BRAVING DANGERS.
IN December, 1862, General W. T. Sherman gathered his forces at the landing at Helena, Ark., and on the 21st of the month the great fleet, with flags flying, moved down the Mississippi River. A very strict order had been issued by him against any citizen or reporter accompanying the expedition; and severe penalties were threatened in case the order should be disobeyed.
It was well known that the movement was against Vicksburg, but the bravest reporter feared to defy that order.
As some time passed without news of Sherman’s army, theBlue Wingwas sent down with communications, but she was captured by the Confederates. The government finally decided to send down two gunboats and theWhite Cloud, a wooden steamer. I at once asked the privilege of loading theWhite Cloudwith sanitary supplies. Mr. Plattenburg, agent of the Sanitary Commission, who was also at Helena, had a heavy lot of supplies.
As I had a pass for myself and all goods, fromthe Secretary of War, I had no trouble in securing a passage on theWhite Cloud. I do not recall as to how Mr. Plattenburg secured the privilege of going with the little expedition; I only know that he went, and that the boat was loaded with our supplies.
Thousands of soldiers were about the landing when our little fleet moved out with banners flying. We all knew that untold dangers were before us. And our heroism created the greatest enthusiasm. When theWhite Cloudmoved out into the channel and turned her prow down stream, I stepped out “on the guards” to take a last look at Helena. My appearance was greeted with such an outburst of applause from the thousands on the wharf that I fled to the cabin, after waving my handkerchief in acknowledgment of the salute.
We were fired into frequently from the banks. Whenever we reached a point of especial danger theWhite Cloud was sent eight or ten miles in advance so as to draw the enemy’s fire, and thus uncover his batteries; for it was not likely that if the gunboats were in sight we would be attacked. Every moment, night and day, we were in expectation of shot or shell from some concealed battery from the shore. But they had been forewarned that the gunboats were coming, and so did not attempt to capture theWhite Cloud. The sharpshooters on the shore fired into us againand again. No one was killed; but sleep and rest were impossible, and there were many narrow escapes. We reached Milliken’s Bend one morning about daylight, to find General Sherman’s army quartered there.
There was a great fleet of boats, and the sick and wounded were on them. A tugboat was detailed to me; and I went with my supplies from boat to boat, distributing such comforts and delicacies as I had, to the men who had been wounded in the fight near Vicksburg. It was decided by the medical authorities to send a steamer up the river with a load of the wounded at once. TheCity of Memphis, the largest steamer on the Mississippi River, was selected for this purpose. A regiment and a battery were removed from the boat, and she was put in order; that is, the filth was shovelled overboard.
I was told by a chaplain at the time that there were so many of our men dying that the firing of salutes over their graves was ordered discontinued. The constant noise of funerals was demoralizing. During the afternoon the boat was loaded up with the worst patients on the several boats. They were placed in the berths, and under the berths, and on the floor, and out upon the guards. Wherever there was a place where a fever-stricken, or a torn and broken body could be laid, it was occupied. About seven hundred and fifty were put on board.
The sun was sinking;-behind the long, low line of cypress trees, festooned with their trailing mosses, when our boat turned her prow up the Mississippi River.
Long rows of men lay on the floor with their knapsacks for their pillows. Among them was a Missouri soldier, severely wounded and delirious, who all the night long called piteously for his sister.
His cry, “O sister!” was so plaintive and pathetic that I would go to him every little while and ask,
“What do you want?”
“I am glad you have come—I want a drink of water.”
When the water was given he would remain quiet for a little time. The next morning, as soon as it was light, he was taken to the amputating-table, and one of his limbs sawed off above the knee. He sank very low under the operation—so low that no attempt was made to remove him from the table. The surgeon in charge said to me, “Get him to take some food or drink if you can; he is sinking very fast.” I offered him every delicacy in my possession, but he turned away in disgust. There had been some of my supplies transferred to this boat. While working with the men on the lower deck, and helping dress their wounds, I found a barrel of sauer-kraut. I allowed the attendants to open it; but afterwards, as Icame up to the upper cabin, I called the surgeon’s attention to it, so as not to be blamed in the matter if the results were bad.
It happened that I met him near the amputating-table. As I passed the patient I turned to give him a sympathetic look. He beckoned to me, and I hastened to him. “I want some kraut,” he said.
I stepped over to where the surgeon was ministering to a man, and questioned as to whether it was best to grant his request. “Give him anything he wants—he can’t live anyway,” was his answer. I sent an attendant down to get the kraut; and he brought up a big tin cup full, and placed it on his breast and went his way.
Shortly afterwards, passing that way, I noticed him, feebly, ravenously trailing the kraut to his mouth; and I never saw any one eat as much kraut as he did in my life. He never stopped till he emptied the cup. No one attempted to hinder him, as it was expected he would die soon. From that hour he began to mend, and by the time we reached St. Louis his case was considered hopeful.
Months afterwards, as I was passing through one of the St. Louis hospitals, I heard thethud, thud, of crutches coming after me. I turned to see who was following me; and a merry voice greeted me, “Here’s your sauer-kraut man! Here’s your sauer-kraut man!” And there, sure enough, was my Missouri soldier, able to get around lively on crutches, and as blithe and merry as though hehad never felt the keen edge of the surgeon’s knife.
The dangers and hardships of that trip can never be forgotten. There were many touching incidents. If this little story falls under the eyes of that Missouri soldier, I would like to hear from him.
He told me, that day that I last met him, his story, which was full of the pathos of home love and tender sacrifices. He was the youngest of his father’s family; and they did not want to spare him to the country, though they were loyal to the Stars and Stripes. But the lawless bands of marauders, who were significantly called “Bushwhackers,” were prowling over the State of Missouri, and his life was unsafe. He did not venture to sleep in a house for months before he left his home, and at last sleeping in the bushes became dangerous. Several times, as he was asleep out in the undergrowth, he narrowly escaped the bushwhackers, who were seeking him. I never saw him again, but hope he got back to his own home safely.
During the trip up to Cairo twenty died, one with lockjaw. It was pitiful to see a great stalwart man deprived of the power of speech, starving to death. Not one particle of food could pass between his closely-set teeth. His mind was clear, and daily he wrote out his requests in regard to his friends and other matters.
Never was ocean traveller gladder to see the headlands of his own native country than were we to see Cairo. A company of ladies came on board, fresh nurses and surgeons were obtained, also comforts for the wounded in the shape of cots, mattresses, etc. Many of the patients were removed from the overcrowded boat into comfortable hospitals at Cairo, thus relieving all parties. As soon as the boat landed, I went to the house of a friend; and as I had not had one hour of unbroken sleep for about ten days, I redeemed the time by taking a nap thirty-six hours long.