THE STORY OF MY PASS
We were often annoyed by the calls of officers who, having little
to occupy their time, could not understand how it was possible for
us to be too tired to entertain them. They frequently called on me
when I had many letters to write, and I would say to them: “Well,
gentlemen, if it’s any satisfaction to you to sit here while I write
letters, I’ve no objection, but these home letters for the Boys are
my first duty.” They thought I should feel complimented by the calls
of headquarters’ officers, but I assured them I was quite aware that
they had come to me only to kill time, when they had exhausted all
other amusements.
It was really too much honor, and too much of a good thing when
forty-five officers called on me in one week, some coming in from the
front on short leave when all was quiet on the James, others from
Grant’s Headquarters, and from our Hospital Headquarters.
One evening I was very tired and three of these officers, fine
looking men in full uniform, but slightly under the influence of
liquor, annoyed me greatly. At “taps” I said significantly--“It’s
taps, gentlemen!”
“That does not concern us,” one replied, “we can stay as long as we
wish.”
“General Grant himself could not stay in my tent after taps,” I
retorted indignantly.
They made no move to go, however. I arose and simply pointed to the
tent opening, declining any reply to their remarks. They at last
passed out in great indignation, and immediately one of these doctors
began a petty persecution. Knowing that I had lost my pass he tried
to have me sent to Washington. This soon became known in camp, and my
friends set themselves to work to circumvent his unmanly spite.
He obtained an order from the Provost Marshall, General Patrick, by
which all persons in camp not having passes should report at once
to Washington. It was necessary, however, that he should notify
personally any one so unfortunate as to have no pass. When he
called at my tent I was never to be found, for whenever the doctor
approached some one would say “Here comes C!” and I began a system of
remarkable evolutions from one tent to another in the row, gliding
back and forth, until he had to give up the search for the day.
Fortunately my good friend, Mrs. Doctor Painter, had made such a
favorable report of me to General Grant’s Headquarters that a pass
was promised. The utmost diplomacy was necessary to gain time, but at
last the pass was handed to me, secretly, on Thanksgiving eve, as we
were decorating the mess hall for the coming feast.
The next day I was at home when Doctor C. called. I received him
with much courtesy and said: “I hear, doctor, that you have called
several times when I was not in. To what am I indebted for so much
attention? Be seated.”
The florid face grew redder, but I gave him no chance to speak, and
in my most agreeable manner I talked and talked of everything I could
think of, despite his many efforts to get in a word. Finally I grew
tired of the fun, as were also some friends and listeners in the
adjoining tent. Then, as if just remembering his attempts to speak, I
said, “O, doctor, had you something to say to me?”
Growing still redder, if possible, and sitting uncomfortably on
the edge of the barrel chair that I had insisted on his taking, he
said, “O, only that an order is received that all persons not having
authority must report to Washington. Er-- er--have you a pass?”
“Doctor, you know that my pass was stolen.” And I asked demurely what
I should do.
With an air of exultation he sprang up and said--“Unfortunately, Miss
Smith, you will have to report to Washington to-morrow.”
Then slowly taking the pass from my pocket, I said hesitatingly,
“Well, Doctor, here is a paper that perhaps will help me,” and I
handed him the Grant pass.
“Headquarters Armies United States,
City Point, Virginia, March 16, 1865.
Miss Smith will be afforded all facilities that Army
Commanders afford to other State Agents.
Free transportation will be given her on all Government
steamers and Military Railroads. Guards and pickets will
pass her accordingly.
By command of
LIEUTENANT GENERAL GRANT
T. S. Bowers, A. A. G.”
I watched him in silence till he finished reading. His face was
crimson and he said with a nervous giggle, “O, yes, er--I’ll fix you
up at medical headquarters all right!”
“Will you, indeed?” I replied, “I think I have fixed you. Now you may
go,” and he lost no time in going.
The laughter in the next tent must have reached him as he darted out
and across the road to the hospital headquarters, where he exclaimed
breathlessly: “D---- that Miss Smith. When I thought I had her all
right she kept me on nettles for an hour, and then showed me an order
from General Grant ranking me.”
This soon became camp gossip, and he was jeered from one side to the
other of the hospital.