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

Sunday, April 13.—Enjoyed a very good night’s rest upon some boxes. We all slept below stairs, in the front room— our baggage separating us from the front part of it, which is the clerk’s office, and sleeping apartment of some dozen men. It was a laughable sight to see Father Miller fixing our beds for us. Poor man! He tried so hard to make us comfortable. Some slept on shelves. I slept so soundly that I did not even dream, as I was completely worn out with the labor of the day. I could realize how, after a hard day’s marching or fighting, a soldier can throw himself upon the ground, and sleep as soundly as if he was on a bed of down. A number of persons arrived last night, looking for their relations. One very pretty lady, with her parents, is in search of her husband, a colonel, who is reported badly wounded. I have since heard that she has found him at a farmhouse, and ho is much better off than she had been informed. Her mother, on leaving, presented me with some very nice sperm-candles.

I have just seen my brother. He looks rather the “worse for wear.” But, thank God, he is safe! This was his first battle, and I have been told that “he was brave to a fault.” The company distinguished itself on that eventful day; and Mobile may well be proud of the gallant men who compose it.

I have been told by a friend that the night of the first day’s battle he passed by a wounded Federal, who requested him to bring him some water from a spring near. On going to it, he was much shocked to see three Federals lying with their heads in it. They had dragged themselves to the spring to slake their thirst, and there they had breathed their last. There is no end to the tales of horror related about the battlefield. They fill me with dismay.

“O shame to men! Devil with Devil damn’d

Firm concord holds; men only disagree,

Of creatures rational, though under hope

Of heavenly grace: and, God proclaiming peace,

Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife

Among themselves, and levy cruel wars,

Wasting the earth, each other to destroy:

As if (which might induce us to accord)

Man has not hellish foes enow besides,

That, day and night, for his destruction wait.”

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The confusion and want of order are as great as ever. A great many doctors are here, who came with the men from the different regiments. The amount of good done is not near what it might be, if things were better managed. Some one is to blame for this state of affairs. Many say that it is the fault of Dr. Foard, the medical director. But I suppose that allowance must be made for the unexpected number of wounded. I trust that in a little time things will be better.

One of the doctors, named Little, of Alabama, told me to-day that he had left his young wife on his plantation, with more than a hundred negroes upon it, and no white man but the overseer. He had told the negroes, before he left, if they desired to leave, they could do so when they pleased. He was certain that not more than one or two would go.

I have conversed with some of the wounded prisoners. One of them, quite a young man, named Nott, is very talkative. He says that he dislikes Lincoln and abolitionism as much as we do; declares that he is fighting to save the Union, and nothing more. All of them say the same thing. What a glorious Union it would be!

Quite a number of bunks arrived today, and we are having the most severely wounded placed on them. I am so glad, as we can have some of the filth taken off the floors. A doctor requested me to go down stairs and see if there was a bunk with a Federal upon it, and if so have him taken off, as he had a badly wounded man that needed one. I went and asked Mrs. Royal, from Mobile, whom I had heard talk very bitterly. She knew of one, but would not tell me where it was. Her true woman’s nature showed itself, in spite of her dislike. Seeing an enemy wounded and helpless is a different thing from seeing him in health and in power. The first time that I saw one in this condition every feeling of enmity vanished at once. I was curious to find out who the Federal was, and, as Mrs. R. would not tell me, I wont in search of him. I found him with but little trouble; went to the men who were upon the bunks, and asked them where they were from. One, quite a youth, with a childish face, told me that he was from Illinois. I knew in a moment that he was the one. I asked him about his mother, and why he had ever left her. Tears filled his eyes, and his lips quivered so that he was unable to speak. I was deeply moved myself, spoke a few words of comfort, and left him. I would not have had him give up his bunk for the world. Poor child! there will be a terrible day of reckoning for those who sent you on your errand, and who are the cause of desolating so many hearts and homes.

As I was passing one of the rooms, a man called me, and begged me to do something for him and others who were with him. No one had been to see them that morning, and they had had no breakfast. I gave them something to eat, and got a nurse to take care of them. About eight were in the room, among them Mr. Regan of Alabama and Mr. Eli Wasson of Texas, both of whom had lost a leg. I paid these special attention, as they were worse than the others. They were very grateful, and thanked me all the time. Mr. W. said that he knew that he would get well now. They are both unmarried, and talk much of their mothers and sisters, as all men do now. “Home, sweet home,” is the dearest spot on earth to them, since they are deprived of its comforts. Mother, wife, and sister seem to be sweeter to them than any words in the English language.

