AN UNHAPPY ACCIDENT--THE UNFORTUNATE LADIES OF VICKSBURG--APPROACH OF
MORTAR SHELLS NEAR THE INTRENCHMENTS.
A few days after the assault on the Confederate fortifications, a sad
accident cast a gloom over all the little community encamped in the
ravine--officers, soldiers, and servants: A soldier, named Henry, had
noticed my little girl often, bringing her flowers at one time, an apple
at another, and again a young mocking bird, and had attached her to him
much by these little kindnesses. Frequently, on seeing him pass, she would
call his name, and clap her hands gleefully, as he rode the general's
handsome horse for water, causing him to prance past the cave for her
amusement. She called my attention to him one morning, saying: "O mamma,
look at Henny's horse how he plays!" He was riding a small black horse
that was exceedingly wild, and striving to accustom it to the rapid
evolutions of the Texas troops, turning in his saddle to grasp something
from the ground, as he moved speedily on. Soon after, he rode the horse
for water; and I saw him return and fasten it to a tree.
Afterward I saw him come down the hill opposite, with an unexploded
shrapnel shell in his hand. In a few moments I heard a quick explosion in
the ravine, followed by a cry--a sudden, agonized cry. I ran to the
entrance, and saw a courier, whom I had noticed frequently passing by,
roll slowly over into the rivulet of the ravine and lie motionless, at a
little distance: Henry--oh, poor Henry!--holding out his mangled arms--the
hands torn and hanging from the bleeding, ghastly wrists--a fearful wound
in his head--the blood pouring from his wounds. Shot, gasping, wild, he
staggered around, crying piteously, "Where are you, boys? O boys, where
are you? Oh, I am hurt! I am hurt! Boys, come to me!--come to me! God have
mercy! Almighty God, have mercy!"
My little girl clung to my dress, saying, "O mamma, poor Henny's killed!
Now he'll die, mamma. Oh, poor Henny!" I carried her away from the painful
sight.
My first impulse was to run down to them with the few remedies I
possessed. Then I thought of the crowd of soldiers around the men; and if
M---- should come and see me there--the only lady--he might think I did
wrong; so I sent my servant, with camphor and other slight remedies I
possessed, and turned into my cave, with a sickened heart.
In a few moments, the litters pass by, going toward the hospital, the
blood streaming from that of Henry, who still moaned and cried "for the
boys to come to him," and "for God to pity him."
But the other bore the still, motionless body of the young courier, who,
in the strength of his life, had been so suddenly stricken. It seems that
the two men had been trying to take out the screw from an unexploded shell
for the purpose of securing the powder; in turning it, the fuse had become
ignited, communicating the fire to the powder, and the fatal explosion
ensued.
Henry had been struck in the head by a fragment--his hands torn from his
arms; one or two fragments had also lodged in his body. The courier had
been struck in two places in his head, and a number of balls had entered
his body. Poor soldier! his mother lived in Yazoo City; and he was her
only son. So near was she, yet unable to hold his head and set the seal of
her love on his lips ere the breath fled from them forever! He lived until
the sun went down, speaking no word--making no moan; only the quickly
drawn breath told that life still flickered in the mangled body. Henry
died, also, that night, still unconscious of the sorrowful comrades around
his bed--still calling on God to pity him.
After the bodies of the wounded men had been carried away, we heard loud
wailings and cries in the direction of the city. I was told a negro woman,
in walking through the yard, had been struck by a fragment of shell, and
instantly killed. The screams of the women of Vicksburg were the saddest I
have ever heard. The wailings over the dead seemed full of a heart-sick
agony. I cannot attempt to describe the thrill of pity, mingled with fear,
that pierced my soul, as suddenly vibrating through the air would come
these sorrowful shrieks!--these pitiful moans!--sometimes almost
simultaneously with the explosion of a shell. This anguish over the dead
and wounded was particularly low and mournful, perhaps from the
depression. Many women were utterly sick through constant fear and
apprehension. It is strange that the ladies were almost constantly in
caves, and yet, did one go out for a short time, she was almost certain to
be wounded; while the officers and soldiers rode and walked about, with
very little destruction of life ensuing.
An officer was telling me of two soldiers near his camp, who had been
severely wounded by Minie balls--one shot through the hand and lung; the
other through the side.
A new cause for apprehension came to me about this time: the mortar boats
were endeavoring to throw their bombs as far as the intrenchments, and
almost succeeded. I could see them at night falling near the opposite
hill; and I was in a constant state of trepidation, lest they should be
cast still nearer us. After witnessing the brilliant streams of light that
they created in the heavens, one night, and feeling repeatedly thankful
that they always fell short of the hill we inhabited, I gradually grew
sleepy in utter loneliness, for M---- seldom finished receiving reports
until eleven. I wearily turned to the little mattress on the floor, said
my prayers, and retired. I had been sleeping some time, for the moon was
shining brightly, when I was awakened by loud cries and screams: "Where
shall we go? Oh! where shall we go?" My immediate conclusion was that some
woman had been killed or wounded, as every now and then I could see the
mortar shells dropping on the hill opposite. I therefore thought that I
had been spared in Vicksburg, as long as I reasonably could hope, from the
variety of changes through which I had passed; and immediately I was
seized with a severe panic. If shells had not been falling from the battle
field also, I fear I should have started in that direction--so great was
my dread of the mortars!--and run, I cared not where, out of their range.
But the counter awe of Parrott shells kept me where I was. I sat up in bed
in a fearful state of excitement; called M---- again and again, without
the slightest response; at last, a sleepily uttered "What is the matter?"
gave me an opportunity of informing him that we would all be killed, and
telling him, while the cold moisture of fear broke out over my forehead,
that the mortar shells were nearer than ever, and that the next one
would probably fall upon our cave. Awakened at last to my distressed state
of mind, and hearing me say that I knew some woman had been killed, he got
up, dressed, took up his cap, and went out to see what had happened,
telling me he would return shortly--looking back, laughing as he went, and
saying to me that I was fearfully demoralized for so good a soldier. He
soon returned, telling me that a negro man had been killed at the entrance
of a cave a little beyond us, toward the city; that his mistress, wife,
and the young ladies of the family were very badly frightened, having
taken refuge in the adjutant's office.