t them from out such cavernous gloom! I talked hopefully,
worked and walked, while mentally exclaiming:
"Oh, God! What shall I do?"
About nine o'clock Dr. Porter, Division Surgeon, came with Georgie, to
take us to our quarters. These were but half a block away, on the same
side of the street, but on the opposite side, and corner of the next
cross-street, in a nice two-story brick house, with a small yard in
front. An old lady answered his summons, but refused to admit us: when
he insisted and I interposed, saying the lady was afraid of soldiers,
but would admit us. We would bid him good night, and soon our lodgings
would be all right.
She was relieved, took us in, cooked our rations for herself and us,
gave us a comfortable bed, and was uniformly kind all the time we
staid, and seemed sorry to have us leave.
I spoke the first night to Dr. Porter about blankets and straw, or hay
for beds, but was assured that none were to be had. Supplies could not
reach them since being cut off from their base, and the Provost Marshal,
Gen. Patrick, would not permit anything to be taken out of the houses,
though many of them were unoccupied, and well supplied with bedding and
other necessaries. I thought we ought to get two blankets for those two
naked men, if the Government should pay their weight in gold for them;
and suggested that the surgeons take what was necessary for the comfort
of the men, and give vouchers to the owners. I knew such claims would be
honored; would see that they should be; but he said the matter had been
settled by the Provost, and nothing more could be done.
It seems to me now that I must have been benumbed, or I could have done
something to provide covering for those men. I did think of giving one
of them my shawl, but I must have died without it. I remembered my
Douglas Hospital letter, and knew that Gen. Patrick could order me out
of Fredericksburg, and leave these men to rot in the old theater.
Already their wounds were infested by worms, which gnawed and tormented
them; some of those wounds were turning black, many were green; the
vitality of the men was sinking for want of food and warmth. I could not
forsake them to look after reform; would not fail to do what I could, in
an effort to do what I could not or might not accomplish.
In the morning I saw that the men had something they called coffee, and
found canned milk for it, which was nourishment; but a new difficulty
arose. The men who broug
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