Read Ebook: Nurse and Spy in the Union Army The Adventures and Experiences of a Woman in Hospitals Camps and Battle-Fields by Edmonds S Emma E Sarah Emma Evelyn

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 390 lines and 96049 words, and 8 pages

Mutta sitten p?lk?hti h?nen p??h?ns?, ett? h?n varmaan n?ytteli hyvin naurettavaa osaa. Sen sijaan ett? olisi auttanut haavoissaan viruvia tuntui h?n ik??nkuin odottavan, ett? joku hyv?syd?minen kaveri tulisi ja korjaisi h?net. Juolahti mieleen vaimo, ja alkoi h?vet?. Rupesi kompuroimaan yl?s. Mutta juuri kun oli p??ssyt kontilleen, ?kk?si muutaman sylen p??ss? jonkun makaavan liikkumattomana maassa. No, siin? h?nell? nyt haavoitettu kuin taivaasta. Ja kas: yht?kki? h?n sai taas langanp??st? kiinni. T?m?h?n se juuri kuului h?nen virkaansa. Korjata haavoittuneita. Kuinkas h?n niin olikin tullut unhoittaneeksi koko asian.

Loi menness??n katseensa kannettavaansa. T?m?p? vasta nuori ja hintel?. Ihan poikanen. Ja kummallisinta oli, ettei "miehess?" n?kynyt naarmuakaan eik? liioin ainoatakaan veripilkkua. Mutta aivan kylm?n kohmettama t?m? oli. Ja mit?s ollakaan. P??sty??n kaupunginlaitaan juolahti Kulmalan p??h?n, ett? parin korttelin p??ss? h?nell? oli tuttava ty?l?isperhe. Mit?s jos veisikin "haavoittuneen" sinne -- l?hemp??n sitomapaikkaankin kun oli niin pitk? matka eik? hevosmiehi? n?kynyt miss??n. Ja ent?p?: jos "mies" ei ollutkaan haavoittunut. Tuumasta toimeen. Kantoi t?m?n tuttaviinsa. N?m? asuivatkin hyv?ss?, suojaisessa paikassa. "Haavoitettu" laskettiin keitti?n lattialle, ja nyt riisumaan t?t?. Ja kun potilas oli tarkkaan tutkittu, huomattiin, ettei h?ness? todellakaan ollut naarmuakaan, ja huomattiin viel? lis?ksi hieman muutakin, nimitt?in, ett? t?m? oli -- valkoisia, koulupojanr??hk?n? muudan. Mutta ent?s sitten? "Haavoitettu" kuin haavoitettu. Se punainenristi, seh?n on puolueeton, seh?n hoivaa kaikkia.

Alkoi pojan vinti? siit? hiljakseen tointua. Kauhistui ensin, kun huomasi olevansa "murhaajain ja rosvojen keskell?", mutta rauhoittui n?hdess??n, ett? h?nt? kannettiin kuin kukkaa k?mmenell?. Ja j?senten sulaessa virkistyi kielenkantakin ja nyt kertomaan kuinka h?n oli "houkuteltu" valkoisten matkaan ja kuinka h?nen sitten oli pit?nyt rynn?t?, h?nenkin, mutta tullut pelko housuun ja n??k?ht?nyt nietokseen, jolle tielle olisi j??nyt, ellei h?nt? olisi korjattu. Ja pitih?n h?nen sitten kiitollisuudesta viel? ?nkytell?, ett? oli nyt tullut paremmin "ymm?rt?m??n" koko asian ja ettei h?n "koskaan tule unohtamaan hyv?? ty?t? mik? h?nelle n?in oli tehty." J.n.e. Tiedet??nh?n mit? t?llaisessa tilanteessa passaa puhua. Ja kun oli virkistynyt -- siin? olikin vier?ht?nyt jo p?iv? iltapuoleen; punaiset olivat joutuneet tappiolle ja valkoiset olivat valloittaneet kaupungin --, niin l?ksi tiehens?. J?tti vain vahingossa coltpistoolinsa. Sen otti Kulmala muistoksi hengenpelastusty?st??n.

