HOSPITAL TRANSPORTS.
A MEMOIR
_of the_
EMBARKATION OF THE SICK AND WOUNDED
FROM THE PENINSULA OF VIRGINIA
IN THE SUMMER OF
1862.
_Compiled and Published at the request of the
Sanitary Commission._
[Illustration]
_Boston_:
TICKNOR AND FIELDS.
1863.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by
TICKNOR AND FIELDS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of
Massachusetts.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY,
CAMBRIDGE.
_DEDICATION._
TO THE MEMORIES OF
J. M. GRYMES, M. D.,
sometime Surgeon in charge of the Hospital Transport _Daniel Webster_,
and, at the time of his death, Surgeon to the temporary _Home_ for
disabled soldiers, of the Sanitary Commission at Washington;—
WILLIAM PLATT, JUNIOR, ESQ.,
late a Relief Agent of the Sanitary Commission, who died from the effect
of prolonged exposure and excessive exertion in pushing succor to the
wounded during and after the battles of South Mountain, Crampton's Gap,
and Antietam;—
Lieut.-Col. JOSEPH BRIDGHAM CURTIS, U.S.V.,
formerly of the Engineer Corps of the Central Park of New York,
afterwards of the central staff of the Sanitary Commission, who fell
while leading his regiment to the assault of the rebel works at
Fredericksburg, December, 1862;—
RUDD C. HOPKINS, M. D.,
formerly Superintendent of the Lunatic Asylum of Ohio, lately a General
Inspector of the Sanitary Commission, and who died in its service, while
on the river passage from Memphis to Cincinnati;—
MRS. FANNY SWAN WARRINER,
who bore heroically to the end a woman's part in war, having died at
Louisville, Kentucky, on her way home from the Head-quarters Relief
Station of the Sanitary Commission with the Army of the Tennessee,—of
disease there contracted;—
DAVID BOSWELL REID, M. D.,
Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh; Fellow of the Royal College of
Physicians of London; Member of the Medico-Chirurgical Society of St.
Petersburg; formerly Director of Ventilation at the Houses of Parliament
of Great Britain; late Professor of Physiology and Hygiene at the
University of Wisconsin; at the time of his death, Special Inspector of
the Ventilation of Hospitals of the Sanitary Commission;—and
Surgeon ROBERT WARE, U. S. V.,
for several years physician in charge of the largest Dispensary District
in Boston, afterwards a General Inspector of the Sanitary Commission,
and Surgeon of its Relief Stations at Yorktown, White House, and
Berkeley, lastly Surgeon of Volunteers. He fell at his post in the works
at Washington, North Carolina, during its bombardment by the rebels,
March, 1863.
INTRODUCTION.
The Sanitary Commission, grateful for the generous confidence reposed in
it by the public, would be glad to meet and justify that confidence by a
circumstantial account of its operations in field and hospital, from the
first day of its existence to the present. It might, perhaps, without
undue boasting, show such a picture of what has been accomplished as
would stimulate, to the last degree, the interest and the liberality of
loyal hearts, if this were required. But the immense mass of details
which such an account must involve, would prove nearly as laborious in
the reading as in the performance, overwhelming rather than enlightening
all who have not been personally engaged in the work. The intense
interest which the service inspires in those devoted to it, lightens
what might, under other circumstances, seem wearisome duties; but a
minute description of the ceaseless round of consultations,
examinations, correspondence, journeys, accounts, distributions,
required of the Commission as trustee of the public bounty, could not be
expected to prove interesting to others.
The most that the Commission can at present be called upon to offer, or
the public be likely to accept, is such brief accounts of single
sections in the various departments of its labor, as may indicate the
general method and spirit extending through the whole. In accordance
with this plan, from time to time, the Commission has published reports
covering a single battle-field, or a term of one round of visits to the
hospitals, or the results of its arrangements for the care of disabled
and discharged soldiers for a stated period. There is one branch of the
service, however, which has as yet had no such public record,—that of
the Hospital Transports. In order to supply this omission in some
measure, the Commission has caused to be placed in the hands of a
manager of the "Woman's Central Army Relief Association of New York," a
quantity of letters and other papers, containing observations made at
the time, and on the spot, by those in its service who assisted in the
embarkation and care of the sick and wounded on the peninsula of
Virginia in 1862. Passages from these have been selected and arranged
with a view to give within moderate compass as many particulars as may
be necessary to show the scope of the enterprise, and the position which
it held as an aid to the government, together with the difficulties and
the success, the disappointments and satisfactions, with which it was
attended. The plan is limited to the Atlantic hospital transports, and
to the period of embarkation of the patients upon them, for the sake of
compactness and completeness in the grouping of incidents. A similar
service in the Western rivers the same year was larger in its scope, and
in some of its arrangements more satisfactory, but it was at the same
time less homogeneous in character.