We eat in the kitchen, surgeons and all. It is not the cleanest place in the world, and I think, to use a Scotch phrase, would make even Mrs. McClarty “think shame.” Hunger is a good antidote for even dirt. I am aware that few will think so except those who have tried it.

April 12.—I sat up all night, bathing the men’s wounds, and giving them water. Every one attending to them seemed completely worn out. Some of the doctors told me that they had scarcely slept since the battle. As far as I have seen, the surgeons are very kind to the wounded, and nurse as well as doctor them.

The men are lying all over the house, on their blankets, just as they were brought from the battle-field. They are in the hall, on the gallery, and crowded into very small rooms. The foul air from this mass of human beings at first made me giddy and sick, but I soon got over it. We have to walk, and when we give the men any thing kneel, in blood and water; but we think nothing of it at all. There was much suffering among the patients last night; one old man groaned all the time. He was about sixty years of age, and had lost a leg. He lived near Corinth, and had come there the morning of the battle to see his two sons, who were in the army, and he could not resist shouldering his musket and going into the fight. I comforted him as well as I could. He is a religious man, and prayed nearly all night.

Another, a very young man, was wounded in the leg and through the lungs, had a most excruciating cough, and seemed to suffer awfully. One fine-looking man had a dreadful wound in the shoulder. Every time I bathed it he thanked me, and seemed grateful. He died this morning before breakfast. Men who were in the room with him told me that he prayed all night. I trust that he is now at rest, far from this dreary world of strife and bloodshed. I could fill whole pages with descriptions of the scenes before me.

Other ladies have their special patients, whom they never leave. One of them, from Natchez, Miss., has been constantly by a young man, badly wounded, ever since she came here, and the doctors say that she has been the means of saving his life. Many of the others are doing the same. Mrs. Ogden and the Mobile ladies are below stairs. I have not even time to speak to them. Mr. Miller is doing much good; he is comforting the suffering and dying, and has already baptized some.

This morning, when passing the front door, a man asked me if I had any thing to eat, which I could give to some men at the depot awaiting transportation on the cars. He said that they had eaten nothing for some days. Some of the ladies assisting me, we took them hot coffee, bread, and meat. The poor fellows ate eagerly, and seemed so thankful. One of the men, who was taking care of them, asked me where I was from. When I replied Mobile, he said that Mobile was the best place in the Confederacy. He was a member of the Twenty-first Alabama Regiment; I have forgotten his name. I have been busy all day, and can scarcely tell what I have been doing; I have not taken time even to eat, and certainly not time to sit down. There seems to be no order. All do as they please. We have men for nurses, and the doctors complain very much at the manner in which they are appointed; they are detailed from the different regiments, like guards. We have a new set every few hours. I can not see how it is possible for them to take proper care of the men, as nursing is a thing that has to be learned, and we should select our best men for it—the best, not physically, but morally—as I am certain that none but good, conscientious persons will ever do justice to the patients

April 11.—Miss Booth and myself arrived at Corinth to-day. It was raining when we left Mrs. Henderson’s, and as her carriage was out of repair, she sent us to the depot in an open wagon. We enjoyed the novel ride, and began to feel that we were in the service in reality. My heart beat high with expectation as we neared Corinth. As I had never been where there was a large army, and had never seen a wounded man, except in the cars, as they passed, I could not help feeling a little nervous at the prospect of now seeing both. When within a few miles of the place, we could realize the condition of an army immediately after a battle. As it had been raining for days, water and mud abounded. Here and there were wagons hopelessly left to their fate, and men on horseback trying to wade through it. As far as the eye could reach, in the midst of all this slop and mud, the white tents of our brave army could be seen through the trees, making a picture suggestive of any thing but comfort. My thoughts wandered back to the days of ancient Corinth, and the time it was besieged by the brave and warlike Romans, when the heroic Greeks had to succumb through the fault of their commander. I think of this only in contrast; for the Federals are as unlike the former as our fate will be unlike that of the latter. We have not a Diæus commanding, but the dauntless Beauregard and patriotic Bragg, who, knowing their rights, dare and will maintain them, though the whole North be arrayed against them. I am certain of one thing: that neither the Roman nor Greek armies, brave as history has portrayed them, were composed of more high-souled and determined men than those of ours.