Oikeastaan voisimme jo hyv?ll? syyll? panna t?h?n pisteen, sill? kaikki mik? nyt seuraa on sit? tavallista. Mutta olkoon kuitenkin menneeksi:

Kulmala onnistui palaamaan kotiinsa. Mutta tiedettiinh?n, ett? h?n oli kuulunut punakaartiin. Sahan inspeht??ri oli paikallisen lahtarikunnan p??llikk?. H?n se noppi tuvat puhtaiksi. Saapui pyssymiesten kanssa Kulmalankin k?ns??n. L?ysi hyv?k?s viel? Coltinkin sielt?. Mies n?lk?leirille vain: mars!

Vaimo oli lohduton. Lapset parkuivat p?iv?t p??st??n. Kaikki oli lopussa. Viimeiset ruuant?hteet vietiin n?lk?? n?kev?lle is?lle. T?m? kiellettiin parahiksi, kun ei en?? olisikaan ollut mit??n viet?v??. Vaimo joutui lapsivuoteelle, lavantauti harvensi perheen.

Is? olisi vihdoin p??ssyt vapaaksi , mutta ei jaksanut odottaa niin kauan. Oli liiaksi remppaantunut, liiaksi kauan k?rsinyt n?lk?? jo kotona mutta varsinkin vankileirill?. Kaipasi liiaksi kelpo eukkoaan, kaipasi lapsiaan, suri tukkansa harmaaksi, ja t?it kalvoivat viimeisenkin energian rahdun. Kuoli.

Sovitti hengell??n suuren rikoksensa.

Sill? voitaisiinhan ly?d? vaikka vetoa, ett? valkoinen pojan vinti?, jonka onnettomasti p?iv?ns? p??tt?nyt yst?v?mme pelasti, jatkoi alkamaansa uraa, kun ensi kommelluksestaan p??si niin v?h?ll?. Oppi paremmin v?ist?m??n vaaraa, pysytteli rintaman selk?puolella, teki siell? sankaritekoja p??st?m?ll? p?ivilt? ty?l?isvankeja: seh?n oli ihan vaaratonta. Sai sitten vapaudenristin. Se kannusti uusiin urotekoihin. Meni Viroon. Suoritti hirmut?it? ja palasi takaisin mukanaan vaununlasti ry?st?saalista. Auttoi sitten sorrettua Karjalan kansaa jaloilleen: murhasi ja ry?sti. Kunnes kommunistisoturi katkaisi kantimet. P??sti p?ivilt? valkoisen ihannenuorukaistyypin. Mannerheim-kultapojan: monimurhaajan ja varkaan.

Jolloin tolkuttoman sahalaistoverimme tekem? suuri rikos vasta tuli lopullisesti hyvitetyksi. Mutta hyv? kun kerrankin.

HYMYILEV? PIRULLISUUS

Armas her?si silmi??n r?pytellen suuressa sairassalissa. S?hk?valo huikaisi silmi?, ja sieramia kutkutti eetterin, jodoformin ja lysoolin katku -- sairaalahaju.

Viereisess? vuoteessa heittelehti muudan kuumepotilas, ja jostakin kauimmaisesta kuului heikkoa vaikerrusta.

Mutta Armas oli aivan liiaksi heikko tunteakseen mit??n s??lin tai osanoton tunteita -- tunteakseen ylip??ns? mit??n muuta kuin ett? kaikki oli niin oudostuttavan ihmeellist?; avara sali, s?hk?lamput, pitk?t vuoderivit, hoitajattaren sipsutus, ja h?n itse -- heikkona, avuttomana, ik??nkuin yh? viel? unessa -- merkillist?!

H?n tunsi olevansa vasta oikein valveilla, kun typertyneiss? aivoissaan juolahti jokin ajatus kodista.

-- Kai siell? on nyt ?itimuori ik?viss??n, tuli h?n siin? tuumanneeksi, ja sitten alkoivat ajatukset hyppelehti? kuin oravat -- tuttuja ?sken elettyj? latuja.

Armas olisi naurahtanut, jos olisi jaksanut, muistaessaan mit? ?itins? oli sanonut, kun h?n oli ilmoittanut l?htev?ns? sotaan h?nkin.

-- Mit? siell? kakaroilla tehd??n! oli eukko yritt?nyt tiuskaten sanomaan. Mutta mieless? oli ollut tietenkin vallan toista: saisi sit? sent??n edes nuorin joukosta j??d? hauskuudeksi kotiin; ihanhan sit? j?tet??n "talo" kylmille.

