I found so many more than at Harrisburg, and returned to Washington,
where the work of visiting hospitals in both that city and Alexandria
was assigned to me, as Mrs. Brainard had not yet returned from
Gettysburg, whither she was sent soon after the battles in July. My
first visit was to Alexandria. Among the many whom I found in those
hospitals was one peculiarly sad case. Near the centre of a large
ward lay one whose motionless appearance attracted my attention; I
noticed that he did not even make an effort to brush away the flies
that were crawling over his face. On going to his cot I found that
he was a complete paralytic; he could only move his head slightly
and the little finger of one hand. This severe shock of paralysis
was occasioned by striking his head against a stone while driving.
He had then been in that condition several months, with very little
perceptible change; but he was hopeful, and believed that he should
get well. Poor boy! I often thought how true in your case the saying,
“Were it not for hope, the heart would break.” During his stay at the
hospital I saw but little change for the better, and never heard from
him after he left it. I often think of the poor, pale-faced, patient,
hopeful paralytic, and wonder what has become of him.
Of the fourteen large hospitals in Washington, ten consisted of
barracks and tents, containing from twenty to thirty, and even as
many as eighty wards each. The barracks would accommodate from fifty
to sixty patients each, and the tent wards about twenty. These
buildings were not all constructed upon the same plan, but were
variously arranged. In some, the barracks extended along three sides
of a square enclosure, with head-quarters at the front; in others,
they enclosed a triangular piece of ground with head-quarters at the
apex; while in others this building was in the centre, with barracks
extending to the right and left, and tents in the rear, and thus on
for all the others--each being constructed upon a plan independent of
the rest. Within the enclosed space were the kitchen, dining-room,
chapel, and laundry, and the balance of the ground was devoted to
gardening purposes and to the cultivation of flowers. The front yards
were also beautifully laid out, containing gravel walks, evergreens,
flower-beds, and in some were cooling fountains. The barracks were
long, one-story, whitewashed buildings. In going through some of these,
it seemed like entering the home of the fairies: the long row of cots
on either side of the ward, with their clean pillow-slips and snowy
counterpanes, the walls adorned with paintings and beautiful frames
made by convalescents, while to each piece of scantling overhead were
tacked sheets of red, white, and blue tissue-paper curiously cut, each
piece representing the different corps badges. There was the new and
full moon, the plain and Maltese cross, the clover-leaf, the diamond,
the star, the acorn and the cross-sabre. The slightest breeze would
keep these silken curtains gently swaying to and fro, making the sight
really enchanting.
All hospitals were not thus highly favored with tasty wardmasters and
nurses; but in some they seemed to vie with each other in seeing whose
ward should be the most gorgeously and beautifully decorated.
The work of looking up from all these hospitals those belonging to any
particular State was no light task, yet it was done by several State
associations besides our own. Perhaps no more thorough or efficient
work of the kind was done by any State than Massachusetts. Maine did
a noble work for her soldiers, but her agents were more generally
employed in the field, where there was a greater need of laborers.
At this time, Michigan men were largely represented in the hospitals
in Washington. At Lincoln I found seventy, at Finly forty, about the
same number at Campbell, a large number at Armory square, and so for
all the hospitals in the city, besides the many at Camp Stoneman, Camp
Convalescent, and Fairfax Seminary.
Every few days accessions were made to our already large numbers by
fresh arrivals from the army, as the cavalry were almost constantly on
the skirmish-line, and engagements frequently occurring. The 13th of
the month--October--there was a brisk fight at Cattell’s Station; the
14th, at Bristow Station; the 18th, near Manassas Junction, and a few
days later at Beverly Ford; and thus the army continued to fight, and
the wounded to arrive. The sixth of the month the steward of the Ninth
Cavalry came from Culpepper with a large number of sick. He reported
the sick at that place in a very destitute and neglected condition. On
his return I sent a few things by him, only, however, what he could
take in the car with him, as I could not get transportation for even
one small box. I tried to get a pass to go down with supplies, but
orders were imperative--there was no use trying. Mrs. Gray, a lady
from Pontiac, Michigan, worked hard for weeks to obtain a pass that
she might go and see her sick husband, who was supposed to be lying at
the point of death; but all in vain. Tears and entreaties were alike
unavailing. She frequently went with me to the hospitals and assisted
in the work of distribution, thus trying to forget her own sorrow while
administering to the wants of others. Another lady, Mrs. Brockway,
came from Michigan to obtain, if possible, the body of her son, who
was killed a few days before her arrival; but she could go no further.
