Kate Cumming: A Journal of Hospital Life in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

January 4.—We have had another battle—fought on Friday, the 2d. I believe we made the attack, and were repulsed with heavy loss. It is reported that our army is falling back. I hope this is not true, although we can scarcely expect to cope successfully with the enemy, as, comparatively speaking, our army is small, and we have the very flower of the northern army and one of their best generals to contend with. From what I have heard judges say, we ought to be satisfied if we can only hold our own.

We have about five hundred wounded prisoners in the hospital. They have their own surgeons with them. I saw some of the latter dressing their wounded, and was not a little shocked at the roughness with which they did it. Neither Mrs. W. or myself have visited any of them, as we are totally unable to go into the wards. They receive exactly the same food and attention that our men do. 1 have spoken to some who were walking about. They were Germans, and I am told the majority of them here are.

January 3.—The wounded kept coming in last night, till 12 o’clock. Every corner of the hospital is filled with patients, and the attendants had to give up their beds for them. None but slightly wounded are brought here, but they are bad enough. Many have to be carried from the ambulances, as they are unable to walk. We have sent off a great many to-day, to make room for others who will be in to-night. All that I or Mrs. W. have been able to do for them is to see that they get enough to eat. Bread, beef, and coffee are all we have to give them; they are thankful for that. Our cooks have been up for two or three nights in succession; the surgeons and nurses the same. I would not be surprised if they were all sick; they have so much to do.

I am told that the ladies of the place go down to the train every night with hot coffee and all kinds of refreshments for the wounded.

January 2, 1863. [Chattanooga] —Another year has commenced, alas! with bloodshed. When will it cease? I ask that question with nothing but echo for my answer. The North is putting forth all its energies to try and subjugate us, and seems determined to do its worst. May the God of hosts be with us!

A battle was fought at Murfreesboro on the 31st ultimo. We have come out of it victorious. Thousands of the enemy have been slain and wounded. We have taken upward of four thousand prisoners, and spoils of all kinds; but I can scarcely rejoice, for our wounded are coming in by the hundreds, and we have to witness the same sad spectacle as ever on such occasions. The weather is very cold, and I shudder to think what our men have had to suffer on the battle-field.

Our hospital is filled with wounded. Mrs. W. and myself are not able to do any thing for them. Dr. Thornton is sick. Dr. Hopping fills his place. I am anxious about my brother.

December 31. [Chattanooga] —The last day of 1862— how teeming with wonderful events has been the past year!

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“How many precious souls have fled

To the vast regions of the dead,

Since to this day the changing sun

Through his last yearly period run.”

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The South has suffered, O, how terribly! Thousands and tens of thousands of precious lives have been sacrificed to the god of war. In every state of our beloved land there has been a temple erected to the insatiate Moloch. This is not all: women and children have been left homeless, and driven out into the pitiless storm, and even the bitterest frowns of nature have had more kindness in them than the hearts of our ruthless invaders. The inspired bard of Scotia has graphically described our case:

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“Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust!

And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost!

Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows!

Not all your rage, as now, united shows

More hard unkindness, unrelenting,

Vengeful malice unrelenting,

Than heav’n-illum’d man on brother man bestows;

See stern oppression’s iron grip,

On mad ambition’s gory hand,

Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip,

Woe, want, and murder o’er our land!

E’en in the peaceful rural vale,

Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale.

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How hard it is to think of all this, knowing that the above is an “owre true tale,” without feeling hate, bitter hate, toward those who are the cause of it! We were more than mortal were it otherwise, but I trust that with it all we will leave vengeance to Him to whom it belongs.

Amid all this suffering the star of hope for our cause shines brighter and brighter, although in the West we have lost much territory. Our armies are improving every way. They are better clad and better fed than they were. We have much sickness, but nothing to what we have had.

Life in camp has improved, physically and morally. The medical department has also improved. Surgeons have to be thoroughly examined before receiving commissions. Congress has passed a law, making provision for ladies (where they can be had) to take charge of the domestic arrangements in hospitals.

Manufactories have arisen where before the war they were not known. Women, who thought such things impossible, are making shoes and knitting-socks. In every farm-house the spinning-wheel and loom is heard. Fields are teeming with grain, where once grew cotton and tobacco. We have enough vessels running the blockade to keep us in tea and coffee, and cattle from Texas to keep us in beef. In fact, if the war lasts much longer, we will be the most independent people in the world.

