NEW YORK STATE AGENCY
Quite unknown to me, the State Agents and the two Commissions had
formulated an appeal to have me supersede Mrs. Spencer, then New York
State Agent in the field, and urged that I go at once to Governor
Fenton at Albany to have it confirmed. So the day after the wedding I
started for New York on a government transport.
Mr. Houghton was also going North. The rumor of a wedding had already
spread over camp, and Mr. Houghton and I were congratulated as
the happy couple on our wedding trip. This caused a great deal of
merriment.
Captain Blackman of the transport, was very kind and made the trip
on the shabby boat quite pleasant. My little cabin was suffocating
at night, and I left my door open with a light burning in the narrow
passage-way, while the engineer and his wife slept opposite. Quite
exhausted with preparations for the wedding and for my trip North, I
fell into a heavy sleep. Some time during the night I was awakened by
heavy hands passing up and down my body. I awoke in total darkness,
and was too dazed at first to comprehend the situation, but at last I
managed to exclaim “Who are you, and what do you want?”
A coarse voice, in broken English, said, “I want a place to sleep!”
I called for a light and help, when in a very calm manner the
intruder said: “O, don’t put yourself in a stew!” On his hastily
retreating footsteps I quickly closed and locked the door. The
engineer had doubtless extinguished the light in the passage before
he closed their door.
The next day we stopped at Fortress Monroe, and were allowed to
examine the interior of the Fort, and that great mounted black gun
called “The Swamp Angel” which was reputed to throw a shot of four
hundred pounds!
In Washington we met our old friend Major Baker; and when we walked
up Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Capitol we saw the effect of an
unusual freak of the wind. A large flag was flying at the top from
either wing of the great building and both flags blew in towards
each other, standing out immovable without a fold as if held by some
material background. The effect was peculiar.
But I spent little time sight-seeing, and took the afternoon train
for New York.
Upon arriving at my home in Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn, there were
many matters to attend to, and I had little time to spend with my
family. I then started for Albany. At Troy we crossed the river in
a sleigh on thick ice. I had been invited to stop at the home of my
former patient John C. Guffin, where I met his father, mother and
brother. The parents reminded me of Abraham and Sarah. They seemed
to have dropped out of the Old Testament, as they talked in Scripture
language quite difficult for me to understand.
The hilly streets of Albany were covered with ice, and although a
natural climber, I could not keep my footing, and so I simply sat
down and slid to the bottom of those hills. Governor Fenton was away
when I arrived, and I was obliged to remain three days waiting for
him. During this time these hospitable patriarchs gave me, three
times a day, only buckwheat cakes and tea, which peculiar diet caused
a severe headache. I was very glad when I could get away. I never
experienced such cold as during that visit.
Governor Fenton was very courteous, and, after examining the
appeal made by all the State Agencies, the Sanitary and Christian
Commissions, he soon granted the request and gave me the Commission
of New York State agent, with directions to report to Mr. Morgan,
head of New York State Agency in Washington.
On my return to Washington I met Mr. Morgan, and received from him
the following commission:
“New York State Agency,
181 Pennsylvania Avenue,
Washington, D. C., February 22, 1865.
Colonel T. S. Bowers,
A. A. G. Armies, United States.
Sir:
Miss Ada W. Smith has been appointed agent of the State of
New York for the relief of her soldiers.
I respectfully commend her to your kind consideration,
assuring you that every facility given her for carrying out
the object of her mission will be appreciated.
Very truly,
D. G. MORGAN,
Supt. N. Y. S. Military Agency.”
Mr. Morgan directed me to report to City Point and to relieve Mrs.
Spencer.
On my return to City Point I met Major and Mrs. Eden. Having
received his promotion and a furlough, they were on their wedding
trip North. I was glad to return to City Point camp life and duty,
with congratulations on all sides. The next day, with an ambulance
and a friend, I went to Mrs. Spencer’s quarters and showed her my
commission, saying, “I would like to take possession in a few days.”
Mrs. Spencer had been charged with partiality to McClellan men, and
refusing Republican soldiers tobacco, etc. Politics, even in the
army, caused many somersaults, and were quite beyond my management;
and through some strategy my commission was revoked at City Point,
though I retained the commission as New York agent in general!
There were then some indications of the collapse of the Confederacy,
and that when this frightful war was over the agencies would also
collapse. However, I kept on working in the old way, while my
indignant Republican friends threatened, and tried to storm the
New York State Agency. Politics ran high and many lost their heads
politically. Many convalescent copperheads and Democrats, enlisted
men, were allowed to go home to vote for president.
Doctor Painter, a strong Republican, incurred the displeasure of
General Patrick, a Democrat, by some manipulations which enabled her
to get enough passes for Jersey soldiers to go home to vote and so
balance the Democratic vote.
Many one-armed and one-legged men were moving about camp, waiting
orders to report to Washington, where the Government would supply
them with artificial limbs and discharge them. It was surprising how
many were well fitted with these limbs, and that many could walk so
well that only a slight limp betrayed them; while others with neatly
gloved hands, which they could sometimes use quite well, were seldom
observed in passing.
A young lieutenant from Maine, had lost a leg, and was lying, weary
and helpless, on his hospital cot. He had written, as had many
another poor fellow crippled for life, to his fiancée, offering to
resign his claim, and he was now feverishly awaiting her reply. Day
after day passed, and still no answer, while we tried every device to
encourage him. He said “I know how it will be!” He became bitter and
scornful and made no effort to live. While it was scarcely possible
in any case that he could recover from this usually fatal thigh
fracture, we still hoped that he might at least receive some word of
comfort before he died.
I seldom went into the wards after nightfall, but the dying boy sent
for me quite late one night. Hoping that some kind word had come at
last, I hastened to his side. None had come and, conscious that his
life was fast ebbing away, he had only bitterness for his former
sweetheart and died with these cruel thoughts.
I wrote his friend, simply announcing his death; but a few days
later came her reply, full of grief. She had received no letter, nor
knew anything of his wounds. They had been friends from childhood
and she could not believe she would never see him again. “Had he
not mentioned her or left some word?” My reply was the saddest and
most difficult of all sad letters, for--“It might have been.” I
tried to think of some word which he had dropped which might be
happily construed, and I certainly strained a point to give this poor
heart-stricken girl some little comfort to remember from the boy
lover of her childhood.
A few days later his comrades carried him to a mournful tune of fife
and drum, and fired a last salute over his lonely grave.
“Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these, it might have been.”