Nurse and Spy in the Union Army. Edmonds Sarah Emma Evelyn

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СКАЧАТЬ I cannot read without weeping. It is from Willie’s Mother. The following are a few extracts: “Oh, can it be that my Willie will return to me no more? Shall I never see my darling boy again, until I see him clothed in the righteousness of Christ – thank God I shall see him then – I shall see him then.”

      Now with all the mother’s heart

      Torn and quivering with the smart,

      I yield him, ’neath the chastening rod,

      To my country and my God.

      “Oh, how I want to kiss those hands that closed my darling’s eyes, and those lips which spoke words of comfort to him in a dying hour. The love and prayers of a bereaved mother will follow you all through the journey of life.” Yes, he is gone to return to her no more on earth, but her loss is his eternal gain.

      Servant of God well done!

      Rest from thy loved employ;

      The battle fought, the victory won,

      Enter thy Master’s joy.

      He at least had won a victory – notwithstanding the defeat of the federal army. Yes, a glorious victory.

      CHAPTER IV

      WASHINGTON AFTER BULL RUN – DEMORALIZATION OF THE ARMY – SICK SOLDIERS – HOSPITAL SCENES – EXTRACTS FROM MY JOURNAL – SYMPATHY OF SOLDIERS – FISHING FOR THE SICK – A FISH-LOVING DUTCHMAN – REORGANIZATION OF THE ARMY – A VISIT TO THE PICKETS – PICKET DUTIES AND DANGERS – THE ARMY INACTIVE – MCCLELLAN’S ADDRESS – MARCHING ORDERS AGAIN – EMBARKATION OF THE ARMY FOR FORTRESS MONROE – THE CROWDED TRANSPORTS – DESCRIPTIONS OF THE MONITOR – HER BUILD AND ARMAMENT – HER TURRET AND ENGINES.

      Washington at that time presented a picture strikingly illustrative of military life in its most depressing form. To use the words of Captain Noyes – “There were stragglers sneaking along through the mud inquiring for their regiments, wanderers driven in by the pickets, some with guns and some without, while every one you met had a sleepy, downcast appearance, and looked as if he would like to hide his head from all the world.” Every bar-room and groggery seemed filled to overflowing with officers and men, and military discipline was nearly, or quite, forgotten for a time in the army of the Potomac. While Washington was in this chaotic condition, the rebel flag was floating over Munson’s Hill, in plain sight of the Federal Capital.

      When General McClellan took command of the army of the Potomac, he found it in a most lamentable condition, and the task of reorganizing and disciplining such a mass of demoralized men was a Herculean one. However, he proved himself equal to the task, and I think, that even his enemies are willing to admit, that there is no parallel case in history where there has been more tact, energy and skill displayed in transforming a disorganized mob into an efficient and effective army; in fact, of bringing order out of confusion.

      The hospitals in Washington, Alexandria and Georgetown were crowded with wounded, sick, discouraged soldiers. That extraordinary march from Bull Run, through rain, mud, and chagrin, did more toward filling the hospitals than did the battle itself. I found Mrs. B. in a hospital, suffering from typhoid fever, while Chaplain B. was looking after the temporal and spiritual wants of the men with his usual energy and sympathy. He had many apologies to offer “for running away with my horse,” as he termed it. There were many familiar faces missing, and it required considerable time to ascertain the fate of my friends. Many a weary walk I had from one hospital to another to find some missing one who was reported to have been sent to such and such a hospital; but after reading the register from top to bottom I would find no such name there. Perhaps on my way out, in passing the open door of one of the wards, who should I see, laid upon a cot, but the very object of my search, and upon returning to the office to inform the steward of the fact, I would find that it was a slight mistake; in registering the name; instead of being Josiah Phelps, it was Joseph Philips; only a slight mistake, but such mistakes cause a great deal of trouble sometimes.

      Measels, dysentery and typhoid fever were the prevailing diseases after the retreat. After spending several days in visiting the different hospitals, looking after personal friends, and writing letters for the soldiers who were not able to write for themselves, I was regularly installed in one of the general hospitals. I will here insert an extract from my journal: “Aug. 3d, 1861. Georgetown, D. C. Have been on duty all day. John C. is perfectly wild with delirium, and keeps shouting at the top of his voice some military command, or, when vivid recollections of the battle-field come to his mind, he enacts a pantomime of the terrible strife – he goes through the whole manual of arms as correctly as if he were in the ranks; and as he, in imagination, loads and fires in quick succession, the flashing of his dying eye and the nervous vigor of his trembling hands give fearful interest to the supposed encounter with the enemy. When we tell him the enemy has retreated, he persists in pursuing; and throwing his arms wildly around him he shouts to his men – ‘Come on and fight while there is a rebel left in Virginia!’ My friend Lieut. M. is extremely weak and nervous, and the wild ravings of J. C. disturb him exceedingly. I requested Surgeon P. to have him removed to a more quiet ward, and received in reply – ‘This is the most quiet ward in the whole building.’ There are five hundred patients here who require constant attention, and not half enough nurses to take care of them.

      “Oh, what an amount of suffering I am called to witness every hour and every moment. There is no cessation, and yet it is strange that the sight of all this suffering and death does not affect me more. I am simply eyes, ears, hands and feet. It does seem as if there is a sort of stoicism granted for such occasions. There are great, strong men dying all around me, and while I write there are three being carried past the window to the dead room. This is an excellent hospital – everything is kept in good order, and the medical officers are skillful, kind and attentive.”

      The weary weeks went slowly by, while disease and death preyed upon the men, and the “Soldiers’ Cemetery” was being quickly filled with new made graves. The kindness of the soldiers toward each other is proverbial, and is manifested in various ways. It is a common thing to see soldiers stand guard night after night for sick comrades – and when off duty try, to the utmost of their skill, to prepare their food in such a way as to tempt the appetite of those poor fellows whom the surgeons “do not consider sufficiently ill to excuse from duty;” but their comrades do, and do not hesitate to perform their duty and their own also. And when brought to camp hospital, helpless, worn down by disease, and fever preying upon their vitals – those brave and faithful comrades do not forsake them, but come several times every day to inquire how they are, and if there is anything they can do for them. And it is touching to see those men, with faces bronzed and stern, tenderly bending over the dying, while the tears course down their sunburnt cheeks.

      There is scarcely a soldier’s grave where there is not to be seen some marks of this noble characteristic of the soldier – the tastefully cut sod, the planted evergreen, the carefully carved head-board, all tell of the affectionate remembrance of the loved comrade. You will scarcely find such strong and enduring friendship – such a spirit of self-sacrifice, and such noble and grateful hearts, as among the soldiers. I think this is one reason why the nurses do not feel the fatigue of hospital duty more than they do; the gratitude of the men seems to act as a stimulant, and the patient, uncomplaining faces of those suffering men almost invariably greet you with a smile. I used to think that it was a disgrace for any one, under ordinary circumstances, to be heard complaining, when those mutilated, pain-racked ones bore everything with such heroic fortitude.

      I was not in the habit of going among the patients with a long, doleful face, nor intimating by word or look that their case was a hopeless one, unless a man was actually dying, and I felt it to be my duty to tell him so. Cheerfulness was my motto, and a wonderful effect it had sometimes on the despondent, gloomy feelings of discouraged and homesick sufferers. I noticed that whenever I failed to arouse a man from such a state of feeling, it generally proved a hopeless case. They were very likely not to recover if they made up СКАЧАТЬ