Ja niin kylmille koti j?ikin, ettei enemm?st? v?li?: is? ja kaksi vanhempaa velje? ja sisar olivat l?hteneet jo ennemmin, ja lopuksi nyt h?nkin. Kummakos siin? sitten, jos ?itimuori v?h?n haikaili ja ky?kin puolella pyyhkieli esiliinansa kulmalla silm?nurkkaan erohetkell?. Mutta ei sent??n torunut. Sill? olihan naapuristakin l?hteneet kutka kynnelle kykeniv?t ja pitkin kyl?? joka m?kist?: kaikkialtahan oli kumousaalto viskannut raatajat punalippujen luo.

Ja niin oli Armaskin joutunut luokkasotaan, h?nkin "kakara".

Mutta h?nt? kohtasi kova onni. Jo ensim?isess? kahakassa p??ttyi h?nen sotauransa.

Mutta vaikka h?n nyt lep?sikin el?m?n ja kuoleman vaiheilla, oli h?nen kuitenkin omituisen hyv? olla. H?n tunsi tyydytyst?, ehk?p? samallaista kuin ?idit lapsivuoteella, jotka jopa henkens? alttiiksi antaen suorittavat jotakin tavattoman suurta: luovat uutta el?m??. Olihan h?n ep?r?im?tt? viskannut sielunsa ja ruumiinsa ajan vaakalaudalle, sy?ssyt suin p?in kohti vihollisen tulta hennolla ruumiillaan suojellakseen iskuilta luokkaansa, sen turvattomia ?itej?, sen turvattomia tytt?ri?, sen turvattomia lapsia, ja osaltaan nostaakseen sen k?rsimysten alhosta valoisampaan vastaisuuteen, uuteen inhimilliseen el?m??n.

Niin... Ja sitten: eih?n h?nell? ollut mit??n valittamista, h?nt?h?n kohdeltiin niin erinomaisen hyvin. Olihan h?n p??ssyt oikein herrasv?en sairaalaan.

Kuinka usein h?n olikaan kuullut ja itsekin lausunut kovia sanoja paremmista ihmisist?. Ja nyt: nyt olivat n?m? ottaneet h?net ja paljon muita punasotilaita hoitoonsa -- n?ytt?neet, ett? he ainakin laupeudenty?ss? olivat puolueettomia, t?ysin inhimillisi?. L??k?rit olivat my?t?mielisi?, hoitajattaret hyv?ntahtoisia, ja varsinkin Armaksen hoitajatar oli kuin herran enkeli: aina sama hymy huulilla, aina samat vieh?tt?v?t kuopat poskusilla. Se ei ollut kyll? sit? samaa, mik? oli karehtinut h?nen ?itins? huulilla tai leikkinyt siskon suupieliss?, mutta hoitajatar, h?nh?n oli toki ventovieras ihminen, herraskaisia, ja kuitenkin hymyili t?m? h?nelle -- punasotilaalle, joita paremmat ihmiset muuten vihasivat niin syv?sti.

Kummakos siis, jos Armaksesta heikkoudestaan huolimatta tuntui aika hyv?lt? lojuessaan siin? valoisan sairassalin avarassa vuoteessa ja v?syneill? aivoillaan jauhaessaan vastik??n kokemiaan ja paraikaa el?mi??n merkillisi? seikkoja.

Mutta kaupunki oli silloin punaisten hallussa, eik? Armas tiennyt miss? m??rin yl?luokan hyv?ntahtoisuus punasotilaita kohtaan, miss? m??rin herrasenkelien suopeus riippui sotilaallisesta asemasta.

Mutta siit? p??si h?n pian selvile wing of advancing death cast upon his features, and eagerly looking for a single ray of returning reason. He looked up suddenly, and seeing his wife standing weeping, he beckoned her to come to him. Kneeling beside him, she bent her ear close to the lips of the dying man. He whispered distinctly, "I am going--the way is bright, don't weep--farewell!" A little later he was asked, "What is the foundation of your hope of Heaven?" His face was calm and beautiful in its expression, and his splendid dark eyes lit up with holy confidence and trust, as he replied, "Christ--Christ!" These were his last words. Glorious words for a dying soldier. He lingered a few hours, and then quietly and peacefully breathed out his life. So passed away one of the most exemplary men it has ever been my lot to meet, either in the army or elsewhere. The same day, the sorrowing widow, with the remains of her beloved and noble husband, started for her northern home; and that christian patriot now sleeps in a beautiful little cemetery near the city of Detroit, Michigan, having rendered up his life a willing sacrifice for his country.

