WOUNDED.
Upon that southern battle-field,
One well remembered day,
I wore the loyal Union blue,
And he, the rebel gray;
All day in conflict fierce and wild,
Were mingled blue and gray,
And when night came, both he and I,
Among the wounded lay,
_L. M. J._
Our line of march led us in the direction of the Boydton plank road,
and on the morning of March 30th the 32nd was detailed for the skirmish
line. It was a rainy day, but we soldiers could not stop for the
weather. About two o’clock in the afternoon, we sighted the enemy’s
pickets, and then firing began in earnest. All went well with me
until about three o’clock, when I felt something strike my foot, not
realizing that it was a bullet until I saw the jagged holes where it
went in and out, breaking the bones as it went.
I stood and considered a moment whether to go to the rear or not, and
finally decided to go back, get the surgeon to dress my wound, and then
return to my company. It was quite a distance back to the rear, and I
had to drop my gun and sit down to rest by the way. As I did so, I saw
my colonel, who stopped and asked me if I was much hurt.
“Oh no,” I replied, “Only slight, I will soon be back.”
“I am glad it is no worse,” he replied, and on he went.
I found the surgeon, had my foot bound up, and started to go back to my
company.
“Where are you going?” asked the surgeon.
“Back to my company,” said I.
“No you’re not! Get on to that stretcher!” was the order, and I was
obliged to obey, though I did not see the need of it; my foot did not
pain me, only felt numb, and I felt a little weak and tired, which
could hardly be wondered at. I was carried to the ambulance and
taken to the field hospital, where I sat and waited for my turn to
come. Meanwhile I saw such horrible wounds, that I can never forget
or describe. It was a hard trial, for I was waiting for my turn to be
operated upon, not knowing whether I would lose my foot or not.
My turn came at last, and I was given chloroform, and knew nothing more
until I was being carried from the operating table to the hospital
tent, when the rain beating on my face brought back my scattered senses.
Next morning the wounded were put on board box cars, and sent to City
Point, arriving there late in the afternoon. Here I thought my journey
was at an end, but I was mistaken once more.
The next morning the surgeon made his rounds at eight o’clock, and all
the badly wounded were given a card, to show that they must be sent on
board the steamer which was to start for Washington in an hour. I was
pleased that I received no card, as it showed that I was not considered
a bad case. At quarter to nine, the assistant surgeon came in.
“What sergeant, not on board yet?” Said he.
“No, I’m not going,” I answered.
“We’ll see about that!” he replied, and out he went. In a moment back
he came with two men, who bundled me onto a stretcher and carried me
on board the steamer just as she was to leave the dock.
We arrived in Washington on the morning of April 2nd and I was carried
to Armory Square hospital, where I was bathed and put to bed. The lady
nurse, a Miss Dixon of Connecticut, came with an orange and a glass of
lemonade, but I could only shake my head in refusal, for I was in too
much pain to speak. My foot had at last come to its feeling, and for
the next twenty-four hours I suffered the most excruciating agony. I
was given morphine, but it seemed to have no effect for a while.
The surgeons thought my foot would have to be taken off, but I begged
them not to cripple me for life and they postponed the operation for
a day. At their next visit, they decided the foot could be saved, and
I was very thankful. I suffered a great deal after that, but my foot
greatly improved, until finally on the 19th of April, I was allowed
to get up, and managed to hobble on crutches down to ward I, to visit
sergeant Buker. Was up a few hours, then went to bed very tired and
did not get up next day.
After that I was up every day, and soon was able to get round very well
on crutches. I saw many sad sights during my stay in this hospital.
Many a poor fellow gave up the weary struggle for life and died; one or
two a day in my ward alone for some time. We were treated very kindly,
and received good care and nursing.
Many citizens visited the hospitals, and showed much sympathy for
the sick and wounded veterans. There was an old colored woman who
came daily with a big basket of pies, cakes, biscuits, and other good
things, and her coming was always hailed with delight, for to those
who were able to eat what she brought she gave liberally, and to those
who could not, by order of the surgeons receive them, she gave kind
cheering words promising to bring them something they could eat the
next time she came.
I do not remember her name, only that we all called her “Aunty,” and
that her mistress allowed her to use all the time and material she
desired to make these dainties for the sick men, who daily watched for
her coming, and enjoyed the good things she brought. I can testify
to the fact that she was a good cook, and I shall ever remember her
with gratitude. The lady nurses who cared so tenderly for the sick and
wounded soldiers, will ever be kindly remembered by me.
Meanwhile stirring events were taking place. Lee’s surrender, which
ended the fighting, and the assassination of President Lincoln occurred
while I lay helpless in the hospital. How I longed to be up and about,
to help finish the work in which I had been so long engaged.
After the surrender of Lee, and the succeeding events, the army was
massed around Washington, my regiment with the rest, and my tentmate
Graves, and several other comrades came to see me, and it was from them
that I learned what took place after I was wounded.
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