For the style of the letters quoted, this only need be said: they were,
for the most part, addressed to intimate friends, with no thought that
they could ever go beyond them, or, as in the case of those addressed by
the Secretary to the President of the Commission, were in the nature of
familiar and confidential reports; nearly all were written hastily, in
some chance interruption to severe labor,—often with a pencil, while
passing in a boat from one vessel to another. Passages may be found
which are not merely descriptive of the Hospital Transport service, but
they contain thoughts springing from the occasion, and which will serve
to fasten pictures of scenes and circumstances with which that service
was associated, and which are now historical.[1]
Footnote 1:
The letters were all written by two officers of the Commission and six
ladies serving with them. As the different writers are quoted from in
succession, and the same occurrences are often described from more
than one point of view, a capital letter at the head of a paragraph
will indicate the change from one writer to another. The officers will
be known by the letters A. and B.; the ladies, by the letters M. and
N.
It should be understood that the account is not intended to be complete
in any respect, and that no attempt has been made to give public credit
to individuals for their services, whatever these may have been. It is
known that to do so in some cases where public gratitude is most
deserved would give pain; to do so in all cases would greatly swell the
bulk of the volume. In general terms only it may be said, that among the
surgeons who freely gave their aid in the enterprise were numbered some
of the leading members of the profession,—among those who served as
administrative officers, matrons, and nurses, the most honored
historical families of New England, New York, New Jersey, and
Pennsylvania were represented. The class termed Ward-masters was mainly
composed of medical students of two years, with some young men of
Philadelphia who had had previous experience in caring for sick soldiers
in the noble local charities of that city. It included, also, some
students of theology. The responsibility for the detail of care of the
patients was chiefly with this class, and the devotedness, pliability,
and practical talent with which they generally met this responsibility
was too remarkable to be passed without at least this simple reference
to it as one of a class of facts of the war.
It is a secondary object of the recital to make evident, from narrations
of actual experience, what is sometimes required for supplying the
unavoidable deficiencies of government service in emergencies. Not to
have sprung at once into a thorough practical knowledge of what the
dread contingencies of war require, is no just cause of reproach to a
peaceful people like ourselves, who, meaning peace, sought only to
"ensue it"; but not to thoroughly learn our duty under such an
experience as we are passing through, would indeed bring shame upon our
name.
It is no common nation's task that we have undertaken, and only craven
souls will lose heart in finding that it cannot be light or short in the
sacrifices which it demands of us. True and far-seeing lovers of their
country, as they regard the sufferings of those uncomplaining men who
fought for us in the Peninsula,—men who, though perhaps but green
soldiers in the field, proved, one and all, heroes upon the bed of pain
and in the hour of death, will be led to the reflection, "This is what
it costs a republic to have nursed rebellion tenderly at its breast." We
know that the barbarous spirit with which the chances of war first were
dared in this gambling scheme of reckless ambition, will prolong it,
when resistance to the law can no longer avail for anything but the
gratification of the personal vindictive hate of the disappointed
conspirators. And we know that if we do well the work the pecuniary cost
of which we are throwing so heavily upon our posterity, this will be the
last of such schemes. The more we feel its cost ourselves, the more
resolute shall we be that, when done, this work shall have been done
once for all. The more ready shall we be to meet whatever sacrifice it
may yet require of us; the more ready to truly say, "Our loyalty is
without conditions; success at this point or that, this year or next, we
do not ask; we have elected our leaders, and we accept what they have
the ability to give us. It is enough that in this nation, standing
firmly upon its declaration of equal rights to all, no gleam of peace
can ever be seen to fall upon a rebel in arms."
The deepest solicitude that all unnecessary suffering should be avoided
in carrying on the war, is not in the least degree inconsistent with
this sentiment, provided only it be guided and constrained by a true
appreciation of the duties and the necessities of war. On the contrary,
patriotism and humanity have one origin, and each strengthens the other
in every heart. Whatever, then, leads the public to truly comprehend
what the rebellion costs, and at the same time inculcates a right spirit
of humane provision against the unnecessary suffering of war, must
foster a sound and healthy public sentiment.
Such, it is hoped, may be the influence of this little volume, to the
introduction of which only this further explanation will be required by
the reader.
