see, his June 10th letter lacked much humor, while his June 23rd letter showed that his spirits were beginning to revive themselves (especially with the bit about how great it was to have free board and medical consultations).  By the time he wrote his July 27, 1864 letter, McCleary was more firmly back to his humorous antics.  As you can see from the heading of the letter I excerpt below, rather than present his situation as being detained in Libby Prison, he jocularly referred to his place of confinement as the "Hotel De Libby" (McCleary's father had a habit of underlining all misspelled words in his son's letters, and I think the little pencil hand pointing at McCleary's joke was likely written by his father--not so sure he approved of the jest).

July 27, 1864

Hotel De Libby

Dear Parents,

I know not [whether] you have received my previous letters as I have not heard from you since I came here.  But, as there is a Flag of Truce boat running up now nearly every week you will be quite [sure] to get this and have an opportunity to answer it.

It will be eight weeks tomorrow since I was captured and I know how much anxiety you must have felt for me.  It was reported in the Regmt. that I fell dead in the enemys Rifle Pitts when we made that bloody charge on the third of June.  It was at Cold Harbor near Gains Mills.  The wounds in my abdomen and thigh are entirely healed up.  I walk around some on one crutch as I can not bear much weight on my right leg as the knee is still a little stiff and sore.  We are in very good quarters all I have to complain of is the grub.  The rations are very short and I have experienced many a hungry day since I saw you last, but I care nothing about that.  My anxiety is about you I have been afraid you had taken the news of my death to heart and would pine over it.  But keep up your hopes I am coming out all right and if we get exchanged soon which we expect to, I will try and come home before I join my Regmt...

-----------

I am going to leave off with my story at this point.  McCleary was healing nicely, but still a POW.  Whether he would ever make it back home to see his parents or when he would be released as part of an exchange deal between the Union and Confederacy were questions that surely weighed heavily on the minds of McCleary and his family. 

In my next post, I will tell just what became of McCleary.

This Week on the Blog--A Tribute to a Civil War Veteran

[7th Regiment Memorial, Central Park West

Dedicated to the 58 Men in the Regiment Who Died Fighting for the Union in the Civil War]

First off, thanks to everyone who left supportive comments and liked my status update about my book appearing on my publisher's website.  The process of getting published has been a really long journey.  But, I still get excited when it feels like I have passed another milestone towards it actually being in print.  Seeing it on my publisher's website, with an image of the cover and a description of its contents had me pretty much jumping for joy.

I'd like to do something special this week on the blog.  As Memorial Day weekend is approaching, I thought it might be interesting to write about an ancestor of mine who was a Civil War veteran.  The timing is especially fitting since Memorial Day was actually established after the Civil War to commemorate all who had lost their lives.  Therefore, this week, I'd like to dedicate my blog posts to telling the remarkable story of my ancestor, Edward McCleary, who volunteered as a Union soldier in the Seventh Volunteer Regiment, which originated in New York City, and remained an enlisted solider through 1865.  Thanks to an old wooden box that stored about two dozen letters that he had written from the front lines, along with a photo, a veteran's medal, old newspaper clippings, and a bullet (yes, a bullet), I have pieced together his extraordinary experience as a Union soldier.

So, whether you're into Civil War history or you appreciate a good story, the one I will be telling this week is filled with drama, suspense, and humor.  It will take you on an unbelievable journey if I do say so myself.

The Story Behind a World War II Army Air Force Scarf

One benefit of being the only person in my family who has any inclination to study history is that when my parents find old things in their home (thankfully, they are in the midst of spring cleaning), I am the first person they think of when they want to get rid of things (which may someday become problematic, as I live in Manhattan, where apartments are small and storage is smaller).  Recently, my mother found this old scarf, with the words "Army Air Force" embroidered onto it, along with a star with yellow wings.

My initial guess was that the scarf probably belonged to my uncle--he was in the army air force during World War II--in fact, here's a photo of his Certificate of Meritorious Service: 

It initially seemed this scarf was not shrouded in mystery.  But, what use did this scarf have for an air force serviceman?  Would he wear it around the base?  It's too big to be tucked comfortably in a breast pocket.  It feels silky (and is huge--it's about 29 inches by 32 inches), so probably not a handkerchief.  Hmmmm.

After looking around the internet for clues, I discovered that my instincts were a bit off.  The scarf, which was made by the Beau Brummell Company, was intended for a serviceman's wife or girlfriend.  As her sweetheart was off fighting or training, she could proudly wear her scarf as a sign of support and patriotism.  The scarf came with suggestions on how to wear it--as a sash, a "demure hood tied under the chin," a cowl collar with the insignia in front, tied in "cap fashion," or "peasantwise" with the insignia in the back.

Although I am not interested in wearing it, if I were, my legal side would be concerned about ending up on the wrong side of the Stolen Valor Act of 2005.  This law generally prohibits an unauthorized person from wearing military medals or decorations.  Specifically, it provides that "[w]hoever knowingly wears . . . any decoration or medal authorized by Congress for the armed forces of the United States, or any of the service medals or badges, . . . or the ribbon, button, or rosette of any such badge, decoration or medal, or any colorable imitation thereof, except when authorized under regulations made pursuant to law, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than six months, or both."  See 18 U.S.C. section 704.  Is this a regulation scarf?  I have no idea.  Besides, the real enjoyment this scarf provides me is envisioning my aunt wearing this scarf seventy years ago (and I am rather sure she did, since the scarf is tattered and has a few small holes), as my uncle was off fighting in World War II.