Corinth is at the junction of the Memphis and Charleston and the Mobile and Ohio Railroads, about one hundred and twenty miles east from Memphis, and three hundred miles north from Mobile.

The crowd of men at the depot was so great that we found it impossible to get to our place of destination by ourselves. Mr. Miller was not there to meet us. I met Mr. George Redwood of Mobile, who kindly offered to pilot us. We found Mr. Miller and all the ladies busy in attending to the wants of those around them. They had not been assigned to any particular place, but there is plenty for them to do. We are at the Tishomingo Hotel, which, like every other large building, has been taken for a hospital. The yellow flag is flying from the top of each. Mrs. Ogden tried to prepare me for the scenes which I should witness upon entering the wards. But alas! nothing that I had overheard or read had given me the faintest idea of the horrors witnessed here. I do not think that words are in our vocabulary expressive enough to present to the mind the realities of that sad scene. Certainly, none of the glories of the war were presented here. But I must not say that; for if uncomplaining endurance is glory, we had plenty of it. If it is that which makes the hero, here they were by scores. Gray-haired men—men in the pride of manhood—beardless boys—Federals and all, mutilated in every imaginable way, lying on the floor, just as they were taken from the battle-field; so close together that it was almost impossible to walk without stepping on them. I could not command my feelings enough to speak, but thoughts crowded upon me. O, if the authors of this cruel and unnatural war could but see what I saw there, they would try and put a stop to it! To think, that it is man who is working all this woe upon his follow-man. What can be in the minds of our enemies, who are now arrayed against us, who have never harmed them in any way; but simply claim our own, and nothing more! May God forgive them, for surely they know not what they do.

This was no time for recrimination; there was work to do; so I went at it to do what I could. If I were to live a hundred years, I should never forget the poor sufferers’ gratitude; for every little thing, done for them—a little water to drink, or the bathing of their wounds—seemed to afford them the greatest relief.

The Federal prisoners are receiving the same attention as our own men; they are lying side by side. Many are just being brought in from the battle-field. The roads are so bad that it is almost impossible to get them moved at all. A great many ladies are below stairs: so I thought that I had better assist above. The first thing which I did was to aid in giving the men their supper, consisting of bread, biscuit, and butter, and tea and coffee, without milk. There were neither waiters nor plates; they took what we gave them in their hands, and were glad to get it. I went with a lady to give some Federal officers their supper, who were in a room by themselves; only one or two of them were wounded. One, a captain from Cincinnati, had a broken arm. Before I went in, I thought that I would be polite, and say as little as possible to them; but when I saw them laughing, and apparently indifferent to the woe which they had been instrumental in bringing upon us, I could not help being indignant; and when one of them told me he was from Iowa, and that was generally called out of the world, I told him that was where I wished him, and all like him, so that they might not trouble us any more.

April 10.—This morning we were informed that we could go to Corinth, as the order did not apply to us. With joy we hailed the news! It was still raining, but we did not mind that. When we reached the depot, Mrs. Ogden informed me that Miss Booth was sick—too much so to leave this morning. As we left Mobile together, I felt it my duty to remain with her.

I met at the depot Dr. Anderson of Mobile; and was quite amused at a remark which he made to some ladies who were telling him how badly Dr. Caldwell had acted, in not permitting us to visit his hospital. In his usual humorous manner, he said, “What can be expected from an old bachelor, who did not appreciate the ladies enough to marry one?” He also said that he did not think any hospital could get along without ladies. So we have one doctor on our side.

I rode in a carriage with Rev. Mr. Clute, the Episcopal minister of the place, to Mrs. Henderson’s, where Miss Booth was staying. Mrs. H. was glad to see me. She is a very intelligent lady, and quite handsome. Her sister, Mrs. Young, living with her, is a highly accomplished musician—plays upon the harp and piano beautifully. She sang some very fine Scotch songs for me. We had a long talk about Scotland. They are of Scotch descent. I felt quite proud of the manner in which they spoke of that land of heroes. It is my native land; and although raised in this, and never personally having known any other, I will not forget the country of my forefathers—the land of Wallace and Walter Scott. I have always found that the southern people speak in praise of it, and the noble deeds for which it is famed, and more now than ever, as we are undergoing the same ordeal through which she so nobly passed in her great struggle for independence: all trust that we may show a like spirit, and meet with like success. The husbands of both these ladies are in the army.