Mrs. B. was desirous of visiting some of the public buildings in Washington and wished me to accompany her. I did so, but found that it was almost impossible to get along through the crowded streets. The gallant troops were coming in by thousands from every loyal State in the Union. The Capitol and White House were common places of resort for soldiers. Arms were stacked in the rotunda of the one and the lobbies of the other, while our "noble boys in blue" lounged in the cushioned seats of members of Congress, or reclined in easy chairs in the President's Mansion.

Camps of instruction were prepared near the city, while every hillside and valley for miles around was thickly dotted with snow white tents. Soldiers drilling, fatigue parties building forts, artillery practicing, and the supply trains moving to and from the various headquarters, presented a picture deeply interesting. As I rode from camp to camp and contemplated that immense army concentrating its force on the banks of the Potomac, and saw with what zeal and enthusiasm the soldiers entered upon their duties, I could but feel assured of the speedy termination of the conflict, and look forward with eager anticipation to the day when that mighty host would advance upon the enemy, and like an overwhelming torrent sweep rebellion from the land.

MARCHING ORDERS--REMOVAL OF THE SICK--A YOUNG PATIENT--VISIT FROM HIS MOTHER--MARCH TOWARD MANASSAS--COLLECTING SUPPLIES--FATIGUES OF THE MARCH--PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE--A CAMP PRAYER MEETING--DIVISIONS DETAILED--MY PLACE ON THE FIELD--"RATHER CLOSE QUARTERS"--A BATTLE SUNDAY--SKULKING FROM THE FIELD.

Marching orders received to-day--two days more, and the Army of the Potomac will be on its way to Bull Run. I find this registered in my journal July 15th, 1861, without any comment whatever. But I do not require a journal to refresh my memory with regard to the events of those two days of preparation which followed their announcement. The Army of the Potomac was soon to meet the enemy for the first time--a great battle was to be fought. Oh, what excitement and enthusiasm that order produced--nothing could be heard but the wild cheering of the men, as regiment after regiment received their orders. The possibility of a defeat never seemed to enter the mind of any. All the sick in camp now were to be sent to Washington, clothes changed, knapsacks packed, letters written home, packages sent to the express office, etc. After all was done, everything in readiness, and the sick men tenderly laid in the ambulances, Mrs. B. said: "Now let us go to every ambulance and bid the boys good-bye." As we passed along from one ambulance to another, speaking words of encouragement to each soldier, many a tear would start from grateful eyes, and many a feeble voice uttered an earnest "God bless you," while others would draw from their bosoms some cherished relic, and give as a token of remembrance. Oh how hard it was to part with those men, with whom we had watched so many weary days and nights--we felt that they had, truly, "become endeared to us through suffering."

There was one patient, however, we did not put into an ambulance, and who was a great source of anxiety to us. He lay there upon a stretcher close by, waiting to be carried to a house not far distant. He was young, not seventeen, with clear blue eyes, curly auburn hair, and a broad, white brow; his mother's pride, and an only son. Two weeks previously he had been attacked with typhoid fever. The surgeon said, "You may do all you can for him, but it is a hopeless case." Mrs. B. had devoted most of her time to him and I was often called to assist her. He was delirious and became quite unmanageable at times, and it required all the strength we possessed to keep him in bed; but now the delirium of fever had passed away and he was helpless as an infant. We had written for his mother to come if possible, and had just received a letter from her, stating that she was on her way to Washington; but would she come before we were obliged to leave? Oh, we hoped so, and were anxiously looking for her.

The ambulances started with their freight of emaciated, suffering men. Slowly that long train wound its way toward the city looking like a great funeral procession, and sadly we turned to our remaining patient, who was deeply affected at the removal of his comrades. He was then carried to the house above mentioned and a nurse left to take care of him, while we were obliged to prepare for our own comfort on the long weary march which was so near at hand. We had just commenced to pack our saddle-bags, when we heard an unusual noise, as of some one crying piteously, and going out to learn the cause of the excitement, whom should we find but the mother of our handsome blue-eyed patient. She had called at the surgeon's tent to inquire for her son, and he had told her that all the sick had been sent to Washington, he having forgotten for the moment, the exception with regard to her son. The first words I heard were spoken in the most touching manner--"Oh, why did you send away my boy? I wrote you I was coming; Oh, why did you send him away!"