Through the influence of our State agent--Dr. Tunnecliff--the family
succeeded in getting an order for his body to be sent to Washington.
For her husband who was sick she obtained a furlough, and returned to
her home rejoicing while she mourned.
_October 18th._
Instead of attending church this morning, I went to Stanton Hospital
with delicacies for the sick. I will mention a few special cases of
suffering which I witnessed in one of the wards, and which will be a
fair specimen of the average of such in the other wards. There was
one poor man almost distracted with pain in his head, the effects of
a sun-stroke; the only relief he could find was in bathing his head
in cold water. Near him was one very low with typhoid fever, uttering
incoherent expressions about “battles” and “marches,” and “home” and
“mother.” A little further down the ward was a poor fellow who was
brought in last night--having been picked up by the road-side, in a
senseless condition--and has not yet returned to consciousness. His
physician says he can not survive, and, as he has no papers, or any
means by which he can be identified, another will soon be added to the
long list of the “unknown.” Soon after returning home, a Mrs. Smith,
from New Jersey, called, and requested me to return with her to the
same hospital. She had come to see her sick son; but, upon her arrival
at the hospital last evening, found that he was already dead, and was
requested by the surgeon, when she asked to see him, to wait until
this morning, as it was then late. On going to see him this morning
with the hope of following his remains to the grave, she found, to her
horror and amazement, that he was already buried. The officer who had
charge of the burying was deeply grieved that he had not been notified
of the arrival of the mother of the young man, while the doctor could
only plead forgetfulness as an excuse for not informing him. The only
consolation left her--and that a poor one--was to visit his grave. An
ambulance was ordered, and we drove out to the “Soldier’s Home.” It
was now dark; the undertaker directed us to the spot, and there, by
the aid of a lamp, that widowed mother was permitted to look upon the
newly-made grave, which contained all that remained of her only son,
upon whose breast a few hours before the cold earth had been heaped.
While I wept with this sorrowing mother, I was filled with indignation
at the outrage to which she had been compelled to submit. If that
surgeon possessed the common feelings of humanity, he would have
ordered the body disinterred, and thus have given the poor woman the
little consolation she might have obtained from gazing once more upon
the features of her darling boy; but even this sad privilege was denied
her. To-morrow she returns to her lonely home, whose light has been
forever extinguished.
* * * * *
Among the sick at Campbell Hospital, at this time, were two Michigan
soldiers, very low with typhoid fever. The father of one of these was
with him, and, after a long illness, his poor, sick boy, unexpectedly
to us all, recovered. The other, poor Warren Maxfield--the patient,
uncomplaining boy (all were boys in the army)--lingered long weeks on
the narrow space which separates the “now from the hereafter” before
he began the other life. I never think of him without recalling a
little incident that occurred a few days before his death. He wanted
a small package of green-tea, which of course was granted; “for,” he
said, “I really believe it would do me good. Not that I care to drink
so very much, but I want some to smell of, it would seem so reviving,
and would remind me of home, for we always drink green-tea at home.” I
relate this to show how all the influences and customs and associations
of home were remembered and cherished by those poor sick and dying
soldiers. It will be a consolation to his friends to know that in his
last sickness he was kindly cared for. If skilful medical treatment and
good nursing could have saved life, neither he nor any in that ward
would have died, for, according to the testimony of his patients, Dr.
True was one of the most faithful and efficient surgeons to be found in
any of our hospitals. When any under his charge were dangerously ill,
he would often visit them four and five times during a single night,
watching every symptom and noting every change, whether for better or
worse, and only relinquishing hope with the last expiring breath. Oh,
how much the world needs such humane, _Christian_ physicians!
