NEW ENGLAND ROOMS
Colonel Frank Howe, of the New England Rooms, on Broadway near Fulton
Street, New York City, was the director of that Rest for stranded and
sick soldiers, as well as for many helplessly wounded. Here I found
many of the most interesting cases of my experience. Colonel Howe
felt that their contribution of wounded to the Sanitary Fair would
be a more effective object-lesson and incentive, than inanimate war
emblems and relics displayed in the Arms and Trophy Department. Some
of these crippled men were now waiting for Government to provide
homes for those incapable of self-support.
Colonel Howe thereupon secured free passes for a number of
convalescents, and I consented to take charge of them during the
fair. Consequently, one bright day, the New England ambulance was
crowded with the following passengers, namely: one man without legs,
two men without arms, one blind from a shot passing through his head,
a one-legged boy, the famous John Burns of Gettysburg, and a colored
woman to assist. I sat on the front seat with the driver. We drove up
Broadway to the fair grounds, quite regardless of the curious crowd
that followed.
These brave martyrs were received with outstretched hands and cordial
sympathy, and given the freedom of every department in the wonderful
exhibition. In a splendid restaurant I volunteered to act as waiter,
that I might be certain that the Boys had good meals and attention,
for which the Sanitary Commission made no charge.
A crowd followed armless Berry who carried on his strong back legless
Smith,--who in turn dressed and fed Berry. These two had become
great friends and, like the Siamese twins, were inseparable. Always
cheerful, they seemed to enjoy life. Smith was a good penman and
wrote me interesting letters, of which I still have some, generally
signed “Berry and Smith.” Berry often carried the legless man about
the large building to see the wonders which they greatly enjoyed.
Another armless soldier, a sergeant always in uniform, travelled
about alone, and when in cars or boats was rarely asked for fare, or
if so, he would say: “Help yourself from my pockets.” Few had the
heart to do this, so he usually travelled free.
McNulty, a refined young man, who had lost an arm in an early
engagement, but was now quite well, was also of our party, though he
was quite independent and asked no help, having already learned, like
General Howard, to use his left arm for writing and to serve double
duty.
Famous John Burns was included with those mentioned above in the
freedom of the whole building, and at seventy years of age called
himself one of my “Boys.” The following is copied from a card which
he had printed to “save so much talk,” and which he claimed was a
true history of his experience and help in the renowned battle of
Gettysburg. This card he gave me personally.
[Illustration: McNULTY]
JOHN L. BURNS’ ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF
“I was born in Burlington, New Jersey, on the 5th day of
September, 1793. I served in the war of 1812. At the
outbreak of the Rebellion, I went with Captain McPherson to
Camp Wayne, Westchester, where I enlisted, but was
discharged at the end of a fortnight on account of my age. I
returned to Gettysburg (my home at that time), then went to
Hagerstown and served as assistant in the wagon camp for two
weeks, after which, as a teamster, I joined the three
months’ boys under Patterson, with whom I remained a month.
I then went to Frederick, and obtained the position of
police officer in General Banks’ division. I was present at
the battle of Edward’s Ferry, and saw Colonel Baker carried
across the river. I remained with Colonel Banks for six
months, and then returned home, where I was at the time of
the battle of Gettysburg. On the first day of the fight I
met General Reynolds, who had been out reconnoitering, and
was asked to show him the Emmettsburg road. After doing
this, I obtained a musket from a soldier who had been
wounded while on guard, and went off to the army ‘to shoot
some of the damned rebels’. I fell in with a Wisconsin
regiment, and fought sometimes in line, and sometimes on my
own hook. About one P. M., during an intermission, while
lying in the woods, I saw a Missouri man fall from the shot
of a rebel concealed in the bushes. I stepped behind a tree,
and seeing the rebel about to reload, I shot him. I also
shot a tremendous great rebel who would not get out of my
way. I myself received seven balls on the first day of the
fight, the last of which wounded me severely in the leg. I
lay on the field all night, and a rebel surgeon gave me
water and a blanket. In the morning I crawled to a house
near by, and about two P. M. succeeded in being taken to my
own house, which I found occupied by the rebels as a
hospital. Their doctor dressed my wound. On Friday, at two
P. M. I was closely questioned by two rebel officers as to
where I got my musket.”
[Illustration: JOHN BURNS]
I have also his photograph which he gave me, and from which, I
believe, the life size figure of his statue was made. I saw him many
times at my home in Brooklyn, and elsewhere, always wearing proudly
the shabby old coat with bullet holes in the front corners. This is
not given in the life size figure of the old hero on his monument at
Gettysburg Cemetery, where he stands without a coat with bared head,
musket in hand, as if starting for the field of action.
“And as they gazed, there crept an awe
Through the ranks in whispers, and some men saw,
In the antique garments and long white hair,
The past of the nation, in battle there.”