I shall never forget the expression of that mother's face as she stood there wringing her hands and repeating the question. We very soon rectified the mistake which the surgeon had made, and in a few moments she was kneeling by the bedside of her darling boy, and we returned rejoicing that it had been our privilege to "deliver him to his mother." Oh, how many, who come to Washington in search of loved ones, are caused unnecessary pain, yes, weeks of torturing suspense and fruitless search, in consequence of some little mistake on the part of a surgeon, a nurse, or some person who is supposed to know just where the sought for are to be found.

The 17th of July dawned bright and clear, and everything being in readiness, the Army of the Potomac took up its line of march for Manassas. In gay spirits the army moved forward, the air resounding with the music of the regimental bands, and patriotic songs of the soldiers. No gloomy forebodings seemed to damp the spirits of the men, for a moment, but "On to Richmond," was echoed and re-echoed, as that vast army moved rapidly over the country. I felt strangely out of harmony with the wild, joyous spirit which pervaded the troops. As I rode slowly along, watching those long lines of bayonets as they gleamed and flashed in the sunlight, I thought that many, very many, of those enthusiastic men who appeared so eager to meet the enemy, would never return to relate the success or defeat of that splendid army. Even if victory should perch upon their banners, and I had no doubt it would, yet many noble lives must be sacrificed ere it could be obtained.

The whole neighborhood was ransacked for milk, butter, eggs, poultry, etc. which were found insufficient in quantity to supply the wants of such a multitude. There might have been heard some stray shots fired in the direction of a field where a drove of cattle were quietly grazing; and soon after the odor of fresh steak was issuing from every part of the camp. I wish to state, however, that all "raids" made upon hen-coops, etc. were contrary to the orders of the General in command, for during the day I had seen men put under arrest for shooting chickens by the roadside.

I was amused to hear the answer of a hopeful young darkey cook, when interrogated with regard to the broiled chickens and beef steak which he brought on for supper. Col. R. demanded, in a very stern voice, "Jack, where did you get that beef steak and those chickens?" "Massa, I'se carried dem cl'ar from Washington; thought I'd cook 'em 'fore dey sp'il'd"; and then added, with a broad grin, "I aint no thief, I aint." Col. R. replied: "That will do, Jack, you can go now." Then the Colonel told us how he had seen Jack running out of a house, as he rode along, and a woman ran out calling after him with all her might, but Jack never looked behind him, but escaped as fast as he could, and was soon out of sight. Said he, "I thought the young rascal had been up to some mischief, so I rode up and asked the woman what was the matter, and found he had stolen all her chickens; I asked her how much they were worth; she "reckoned" about two dollars. I think she made a pretty good hit, for after I paid her, she told me she had had only two chickens." Supper being over, pickets posted, and camp guards detailed, all became quiet for the night.

Early the next morning the reveille beat, the whole camp was soon in motion, and after a slight breakfast from our haversacks the march was resumed. The day was very hot, and we found great difficulty in obtaining water, the want of which caused the troops much suffering. Many of the men were sun-struck, and others began to drop out of the ranks from exhaustion. All such as were not able to march were put into ambulances and sent back to Washington. Toward noon, the tedium of the march began to be enlivened by sharp volleys of musketry, in the direction of the advance guard; but those alarms were only occasioned by our skirmishers, pouring a volley into everything which looked as if it might contain a masked battery, or a band of the enemy's sharpshooters.

Considerable excitement prevailed throughout the day, as we were every hour in expectation of meeting the enemy. Carefully feeling its way, however, the army moved steadily on, investigating every field, building, and ravine, for miles in front and to the right and left, until it reached Centerville, where we halted for the night.

The troops now began to feel the effects of the march, and there was evidently a lack of that pic-nic hilarity which had characterized them the day before. Several regiments had been supplied with new shoes the day before leaving camp, and they found by sad experience, that they were not the most comfortable things to march in, as their poor blistered feet testified; in many cases their feet were literally raw, the thick woolen stockings having chafed the skin off. Mrs. B. and I, having provided ourselves before leaving camp, with a quantity of linen, bandages, lint, ointment, etc. found it very convenient now, even before a shot had been fired by the enemy.