_CHAPTER IX._
MORE TROUBLE WITH DOCTORS--DISCHARGE-PAPERS DELAYED--RECORDS
EXAMINED--THE REPORT--REMOVAL OF A SURGEON--DISCHARGE BY DEATH--A
SURGEON QUARRELS WITH ONE OF HIS PATIENTS--HIS REMOVAL--LOW STATE OF
OUR FINANCES--THOUGHTS OF DISORGANIZING--THE APPEAL FOR AID--RECEIPT
OF GOODS--A SELF-SACRIFICING MOTHER--BATTLE NEAR KELLY’S FORD.
_October 19th._
I went to Alexandria this morning to learn whether the reports
concerning the treatment of some of our boys in a certain hospital
in that city were true. Arriving at the hospital, I asked for a list
of the Michigan men who were there, obtaining which, I started to go
through the wards, when an orderly came running after me, saying: “The
doctor says you can’t go through the hospital.” This was something
new, and I began to think there was some truth in the reports. I went
directly to the doctor’s office and inquired what all this meant.
He replied, “You must have a written permit from Dr. Bently, who is
surgeon-in-charge of this division, before you can go through my
hospital.” I still insisted on going through, without waiting to see
Dr. B., whose office was nearly a mile from there. “Well, then,” he
said, “I will go and see him myself, and you can wait until I return.”
“But I can’t wait, doctor; I shall go through the wards while you are
gone,” was my reply. He hesitated a moment, and then said: “Well,
you may go through them this time. I guess it will be all right.” “I
know it will be all right, doctor,” I answered. He left the hospital,
while I made a tour of inspection through it, and, before leaving, I
was convinced that the reports in circulation were not wholly without
foundation.... Not long after this, I called to see Dr. Bently and
inquired if it were necessary for me to have a pass from him, in order
to be admitted to the hospitals in his division, and then related
the unpleasant interview with one of his surgeons. “By no means,” he
said. “And you tell the doctor for me, that you have the privilege of
visiting my hospitals as often as you wish, and at such times as best
suit your convenience. If you have any more trouble, let me know.” But
I managed to fight my own battles thereafter, without calling upon him
again, and at length gained the victory, as will be seen a few pages
hence.
A few days after, I again visited the hospital, taking with me, among
other things, two large bottles of blackberry-wine, designed for
special cases. At the door I was informed by the guard that the doctor
was not in, and that he had given him positive orders to admit no
one--not even the President of the United States--during his absence.
I did not wish the soldier to violate orders, but I did want to be
admitted. I finally obtained the desired permission from the sergeant
of the guard. I left the wine in care of one of the nurses, with
instructions to give none of it to the patients until the doctor’s
return; if it met his approbation, well. Seeing no cause for offence,
I left the hospital before his “highness” returned. But upon my next
visit I learned that the doctor, upon his return, was mad with rage,
and, seizing one of the bottles, hurled it out of the window--the other
was saved by being hidden under the sick man’s pillow for whom it was
intended--shamefully abused the guard, threatened the sergeant (which,
haply, was all he could do, there being a limit to his power), and
declared that his orders should be obeyed. He for whom the wine was
hidden took it without the doctor’s knowledge, and recovered; while
the other--poor Mr. Kinney--died a few days after. I do not know that,
in the former case, the wine hastened the sick man’s recovery, neither
do I believe that it retarded it. As to the other, I do not think it
would have saved life or hastened death; but there being so little
hope of his recovery, and he so anxious to take it, it seemed cruel and
inhuman to deny him. Let the case be as it may, with reference to those
in question, there were many instances in which blackberry-wine was the
means of saving life and restoring health.
Not long after this, I made application to this same high official
(!)--a contract surgeon, with the rank of lieutenant--for the discharge
of two soldiers, viz., Steven Benson, of the Seventh Michigan Cavalry,
and Daniel Peters, of the Sixth--the former sick with consumption, the
other with chronic diarrhœa. I was informed by the doctor that these
two persons had already been examined for discharge, their papers made
out, and forwarded to the office of the Medical Director for approval.
