THE LAST ACT IN MY DRAMA AT WASHINGTON
While still working at high tension I suddenly became aware that
even my great vitality and good health demanded a rest, and I was
preparing to leave for home, when Mr. Huron, of the Indiana State
Agency, who had nearly lost his pretty wife by typhoid at City
Point, came urging me to undertake an unusually difficult case, an
application for discharge. I insisted that I had not enough energy
left to win another case. His discharge had been repeatedly blocked,
even though urged by the Secretary of the State of Indiana, and there
seemed to be no hope of sending this brave soldier home. However, Mr.
Huron’s statement of injustice was so exasperating that, in righteous
indignation, I determined to remain and make one more effort at this
last moment. This man, who had served his full term of four years
honorably, and had lost a leg, was, without consent, placed on the
roll of the Invalid Corps, which indignity old soldiers considered a
stain on their army escutcheon. Many appeals had failed to accomplish
his discharge. The case was always “referred back” to the hospital
where it was duly “pigeon-holed.” The man’s sister had come to
Washington expecting to take him home to Indiana, but for weeks
all their efforts had failed, and now some legal complications had
culminated which required his presence at home to save their little
property and farm.
The next day I went to the hospital, and after listening to the man’s
statement I went directly to the surgeon in charge, and stated the
case,--to which he replied with some discourtesy. Having received the
utmost courtesy and respect and attention from all the departments
when I had asked for help, my temper rose to the occasion when he
said: “The man has no descriptive list, and I will attend to it when
I think best!”
“That will not answer my purpose,” I replied warmly. “I wish the man
to go at once!” and I made some strong statements of the urgency of
the situation. He assumed a dignified silence; on which I stated
emphatically “The man is going! If you do not help me in the matter,
he will go just the same!” My indignation was then sufficient to put
through a half dozen cases.
Going directly to the Medical Department, I made known to Surgeons
Middletown and Abbott the unjust detention of this loyal soldier.
They had always promptly aided me in other cases; and upon hearing
my statement they also became indignant, and offered me every help.
I had “turned in” my ambulance with many thanks, when I intended to
leave for home; but Doctor Middletown said “You had better have our
headquarters’ ambulance, for you have many miles to travel over the
city to put this matter through, and I will go ‘over the head’ of
this surgeon and order him to order a descriptive list.”
With this document I was much encouraged, and went next morning to
the hospital and my aristocratic surgeon, who tried not to appear
surprised as he said loftily: “I will attend to it.”
“Excuse me,” I said, “I came directly from Headquarters to get your
signature, and to deliver the paper to the Medical Department myself.”
He dared not refuse this order, and sent for the steward and gave
him the paper to fill out the order. I followed closely on the heels
of this man to his office, where he coolly thrust the paper into a
pigeon-hole and sat down. Surmising that his intention was to make me
wait until after office hours, I at last said to him: “Steward, if
you do not intend to make out that paper at once I shall report you
to Medical Headquarters.” He soon found time and made out the paper,
and I rode away to unravel more red tape. At the Medical Department
the doctors signed the paper, and directed me to take it to the War
Department. Distances were great and office hours short, and so
another day passed. But at the earliest moment on the following day,
we drove to the War Department, where I found Captain Sam Breck, now
a retired General, a handsome thoroughbred gentleman who had done me
many army favors.
“Why, Miss Smith,” he exclaimed cheerfully, “are you here yet? I
thought you were through with us.”
“Well, Captain, you haven’t got rid of me yet, and though I am
completely tired out, I have taken another most distressing case, and
I’m going to sit right down here and talk until you help me out.”
Jokingly, he said, “Oh, I can’t stand that, so let us see if I can
save your breath.”
I stated the case as briefly as possible, and his sense of justice
was aroused as he said emphatically, “I will help you with this case.”
“How long does it take to put through a descriptive list?” I asked.
“Well,” he replied, “about three weeks usually!”
“Oh,” I exclaimed, “that won’t do. I can’t stay so long, and if I
leave the papers they’ll be pigeon-holed again.”
He thought a moment, and said, “Let me have the papers,” and he left
me waiting in his office.
On returning the paper he said, “There, Miss Smith, that has never
before been done in this Department. The descriptive list has been
put through in fifteen minutes. Take it to your doctor, and he will
be obliged to sign it; and then your man will be free.”
Too delighted and relieved to properly express my thanks, I
said--“Good-bye for good this time, Captain. I promise not to trouble
you any more!”
Again in the ambulance I said to the driver, who was very much
interested, “Now, Orderly, your horses can not go too fast for me!”
and soon we dashed up to the hospital grounds.
Meanwhile the case had become hospital gossip, and every “Boy” knew
of my work. The doctor gave me the slip, but I followed him up
through the wards till I found him at last in his office. In passing
through the wards I waved the paper saying--“Boys, I have it, I have
it!” A low cheer passed round as the good news spread from ward to
ward.
On presenting this order I said, “Doctor, will you please sign this?”
With an effort he controlled his expression, and said quite blandly,
“Er, er--when would you like to have this man go?”
“Immediately, if you please!”--with extreme politeness.
“Oh! then I will order the ambulance.”
“Thank you,” I replied, “I have the Medical Headquarters’ Ambulance
waiting and will take the man with me just as soon as he can be made
ready.” I then bowed myself out politely.
In half an hour the happy cripple was placed beside me in the
ambulance, and we drove directly to Mr. Huron’s home, where the now
rejoicing sister was waiting. She started at once to take her brother
home by easy stages, and we heard that they had reached their little
farm in safety. A letter of appreciation from the Secretary of the
State of Indiana was a satisfactory ending to this almost impossible
case.
In my many visits to this hospital I had discovered some
“irregularities,” for instance, that a number of soldiers were
detained on various pretexts in order that the requisite number might
be maintained, with their “rations” (thirty-seven cents per diem) to
keep open this hospital. So many men begged me, almost upon their
knees, to help them. As this was quite beyond my strength I resolved
to report the matter to General Grant’s headquarters. During my call
he listened politely and silently, laid away his cigar, gave me his
attention, and referred me to Adjutant Bowers, who exclaimed: “Why,
that is impossible! Here is an order sent some weeks ago directing
all convalescents to be discharged at once!”
“Nevertheless, Colonel,” I replied, “the men remain.”
With some excitement he replied, “If you can get me the names of
these men, and I find that orders have not been followed, I will
close that hospital, at once.”
This decision and the fact that General Grant had given me his
autograph during my visit, made me very happy. I diplomatically
secured a list of about twenty men who were being wrongfully
detained, and this was at once conveyed to Colonel Bowers. This was
my “Coup d’ état” in Washington; and I thought it a good time to
retire from hospital work and to return to my home for rest. Two
weeks later I saw by a Washington paper that all patients at this
hospital able to travel had been sent home, and a small remainder of
those still sick had been carried to Harewood Hospital, the former
hospital having ended its career.
I had hoped to meet General Grant’s Military Secretary, General Eli
Parker, who wrote the draft of the surrender of Appomattox. He was
said to have been of imposing appearance. He was chief of the Senecas
and of the Six Nations, and his Indian name was Donehogawa. When at
home on their reservation with their father, his sisters, who, when
in Washington, were among the cultured society of the Capitol, wore
the rich costumes of princesses of the tribe and were treated with
the homage due to their rank.
Thus ended my work in Washington for the “Boys in Blue.”