January 6th, 1864.
It has snowed all day, and the night is fearfully cold, but in our new quarters we feel it not.
This has been a day of unusual excitement in Knoxville. A legal murder has been committed in public.
In other words, a Rebel spy has been executed. His name is Dodd, of the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry. I did not witness the execution. I did not feel like it. I saw the procession as it passed my door. First, a regiment of soldiers; next a cart with the victim sitting on his coffin; behind, another regiment, with fixed bayonets. On each side, the street was crowded with men and women, eager to see a fellow mortal die. I am forced to see enough of human misery. Would God I might never see more. Oh, this cruel, murderous war! Will it never end? Perhaps, when political intrigue can keep it going no longer.
Knoxville, Tenn., January 6th, 1864.
It is a serious thing to have the care of sick and wounded men. They are like children—fretful, impatient, exacting. I was a stranger to all but one when I came here; now I count my friends by scores. I endeavored to do my duty. My patients soon discovered this, and I do not lack employment. There is one old fellow—a Massachusetts man—wounded through the cheeks. He is as cross as a grizzly, ferocious as a hyena. The nurses can do nothing with him. He cannot talk plain, and if they do not understand the first time, he flies into a rage and curses them soundly. The first time he called on me to dress his wound he snatched the dish from my hand, saying he wanted some one to do it who understood it. I said nothing, but let him do it himself. The next day he asked me to warm some water to dress his wound. “No,” said I, “I will have nothing to do with you until you can treat me as one man should treat another. When that time comes I will do all I can for you, willingly, cheerfully.” In a day or two he came to me and asked, very civilly, if I would try and get him some tea, as his mouth was so bad he could eat nothing. “With pleasure,” said I. From that day he is my fast friend. The boys call him “the boss’s pet tiger.