Although we have lost many great and good men, numbers have risen to take their place. The foe have work yet before them; they have to conquer Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, Hill, and a host of others in Virginia, with their invincible armies.

Beauregard at Charleston; Hindman and Price in the far west; the ubiquitous Morgan; and last, though by no means least, the army of Tennessee, and its veteran commanders, Johnston and Bragg. I have not forgotten noble little Vicksburg and her heroic defenders; with these and God’s blessing, I trust that the time is not far distant, when dove-eyed peace will hover o’er our now distracted land.

Mr. Burgess, a member of the battery my brother is in, called this evening and left some money for Mrs. W., a Christmas donation from Mrs. Otis of Mobile. It is rumored a battle has commenced at Murfreesboro. May God give us the victory!

December 30. [Chattanooga] — Have just recovered from a severe spell of sickness. I received much kindness from one and all, for which I am sincerely grateful. I suffered much, and thought often about the sick men, and my admiration rose more and more for their fortitude and patience.

I have received a number of letters from home, telling me about Christmas, and how unlike what it was before the war; but my folks say that all in Mobile are very thankful they are permitted to remain in peace, for they fully expected that by this time the enemy would be thundering at their ports. They also say that many there are making fortunes, and living as if there was no war. I am told it is the same in all large cities. There is no use worrying about these things. I expect all will come out right, and that there are enough self-sacrificing people in the land to save it.

The haughty foe has had another “On to Richmond,” and been repulsed; Virginia has been again drenched with the blood of martyrs—Fredericksburg, another of her fair cities, laid in ruins. North Carolina has also suffered. Williamston and Hamilton have been completely sacked. Women and children are driven out without shelter, while their homes are laid in ruins. Well, these things will not always last. There is a day of retribution for the northern people.

December 9. [Chattanooga] —Received a box of bitter oranges from Mobile. I think they are a very good substitute for lemons.

The home folks are very despondent, and seem to think we are going to starve. I trust not; but it is wonderful how we manage to get along, hemmed in as we are, and the whole world arrayed against us; but were it not for the foes at home, the speculators, we would not be in want.

Have just received a lot of clothing, in the way of shirts and drawers, and some spices, from Dr. Young. They were sent to him by the ladies of Wetumpka, Alabama, for troops from that state; he also sent a number of Bibles, which are much needed.

December 8. [Chattanooga] —More smoke. We have a grate in our room, but the chimney smokes so badly we find it impossible to have fire in it, and the weather is so cold I am fearful Mrs. W. will take sick again, and that I will share her fate. In despair, I went to see if Mrs. Brooks could not furnish me with a stove. She had none. There I met Mrs. General J. E. Johnston, who is stopping at Mrs. B.’s. She is a noble-looking woman, and has fine conversational powers. The general has gone to the front, and I am told is much pleased with the state of the army. He intends making his head-quarters here.

I then called on Mrs. Brewer, who gave me a very nice stove, for which she would take no money. Mrs. B. said, to give it was a pleasure, as it was for the hospital.

December 5.—General Joseph E. Johnston is now in command of this department. With the change all seem pleased.

We have a patient, who is a prisoner in the guard-house, Captain Thatcher of St. Louis, Mo. He is to be tried as a traitor. As yet I have not seen him, but send him what is ordered. He sent me a Confederate star and a note of thanks for what little I had done for him. I sincerely trust he is not guilty.

Dr. Abernethy has been appointed house surgeon; Dr. P. Thornton is now in charge. He is a nephew of Judge T. of Mississippi, and seems very much of a gentleman.

December 3. [Chattanooga] —Mrs. Brewer sent me a beautiful cactus. She must have known how fond I was of flowers; it was a great treat.

I had a good laugh to-day at something I saw in one of our papers; it was a hit at my present employment. It is too good to be lost, and worthy of record: Scene in hospital. Lady (at bedside of a sick soldier). How do you do? Is there any thing you want?

Soldier (curtly). No; I believe not.

Lady. Is there nothing I can do for you?

Soldier (with anxiety). No; I think not.

Lady. O, I do want to do something for you! Can’t I wash your hands and face?

Soldier (resignedly). Well, if you want to, right bad, I reckon you can; but if you do you will be the fourteenth lady who has done so this morning!

None of the men in Chattanooga will be distressed as this poor fellow was, as the ladies here are not at all lavish with their favors.

Have had a good deal of rain lately, and the weather is very cold. We are having clothes made for the hospital by women whose husbands are in the army. They are very poor, and have to support their children and selves as best they can.