Our surgeons began to prepare for the coming battle, by appropriating several buildings and fitting them up for the wounded--among others the stone church at Centerville--a church which many a soldier will remember, as long as memory lasts. Late that evening as I was returning from this church, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. B., I proposed that we should walk through the entire camp to see how the boys were employed, on this, the eve of their first battle. We found many engaged in writing by the glimmering light of the camp-fire--soldiers always carry writing materials on a march; some were reading their bibles, perhaps with more than usual interest; while others sat in groups, conversing in low earnest tones; but the great mass were stretched upon the ground, wrapped in their blankets, fast asleep, and all unconscious of the dangers of the morrow.

We were about to return to our quarters in a log cabin built by the rebel soldiers, and which had been evacuated only a few days previous, when we heard several voices singing in a little grove not far from camp. We turned and walked toward the grove, until we could hear distinctly, the words of the following beautiful hymn:

"O, for a faith that will not shrink, Though press'd by every foe, That will not tremble on the brink Of any earthly woe;

That will not murmur or complain Beneath the chastening rod, But, in the hour of grief and pain, Will lean upon its God;

A faith that shines more bright and clear When tempests rage without; That, when in danger, knows no fear, In darkness knows no doubt."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. B., "I recognize Willie L.'s voice there. I understand now; this is Willie's prayer meeting night, and notwithstanding the fatigue of the march and blistered feet, he has not forgotten it." We drew nearer to listen to and enjoy the exercises unperceived, for no sooner had the last words of the hymn died away on the still midnight air, than Willie's clear voice rose in prayer, filling the grove with its rich, pathetic tones. He prayed for victory on the morrow, for his comrades, for loved ones at home, and his voice grew tremulous with emotion, as he plead with the Saviour to comfort and support his widowed mother, if he should fall in battle.

Then followed a practical talk about being faithful soldiers of Jesus, as well as of their beloved country; of the necessity of being prepared at any moment, to lay down the cross and take up the crown. One after another prayed and spoke, until about a dozen--and that included the whole number present--had addressed the Throne of Grace, and testified to the power of the Gospel of Christ in the salvation of sinners. No one was called upon to pray or speak, no one said he had nothing to say and then talked long enough to prove it, no one excused his inability to interest his brethren, and no time was lost by delay, but every one did his duty, and did it promptly. We retired feeling refreshed and encouraged.

After ascertaining the position of the enemy, Gen. McDowell ordered forward three divisions, commanded by Heintzelman, Hunter and Tyler, Miles being left in reserve at Centerville. Sunday morning before dawn, those three divisions moved forward, presenting a magnificent spectacle, as column after column wound its way over the green hills and through the hazy valleys, with the soft moonlight falling on the long lines of shining steel. Not a drum or bugle was heard during the march, and the deep silence was only broken by the rumbling of artillery, the muffled tread of infantry, or the low hum of thousands of subdued voices.

The divisions separated where three roads branch off toward Bull Run, each taking the road leading to its respective position. Soon the morning broke bright and clear, bringing the two contending armies in plain sight of each other. The enemy was posted on heights that rose in regular slopes from the shore crowned here and there by earthworks. The woods that interfered with his cannon ranges had all been cut away, and his guns had a clean sweep of every approach. On our side the descent was more gradual, and covered with a dense forest. The roar of artillery soon announced that the battle had actually commenced.

Mrs. B. and myself took our position on the field, according to orders, in connection with Gen. Heintzelman's division, having delivered our horses to Jack for safe keeping, with strict orders to remain where he was, for we might require them at any moment. I imagine now, I see Mrs. B., as she stood there, looking as brave as possible, with her narrow brimmed leghorn hat, black cloth riding habit, shortened to walking length by the use of a page, a silver-mounted seven-shooter in her belt, a canteen of water swung over one shoulder and a flask of brandy over the other, and a haversack with provision, lint, bandages, adhesive plaster, etc. hanging by her side. She was tall and slender, with dark brown hair, pale face, and blue eyes.

Chaplain B. sat upon his horse looking as solemn as if standing face to face with the angel of death. The first man I saw killed was a gunner belonging to Col. R.'s command. A shell had burst in the midst of the battery, killing one and wounding three men and two horses. Mr. B. jumped from his horse, hitched it to a tree, and ran forward to the battery; Mrs. B. and I following his example as fast as we could. I stooped over one of the wounded, who lay upon his face weltering in his blood; I raised his head, and who should it be but Willie L. He was mortally wounded in the breast, and the tide of life was fast ebbing away; the stretchers were soon brought, and he was carried from the field.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet