January 5th, 1864.
There are now thirty men in my ward. All but two are able to wait on themselves. There are six nurses to see them do it. It has not been so long, however. At first we had sixty of the worst cases in one room. When off duty, until day before yesterday, the nurses had to shirk for themselves, sleeping on the floor in the room with the sick. Now we have a room eighteen by twenty, and warmed by a stove. There is a large building adjoining the hospital assigned to convalescents. Each morning the surgeon examines them all and sends such as he deems able to do duty, to their regiments. These convalescents kept good fires, and I frequently went there to warm myself, when off duty. One morning the surgeon, a new arrival and a stranger to me, noticed me standing by the fire, and thought from my appearance I was fit for duty. “To what regiment do you belong?” “The Seventeenth Michigan, sir.” “How long have you been here?” “About six weeks.” “What are you doing?” “Nursing.” “Where?” “In the first ward.” “What business have you here, then?” “No business, only to warm myself. It is rather cold standing in the street today, when off duty.” “What, have the nurses no place to stay?” “No, sir; they are as poor as was the Son of Man; they have no place to lay their heads.”
This surgeon was Dr. Cogswell, of the Twenty-ninth Massachusetts, who had lately relieved Dr. Fox. In a few minutes I was notified this pleasant room was at our disposal.
