CHAPTERXXX
Whilestill working at high tension I suddenly became aware that even my great vitality and good health demanded a rest, and I was preparing to leave for home, when Mr. Huron, of the Indiana State Agency, who had nearly lost his pretty wife by typhoid at City Point, came urging me to undertake an unusually difficult case, an application for discharge. I insisted that I had not enough energy left to win another case. His discharge had been repeatedly blocked, even though urged by the Secretary of the State of Indiana, and there seemed to be no hope of sending this brave soldier home. However, Mr. Huron’s statement of injustice was so exasperating that, in righteous indignation, I determined to remain and make one more effort at this last moment. This man, who had served his full term of four years honorably, and had lost a leg, was, without consent, placed on the roll of the Invalid Corps, which indignity old soldiers considered a stain on their army escutcheon. Many appeals had failed to accomplish his discharge. The case was always “referred back” to the hospital where it was duly “pigeon-holed.” The man’s sister had come to Washington expecting to take him home to Indiana, but for weeks all their efforts had failed, and now some legal complications had culminated which required his presence at home to save their little property and farm.
The next day I went to the hospital, and after listening to the man’s statement I went directly to the surgeon in charge, and stated the case,—to which he replied with some discourtesy. Having received the utmost courtesy and respect and attention from all the departments when I had asked for help, my temper rose to the occasion when he said: “The man has no descriptive list, and I will attend to it when I think best!”
“That will not answer my purpose,” I replied warmly. “I wish the man to go at once!” and I made some strong statements of the urgency of the situation. He assumed a dignified silence; on which I stated emphatically “The man is going! If you do not help me in the matter, he will go just the same!” My indignation was then sufficient to put through a half dozen cases.
Going directly to the Medical Department, I made known to Surgeons Middletown and Abbott the unjust detention of this loyal soldier. They had always promptly aided me in other cases; and upon hearing my statement they also became indignant, and offered me every help. I had “turned in” my ambulance with many thanks, when I intended to leave for home; but Doctor Middletown said “You had better have our headquarters’ ambulance, for you have many miles to travel over the city to put this matter through, and I will go ‘over the head’ of this surgeon and order him to order a descriptive list.”
With this document I was much encouraged, and went next morning to the hospital and my aristocratic surgeon, who tried not to appear surprised as he said loftily: “I will attend to it.”
“Excuse me,” I said, “I came directly from Headquarters to get your signature, and to deliver the paper to the Medical Department myself.”
He dared not refuse this order, and sent for the steward and gave him the paper to fill out the order. I followed closely on the heels of this man to his office, where he coolly thrust the paper into a pigeon-hole and sat down. Surmising that his intention was to make me wait until after office hours, I at last said to him: “Steward, if you do not intend to make out that paper at once I shall report you to Medical Headquarters.” He soon found time and made out the paper, and I rode away to unravel more red tape. At the Medical Department the doctors signed the paper, and directed me to take it to the War Department. Distances were great and office hours short, and so another day passed. But at the earliest moment on the following day, we drove to the War Department, where I found Captain Sam Breck, now a retired General, a handsome thoroughbred gentleman who had done me many army favors.
“Why, Miss Smith,” he exclaimed cheerfully, “are you here yet? I thought you were through with us.”
“Well, Captain, you haven’t got rid of me yet, and though I am completely tired out, I have taken another most distressing case, and I’m going to sit right down here and talk until you help me out.”
Jokingly, he said, “Oh, I can’t stand that, so let us see if I can save your breath.”
I stated the case as briefly as possible, and his sense of justice was aroused as he said emphatically, “I will help you with this case.”
“How long does it take to put through a descriptive list?” I asked.
“Well,” he replied, “about three weeks usually!”
“Oh,” I exclaimed, “that won’t do. I can’t stay so long, and if I leave the papers they’ll be pigeon-holed again.”
He thought a moment, and said, “Let me have the papers,” and he left me waiting in his office.
On returning the paper he said, “There, Miss Smith, that has never before been done in this Department. The descriptive list has been put through in fifteen minutes. Take it to your doctor, and he will be obliged to sign it; and then your man will be free.”
Too delighted and relieved to properly express my thanks, I said—“Good-bye for good this time, Captain. I promise not to trouble you any more!”
Again in the ambulance I said to the driver, who was very much interested, “Now, Orderly, your horses can not go too fast for me!” and soon we dashed up to the hospital grounds.
Meanwhile the case had become hospital gossip, and every “Boy” knew of my work. The doctor gave me the slip, but I followed him up through the wards till I found him at last in his office. In passing through the wards I waved the paper saying—“Boys, I have it, I have it!” A low cheer passed round as the good news spread from ward to ward.
On presenting this order I said, “Doctor, will you please sign this?”
With an effort he controlled his expression, and said quite blandly, “Er, er—when would you like to have this man go?”
“Immediately, if you please!”—with extreme politeness.
“Oh! then I will order the ambulance.”
“Thank you,” I replied, “I have the Medical Headquarters’ Ambulance waiting and will take the man with me just as soon as he can be made ready.” I then bowed myself out politely.
In half an hour the happy cripple was placed beside me in the ambulance, and we drove directly to Mr. Huron’s home, where the now rejoicing sister was waiting. She started at once to take her brother home by easy stages, and we heard that they had reached their little farm in safety. A letter of appreciation from the Secretary of the State of Indiana was a satisfactory ending to this almost impossible case.
In my many visits to this hospital I had discovered some “irregularities,” for instance, that a number of soldiers were detained on various pretexts in order that the requisite number might be maintained, with their “rations” (thirty-seven cents per diem) to keep open this hospital. So many men begged me, almost upon their knees, to help them. As this was quite beyond my strength I resolved to report the matter to General Grant’s headquarters. During my call he listened politely and silently, laid away his cigar, gave me his attention, and referred me to Adjutant Bowers, who exclaimed: “Why, that is impossible! Here is an order sent some weeks ago directing all convalescents to be discharged at once!”
“Nevertheless, Colonel,” I replied, “the men remain.”
With some excitement he replied, “If you can get me the names of these men, and I find that orders have not been followed, I will close that hospital, at once.”
This decision and the fact that General Grant had given me his autograph during my visit, made me very happy. I diplomatically secured a list of about twenty men who were being wrongfully detained, and this was at once conveyed to Colonel Bowers. This was my “Coup d’ état” in Washington; and I thought it a good time to retire from hospital work and to return to my home for rest. Two weeks later I saw by a Washington paper that all patients at this hospital able to travel had been sent home, and a small remainder of those still sick had been carried to Harewood Hospital, the former hospital having ended its career.
I had hoped to meet General Grant’s Military Secretary, General Eli Parker, who wrote the draft of the surrender of Appomattox. He was said to have been of imposing appearance. He was chief of the Senecas and of the Six Nations, and his Indian name was Donehogawa. When at home on their reservation with their father, his sisters, who, when in Washington, were among the cultured society of the Capitol, wore the rich costumes of princesses of the tribe and were treated with the homage due to their rank.
Thus ended my work in Washington for the “Boys in Blue.”