This of course satisfied me; but I always made it convenient, whenever
I went to Alexandria to call and inquire concerning them. Weeks passed,
and nothing was heard from them. I again went to the doctor, and
inquired “if he could account for the delay.” He replied: “I made up my
mind some days ago that they were lost, and have had them made out the
second time, and I have no doubt they will be returned in a few days.”
I now felt doubly sure that all was as he had said.
After waiting a reasonable length of time, I went over again--for I
felt exceedingly anxious about them--when, to my surprise, I learned
that nothing had yet been heard from them. I returned to Washington,
went to the Medical Director’s, and inquired why it was those papers
were so long delayed. The records were examined, and I was informed
that no such papers had ever been received there. I insisted that it
must be, as they had been sent the second time. The books were again
referred to, and carefully examined, but with the same result as
before. I left the office, and immediately reported the facts to our
secretary, who reported the same to the committee appointed by the
Secretary of War, to investigate all such matters. What weight this
report had with the committee I did not learn, but I was satisfied
to know soon after that that surgeon was removed from the hospital.
The discharge papers were then made out, but ere their return to the
hospital poor Benson had received his final discharge from earth.
Peters lived to go home, but whether he recovered or found an early
grave I know not.
Not long after this I accompanied Mrs. Brainard to one of our hospitals
in Washington. As we entered the building, we were confronted by the
surgeon-in-charge, who demanded of Mrs. B. to know what she had in that
basket. “Flannel shirts and drawers,” she replied. “Well, you can’t
take them into my hospital,” was his quick and irritable response,
at the same time seizing the basket and endeavoring to wrench it from
Mrs. B’s. hands; but, nothing daunted, she gave a sudden jerk backward
and cleared it from the doctor’s grasp, saying, as she found herself
in full possession of her goods, “I understand my business, sir, and
am going to take my things into the hospital.” Mr. “Pomposity” passed
on, and we entered the office at our left, where we were greeted with
a graceful salute by the officer of the day, who pleasantly inquired,
“What can I do for you this morning?” Our request, being made known,
is cheerfully granted, and our basket is soon made lighter and the
sick boys happier. The difference there was in officers will readily
be seen from this incident. A little “brass” did wonders for some; it
made them arrogant, overbearing, dictatorial and tyrannical, while with
others it made no difference whether they wore the corporal’s stripe
or the general’s star. Garments of blue, though bordered with gold,
have no power to crush the generous impulses of a noble soul. The true
gentleman is discernible in any garb, and under all circumstances. The
surgeon with whom we had this encounter soon after got into trouble
with one of his patients. One cold morning before daylight, one of the
wards of his hospital took fire. This patient, a convalescent from
pneumonia, was the first on the roof, where he remained throwing
bucket after bucket of water upon the burning building, until the fire
was extinguished. As his clothes were dripping with water when he
descended, he applied for some dry ones; but, as none could be obtained
from the ward, he appealed to the surgeon, who ordered him back to
his ward, telling him he could dry his clothes by the fire; he still
insisted upon having some, and the doctor still refused, and again
ordered him to his ward. By this time the soldier’s anger was pretty
well aroused, and, confronting the doctor with clenched fist, says,
“Take care, doctor, I have smelled gunpowder, and that is more than
you have done,” at the same time planting a blow between his eyes that
caused him to stagger and nearly fall to the floor. Rallying from this
stunning blow, he called out, “Guards, guards, come and take this man
away.” The order was obeyed, and he was locked up in the guard-house.
The consequence was a relapse, which for a long time threatened his
life. But, once released without having charges being preferred against
him, and having a good understanding of military regulations, he
found that he had the advantage of the doctor, and he improved it by
preferring charges against him. The result was, that in a few weeks we
had another surgeon in charge of the hospital--one whom the patients,
as far as I ever knew, honored and respected.