A sudden transfer of the scene of active war from the high banks of the
Potomac to a low and swampy region, intersected with a net-work of
rivers and creeks, early in the summer of 1862, required appliances for
the proper care of the sick and wounded which did not appear to have
been contemplated in the government arrangements. Seeing this, with the
approval of the Medical Bureau, a proposal was made to the
Quartermaster-General to allow the Sanitary Commission to take in hand
some of the transport steamboats of his department, of which a large
number were at that time lying idle, to fit them up and furnish them in
all respects suitably for the reception and care of sick and wounded
men, providing surgeons and other necessary attendance, without cost to
government. After tedious delays and disappointments of various
kinds,—one fine large boat having been assigned, partially furnished by
the Commission, and then withdrawn,—an order was at length received,
authorizing the Commission to take possession of any of the government
transports, not in actual use, which might be at that time lying at
Alexandria.
The only vessel then lying at Alexandria stanch enough for the ocean
passage from Virginia to New York or Boston, proved to be the _Daniel
Webster_, an old Pacific Coast steamer of small capacity. She had been
recently used for transporting troops, and had been "stripped of
everything movable but dirt,"—so that the labor of adapting her to the
purpose in view was not a light one.
This vessel was assigned to the Commission on the 25th of April.
Provisional engagements had previously been made, in New York and
Philadelphia, with the persons afterwards employed as her hospital
company. These were telegraphed for, the moment the order was received,
and the refitting of the ship commenced,—at which point we turn to the
narratives of those engaged in the work.
HOSPITAL TRANSPORTS.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION.
INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
APPENDIX A.
APPENDIX B.
APPENDIX C.
APPENDIX D.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
CHAPTER I.
(A.) Hospital Transport _Daniel Webster_,
Cheeseman's Creek, April 30, 1862.
I received General Meigs's order under which this ship came into our
hands on Friday. She was then at Alexandria, and could not be got over
the shoals to Washington. It was not till near night that I was able to
get a lighter, and this, after one trip, was taken off to carry
reinforcements to McDowell at Fredericksburg. I succeeded before
daylight of Saturday in getting a tug at work, and by the next morning,
Sunday, had her hold full. At eleven o'clock got the hospital company on
board, but the commissaries failed in their engagements, and at last I
had to send off a foraging-party at Alexandria for beef. Finally at four
o'clock, D., who had gone after E., and E., who had gone after beef,
arrived simultaneously from different directions. With E. came the beef,
and we at once got under way.
We had six medical students, twenty men nurses (volunteers all), four
surgeons, four ladies, a dozen contrabands (field hands), three
carpenters, and half a dozen miscellaneous passengers. There were,
besides, five of us members of the Sanitary Commission and of the
central staff, with one of the Philadelphia associates, eight military
officers, ninety soldiers (convalescents, returning to their regiments),
some quartermaster's mechanics, and a short ship's crew and officers.
The ship has a house aft, with state-rooms for thirty, and an
old-fashioned packet-saloon below, with state-rooms opening out of it;
and all forward of the engine-rooms, a big steerage, or "'tween decks,"
which had been fitted with shelves, some of them fifteen feet deep, in
which the soldiers had been carried to the Peninsula, packed in layers.
I organized all our Commission people at sunset on Sunday, in two
watches, sea-fashion; appointed watch-officers, and have worked since,
night and day, refitting ship. We broke up all the transport
arrangements,—they were in a filthy condition,—thoroughly scraped,
washed, and scrubbed the whole ship from stem to stern, inside and out;
whitewashed the steerage; knocked away the bulkheads of the wings of the
engine-room section, so as to get a thorough draft from stem to stern;
then set to fitting and furnishing new bunks; started a new house on
deck, forward; made and fitted an apothecary's shop; and when we arrived
at Cheeseman's Creek were ready for patients.
* * * * *
(M.) It was a bright day, the river peaceful and shining. Just as we
started, the little gunboat _Yankee_ passed up, bringing, all on a
string, five rebel craft which she had just taken in the Rappahannock.
Late in the afternoon we passed the "stone fleet," eight boats, all
ready to sink in the channel, in case the _Merrimack_ should try to run
up the Potomac. The rebels having taken up all the buoys, at dark we had
to come to anchor.
Sunday, the first day, was gone. As for us, we had spent it, sitting on
deck, sewing upon a hospital flag, fifteen by eight, and singing hymns
to take the edge off of this secular occupation. Just after we had
anchored, a chaplain was discovered among the soldiers; and in half an
hour we got together for service, and an "unprepared" discourse upon
charity, much like unprepared discourses in general. Quite another thing
was the singing of the contrabands, who all came in and stood in a row
so black, at the dark end of the cabin, that I could see neither eyes
nor teeth. But they sung heartily, and everybody followed them.
