bed to spare in either of the hospitals. Negotiations were at once
opened for the only church in Ringgold not already occupied by the
sick. The people declined to give it up. But, "necessity knows no
law;" it was seized by Dr. Thornton, the pews being taken out and
piled up in the yard. Fires were then kindled in both stoves to
thoroughly warm the church. There was, however, not a single bunk,--no
time to make any; all the empty ticks when filled with straw and
placed upon the floor fell far short of the number required. For the
rest straw was littered down as if for horses, and when the pillows
gave out, head-rests were made by tearing off the backs of the pews
and nailing them slantwise from the base-board to the floor, so that
knapsacks, coats, etc., could be used for pillows.
The order had reached Ringgold about noon; it was ten at night before
the rough preparations were completed. Meantime, such nourishment as
hot soup, coffee, and tea, milk, egg-nog, and milk-punch (prepared
with home-made peach or apple brandy), were kept in readiness. Near
midnight I stood in the church awaiting the arrival of the train.
Candles were scarce, but light-wood-fires outside gave sufficient
light. The candles were not to be used until needed by the surgeons,
who were now at the depot waiting to receive the sick. At last the
train arrived,--departed; shortly thereafter there poured through the
doors of that little church a train of human misery such as I never
saw before or afterward during the war, and pray God I may never see
again. Until that night the tale of the retreat from Moscow had seemed
to me overdrawn; ever since I can well believe "the half has not been
told." They came, each revealing some form of acute disease, some
tottering, but still on their feet, others borne on stretchers.
Exhausted by forced marches over interminable miles of frozen ground
or jagged rocks, destitute of rations, discouraged by failure, these
poor fellows had cast away one burden after another until they had not
clothes sufficient to shield them from the chilling blasts of winter.
Not one in twenty had saved even a haversack, many having discarded
coats and jackets. One man had gained possession of an india-rubber
overcoat, which, excepting his underclothing, was his only garment.
Barefooted,--their feet were swollen frightfully, and seamed with
fissures so large that one might lay a finger in them. These were
dreadfully inflamed, and bled at the
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