This is a very wealthy portion of Mississippi, and food of all kinds seems to be plentiful. At Mrs. Haughton’s we had sweet potatoes as a substitute for coffee, and it was very nice. Mrs. H. informed us that she did not intend to use any other kind while the war lasted.

April 9.—I have been to the cars. Saw Mr. John Maguire, a member of Ketchum’s Battery. He is wounded. The company has had one man killed— John Ashby—who fell fighting at his post, and some seven or eight wounded.

The Twenty-first Alabama Regiment suffered pretty badly. I have letters for two of its members. One of these, Charles Farrow, I am told, is a prisoner; the other, John Ortella, a native of Italy, is killed. Poor fellow! I saw a letter written by him a few weeks since to a friend, in which he requested her to pray for him, as he had not time to pray for himself.

Mrs. Walker, one of the ladies who came with us from Mobile, has heard that one of her sons is badly wounded, and a prisoner. Dr. Walkely is on the train, and has with him the dead body of his only son, a member of the same regiment. He left Mobile with us a volunteer surgeon, little dreaming the fate of his boy! I spoke to him, but his lip quivered so with emotion that he could not answer me.

The train was filled with wounded. All told terrible tales of the scenes in Corinth, which only served to make us more miserable. We have had a frightful battle. It was fought on the 6th and 7th inst. The first day our army drove the enemy back near the Tennessee River, within range of their gunboats. On the second they were heavily reinforced, and we retired. Nearly every state in the Confederacy is draped in mourning for the loss of their loved ones, and the whole country has to weep over the death of the good and great general, Albert Sidney Johnson, who was in command. His loss is a sad one. His place can not be easily filled. I have been told that it was his death that caused the last day’s failure. He had planned the battle, and there is no doubt that, had he lived, he would have succeeded in executing it successfully. He has died the death of a soldier and conqueror, battling for the right. He is doubly a martyr, as he had not only the bullets of the enemy to contend with, but the shafts of envy which were hurled at his fair fame by his own countrymen. They say that he was wounded while recklessly exposing himself. But, ere his noble spirit took its flight, he had the proud satisfaction of seeing the enemy driven back in dismay and confusion. May his soul rest in peace! It has gone where it will be judged, not as man judges, but by the heart alone. Let his faults lie with him in the grave; be it our duty to do honor to his many virtues.

General Gladden of Louisiana is mortally wounded; Colonel Blythe of Mississippi is killed. Mobile has to mourn the loss of some of her bravest and best— Major Armstead, young Maguire, Anderson, Marshall, Spear, Burns, Cummins, Herpin, Ledyard, and others, are names never to be forgotten.

“O, for the death of those

     Who for their country die;

Sink on her bosom to repose,

     And triumph where they lie!

How beautiful in death

     The Warrior’s corse appears;

Embalmed by fond Affection’s breath.

     And bathed in Woman’s tears!

Their loveliest native earth

     Enshrines the fallen brave;

In the dear land that gave them birth,

     They find their tranquil grave.”

I spoke to John Maguire, and reminded him of that day, one year ago, when he participated in one of the finest displays of which the city of Mobile boasts—the Firemen’s Anniversary.[1]

A number of ladies have come from Natchez, Miss., to join us. They have also been cared for by the good people of the place.

After we returned to Mrs. Haughton’s, I was quite amused in listening to her granddaughter’s account of a visit which they had just made to the hospital. It seems that the surgeons entertain great prejudice against admitting ladies into the hospital in the capacity of nurses. The surgeon in charge, Dr. Caldwell, has carried this so far that he will not even allow the ladies of the place to visit his patients. These young ladies went over with some milk and bouquets, and were not permitted to present them in person to the patients, but had to give them to the doctor. So they told him they knew the reason; he wanted all the good things for himself. The doctors, one and all, are getting terrible characters from the ladies; even good Dr. Nott of Mobile is not spared. I only wish that the doctors would let us try and see what we can do! Have we not noble examples of what our women have done? For instance, Mrs. Hopkins, in Virginia, and, I have no doubt, many others. Is the noble example of Miss Nightingale to pass for nothing? I trust not. What one woman has done, another may do. We need not aspire to be Miss Nightingales, or Mrs. Hopkinses; still we can contribute our “two mites.”