* * * * *
(A.) _Cheeseman's Creek._—I went ashore to report our arrival to the
Medical Director. On our way up the harbor,—a shallow river-mouth, with
low, pine-covered banks, in which there are now about four hundred
steamboats and small transport-craft,—I hailed the steamboat _Daniel
Webster_ No. 2, which carries the —— Regiment New York Volunteers, and
let the Colonel know that his wife was among our nurses. This morning I
received his acknowledgments in the form of a check for $1,000 for the
Commission, accompanied by what was still better, a note of the most
hearty and appreciative recognition of what the Commission had done for
the relief of the soldiers.
Picking our way among all the craft, and keeping out of the way of the
tugs and tenders which were flying about, we landed on a large meadow
where were a number of wall-tents, one labelled "Office of
Quartermaster's Department"; another, "Telegraph Office"; another,
"Post-Office"; another, "Office of Land Transportation"; another,
"Harbor-Master," &c., &c. One contained a number of prisoners, brought
in the day before, and, of course, well-guarded. Ordnance and forage
barges lay along the shore, with a few big guns, and piles of shot and
shell, just landed. The ground was crowded;—orderlies holding horses;
lounging, dirty soldiers; idlers and fatigue-parties at work in relays;
sentries; Quartermaster's people, white and black; and a hundred army
wagons loading with forage and biscuit-boxes from the barges. I went at
once to Colonel Ingalls, at the Quartermaster's office. He was kind,
prompt, decisive; horses were ordered for us, and we soon rode off
through a swamp-forest, the air full of the roar of falling trees and
the shouts of teamsters and working-parties of soldiers, the former
trying to navigate their wagons, and the latter making corduroy roads
for them. The original country roads had all been used up; it was
difficult even to ford across them, when we had occasion to do so, on
horseback. The army wagons, each drawn by six mules, and with very light
loads, were jerked about frightfully. We passed many wrecks, and some
horses which had sunk and been smothered. Some wagons were loaded with
gun-beds and heavy rope screens for embrasures; and we saw eight or ten
mortars, each on a truck by itself, and drawn by from sixteen to
twenty-four horses. At the first open ground we found cavalry
exercising; then a cavalry camp, then a bit of wood, then rising dry
ground, and our road ran through more camps. Then, coming in the midst
of these camps, to the crest of a low swell, we opened suddenly a grand
view of the valley of York River, a country something like the valley of
the Raritan, at Eagleswood and opposite, but with less wood, more piny
and more diversified, the river much broader, a mile and a half,
perhaps, across. On the slope before us—nearly flat, with an inclination
toward the river—was a space of several hundred acres, clear land, and a
camp for some twenty to forty thousand men; shelter-tents, and all
alive. It was a magnificent scene, the camp and all beyond, as we came
upon it suddenly—right into it, at full gallop. The military "effect"
was heightened now and then by a crashing report of artillery.
In the midst of the camp we came upon a long rack,—a pole on crotched
sticks,—at which were fastened a score or more of horses. "We must stop
here," said Dr. C. "They don't let you ride in." And that was all to
show that we had reached Head-quarters.
It was an aristocratic quarter of the town, when you came to look at the
clean tents and turf, but there were no flags or signs to distinguish
it. We walked to the tent of the Medical Director, and just then there
came another of those crashing reports. "They have been keeping that up
all night," said the Doctor. "That isn't the enemy?" "Yes." "Is he so
near?" "O yes! we are quite within range here."
The medical arrangements seem to be deplorably insufficient. The
Commission is at this time actually distributing daily of hospital
supplies much more than the government.[2]
Footnote 2:
See Appendix A.
* * * * *
(B.) _May 1st._ No patients on board yet; ship getting a final polish.
Got up early and found the _Elizabeth_ coming along-side for stores. The
Commission has here at present, besides the _Daniel Webster_, one or two
store-ships, and the _Wilson Small_, a boat of light draught, fitted up
as a little hospital, to run up creeks and bring down sick and wounded
to the transports. She is under the care of Dr. C., and has her little
supply of hospital clothing, beds, food, &c., always ready for chance
service. There is also a well-supplied storehouse ashore.