I have known other surgeons who deserved as little respect as those
here referred to; but, to the honor of the profession be it said, they
were not in the majority. I knew many noble, skilful, self-sacrificing
surgeons in the army, whose whole energies were devoted to the making
of their hospitals pleasant and their patients comfortable.
Toward the close of the month of November the finances of our
Association became very low. No money was received to replenish our
exhausted treasury--no supplies reached us, if I mistake not, except a
few boxes from Lansing. Had it not been for stores received from other
States than our own, our work would almost entirely have ceased.
In addition to what Mrs. Brainard received from New York and Maryland,
a nice barrel of goods was sent me from Harbor Creek, Pa., another
from Portland, Me., and a firkin of pickles from an aged lady living
in Hampden, Maine. The work of preparing these had all been done by
herself; but her labor was a thousandfold repaid in gratitude and
thanks and the good accomplished.
We occasionally drew from the Sanitary and Christian Commissions, and
the various State Relief Associations, and thus managed to keep at
work. For occasional drafts on the Sanitary Commission we were indebted
to the personal efforts of our State Agent, Dr. Tunnecliff. In the
barrel of goods which I have mentioned as coming from Maine, was a suit
of clothes once worn by Captain Crosby, of the Twenty-second Maine
volunteers, who was killed at the battle of Port Hudson. The clothes
were sent by his patriotic mother, with the request that they be given
to some needy Maine soldier, as she wished them to be worn out in the
service in which her dear son had fallen. What a noble example of
self-sacrificing devotion to country!
In order to lessen expenses, Mrs. Brainard--who had returned from
Gettysburg a month before--and I took rooms together and boarded
ourselves. A meeting of the officers of the Association was called to
consider the subject of disorganizing; but they concluded to try and
maintain the organization until spring, for they could not bear the
thought that Michigan--the first to form a State Relief Association
at the National Capital--should be the first to abandon it. An appeal
was made through correspondence, by our Secretary, to Governor Blair,
members of Congress, and other persons of influence in the State,
setting forth the exhausted condition of our treasury and storeroom,
and inquiring what course to pursue. The uniform response was: “Don’t
for a moment think of discontinuing your labors as a society.” An
appeal was then made to the people of our State, and not many weeks
elapsed ere the call was heeded, as the supplies received proved.
Battles and skirmishes were of no unfrequent occurrence. A large number
of wounded were brought in from the battles near Kelly’s Ford--Michigan
not losing as heavily as Maine and Wisconsin. The Sixth Maine, in one
engagement, lost eighteen commissioned officers in killed and wounded.
Among those who were passing, one after another, into the unknown
world, was William Doyle, of the Third Michigan volunteers, whose
death was sudden--unexpected. He was convalescing from intermittent
fever, and had written to his wife, stating the time she might hope to
welcome him home, as he had applied for a furlough which he was daily
expecting. He predicted rightly. The time of his arrival was only a
little delayed. But, alas! only the clay tenement returned to rest
where loving hands would bedeck its tomb with flowers, and the tears of
affection water his grave.
“Underneath the sod low lying,
Dark and drear,
Sleepeth one, who left in dying
Sorrow here.
“Yes, they’re ever bending o’er him
Eyes that weep;
Forms that to the cold earth bore him,
Vigils keep.
“When the summer moon is shining
Soft and fair,
Friends he loved, in tears are twining
Chaplets there.
“Rest in peace, thou gentle spirit
Throned above;
Souls like thine with God inherit
Life and love!”
_CHAPTER X._
THE VETERAN RESERVE CORPS--UNWILLINGNESS TO SERVE IN IT--FORTY DAYS
IN THE GUARD-HOUSE--CLIFBURN BARRACKS--EXPOSURE--AN OLD SOLDIER’S
STORY--SUNDRY DUTIES--CHRISTMAS--THE SURPRISE--PROFESSOR HOLDEN--A
BEREAVED MOTHER--VISIT TO THE ARMY--FIELD HOSPITALS--STEVENSBURG--MRS.
MAYHEW--CHAPEL SERVICE--RETURN TO WASHINGTON.