We have with us two very excellent ladies—Mrs. Hunter and her daughter— refugees from Missouri. They were in a hospital at Nashville when the city was taken possession of by the enemy, and have been relating their experience, which is very interesting.

[1] The 9th of April is the anniversary of the organisation of the fire department. Two of the companies, the Creole and Neptune, date their origin from 1819. This department has for its members men of the highest standing. On this anniversary, the engines are decked most gorgeously, and dressed with flowers. One year ago to-day the companies vied with each other in their efforts to make the finest display. The whole department exhibited more energy than was its wont. The war spirit had just been aroused on account of the north holding, as a right, what we deemed our own—Fort Sumter— and our people, awakened as if from a lethargy, determined to throw heart and soul into the contest.

April 8.—Arrived at Okolona, Miss., this morning. We are still sixty miles from Corinth. When we alighted at the depot, we were told that there were no hotels to go to. As it had been raining for some time very hard, all about us looked as cheerless as possible. Our prospects, as may be supposed, were gloomy enough. While in this perplexity, each one giving an opinion as to what we had best do, word was brought us that the citizens of the place, hearing of our arrival and mission, had opened their houses for our reception, and many sent carriages to take us to their homes.

As the good people of Mobile have provided us with comforts and delicacies of all kinds for the soldiers, our failure to reach Corinth is a sad disappointment. The stories which we hear of the suffering and almost starving condition of our men aggravate it still more.

The people here can tell us little or nothing about the battle, except that one has been fought. How our forces have come out of it, they have not learned.

Several of our party, myself included, are domiciled with an excellent family by the name of Haughton, consisting of an old lady, her young daughter Lucy, and two pretty girls, her granddaughters. They are extending to us true southern hospitality.

We were all exhausted by loss of sleep, disappointment, and anxiety, and hence did not go to the cars when they passed at 11 A. M. Mrs. H’s two granddaughters went down, and, upon their return, informed us that the cars were filled with the wounded on their way to Mobile and other points. Among other items, there is a report that Captain Ketchum is killed, and all his men are either killed or captured; that the Twenty-first Alabama Regiment has been cut to pieces. I was never more wretched in my life! I can see nothing before me but my slaughtered brother, and the bleeding and mangled forms of his dying comrades, and the men of the gallant Twenty-first Alabama, whom I had seen leave Mobile but a few weeks ago so full of life and hope—many of whom were mere boys. The battle was fought at Shiloh, about twelve miles from Corinth. We had gained a victory, but at a great sacrifice. I tried to comfort myself and trust in God, assured that he was doing all for the best. O, if they would only let us go on! I feel certain that we could help the poor wounded sufferers.

It is raining in torrents. Nature seems to have donned her most somber garb, and to be weeping in anguish for the loss of so many of her noblest sons.

About midnight a train came down. I jumped up, and awoke Miss Mary Wolf. Hurriedly dressing ourselves, we took a servant and started down to see if we could hear any thing. I felt confident we should meet other ladies there as anxious as ourselves. I was not mistaken, for we had not gone far when we met a number returning from the train. It was a car sent down to get negroes to build fortifications.

April 7, 1862. —I left Mobile by the  Mobile and Ohio Railroad for Corinth, with Rev. Mr.Miller and a number of Mobile ladies. We are going for the purpose of taking care of the sick and wounded of the army.

As news has come that a battle is now raging, there are not a few anxious hearts in the party—my own among the number, as I have a young brother, belonging to Ketchum’s Battery, who I know will be in the midst of the fight, and I have also many dear friends there.

A gentleman, Mr. Skates, has heard that his son is among the killed, and is with us on his way to the front to bring back the remains of him who a short time since formed one of his family circle. May God give strength to the mother and sisters now mourning the loss of their loved one! May they find consolation in the thought that he died a martyr’s death; was offered up a sacrifice upon the altar of his country; and that, when we have gained our independence, he, with the brave comrades who fought and fell with him, will ever live in the hearts and memories of a grateful people! I can not look at Mr. Skates without asking myself how many of us may ere long be likewise mourners! It is impossible to suppress these gloomy forebodings.

About midnight, at one of the stations, a dispatch was received prohibiting any one from going to Corinth without a special permit from head-quarters. Our disappointment can be better imagined than described. As military orders are peremptory, there is nothing for us to do but to submit. Mr. Miller has concluded to stop at one of the small towns, as near Corinth as he can get, and there wait until he receives permission for us to go on.