In sight are the abandoned rebel quarters at Shipping Point, now used as
hospitals by one of our divisions; a number of log-huts finely built,
but on low and filthy ground, surrounded by earthworks, which are rained
on half the time and fiercely shone on the other half, and from which
are exhaling deadly vapors all the time, a death-place for scores of our
men who are piled in there, covered with vermin, dying with their
uniforms on and collars up,—dying of fever....
I attended this afternoon to the systematic arrangement of the
commissariat stores down aft, sent a telegram for more supplies to
Baltimore, arranged for stowing the contrabands and putting bunks in the
new deck-ward, and then put two ladies and a nice supply of oranges,
tea, lemons, wine, &c., &c. on a small boat, and started them with —— to
Ship Point Hospital, where four poor fellows died last night. Of course
there is that vitally important medical etiquette to observe, here as
elsewhere, and we must approach carefully, when we would not frustrate
our own plans;—and so it is. "——, suppose you go ashore and ask whether
it will be agreeable to have the ladies come over and visit the
hospital,—just to walk through and talk with the men." So the ladies
have gone "to talk with the men," with spirit-lamps, and farina, and
lemons, and brandy, and clean clothes, and expect to have an improving
conversation. After the party was off, sent orders to Fort Monroe for
special supplies; received Dr. Tripler, who dined with us; furnished
wine, tea, bread, to a surgeon who had been told that the Commission's
flag was flying here, and had come seven miles across the swamps, and
rowed out to us in a small boat to try for these things.
* * * * *
(M.) By dark the _Wilson Small_ came along-side with our first patients,
thirty-five in number, who were carefully lifted on board and swung
through the hatches on their stretchers. In half an hour they had all
been tea'd and coffeed and refreshed by the nurses, and shortly after
were all undressed and put to bed clean and comfortable, and in a droll
state of grateful wonder; the bad cases of fever furnished with sponges
and cologne-water for bathing, and wine and water or brandy-toddy for
drinking, and a man to watch them, and ward-masters up and down the
wards, and a young doctor in the apothecary's shop, and to-day (May 3d)
they are all better....
Meantime additional supplies arrived from Washington, Baltimore, and
Fortress Monroe, and a surgeon and nurses of our company were busy daily
on shore at the Ship Point Hospital, dispensing stores, and doing what
they could for the poor fellows there, who seemed to us in want of
everything.... One hundred and ninety patients have now come on board;
eighteen miles some of them say they have been brought in the ambulances
(large statement of exhausted fellows jolted over corduroy roads).... We
ladies arrange our days into three watches, and then a promiscuous one
for any of us, as the night work may demand, after eight o'clock. Take
Sunday, for instance.
It was ——'s and ——'s watch from seven to twelve. So they were up and had
hot breakfast ready in our pantry, which is amidships between the
forward and aft wards; ward-masters on the port and starboard sides for
each ward, to watch the distribution of the food, and no promiscuous
rushing about allowed; the number for coffee and the number for tea
marked in the ward diet-books under the head of Breakfast, and the
number for house-diet, or for beef-tea and toddy, &c., marked also; so
that when the Hospital company learns to count straight,—an achievement
of some difficulty, apparently,—there will be no opportunity for
confusion. After breakfast we all assembled in the forward or sickest
ward, and Dr. G. read the simple prayers for those at sea and for the
sick. Our whole company and all the patients were together. It was good
to have the service then and there. Our poor sick fellows lay all about
us in their beds and listened quietly. As the prayer for the dying was
finished, a soldier close by the Doctor had ended his strife.
After twelve, our watch came on, and till four we gave out clean
clothes, handkerchiefs, cologne, clothes to the nurses, and served the
dinner, consulting the diet-books again. The house-diet, which was all
distributed from our pantry, was nice thick soup and rice-pudding, and
we made, over our spirit-lamps, the beef-tea and gruels for special
cases. So with little cares came four o'clock, and with it clean hands
and our own dinner; after which the other two ladies came on for the
last watch, which included tea. Then there was beef-tea and punch to be
made for use during the night; and so the day for us ended with our
sitting in the pantry and talking over evils to be remedied, and should
the soiled clothes be sewed up in canvas-bags and trailed behind the
ship, or hung at the stern, or headed up in barrels and steam-washed
when the ship got in? We crawled up into our bunks that night amid a
tremendous firing of big guns, and woke up in the morning to the
announcement that Yorktown was evacuated.
* * * * *
(M.) While we were lying anchored off Ship Point, down in the Gulf, New
Orleans had surrendered quietly, and round the corner from us Fort Macon
had been taken. What was it all to us, so long as the beef-tea was ready
at the right moment?