Kitabı oku: «Nurse and Spy in the Union Army», sayfa 19
CHAPTER XXX
CLOSING INCIDENTS – PROFESSOR LOWE’S BALLOON – FITZ JOHN PORTER’S ADVENTURE – HIS UPWARD FLIGHT – RECONNOITERING FROM A DANGEROUS POSITION – COOL COURAGE – ENTHUSIASTIC GREETING – AN EARNEST INQUIRER – A BAPTISM IN THE ARMY – PREACHING BY MOONLIGHT – A MAGNIFICENT SCENE – A WEDDING IN CAMP – GAY TIMES – A CONTRAST – HOSPITAL IN WINCHESTER – SPIRIT OF REVENGE – SABLE HEROINE – A WHITE DARKEY – COLORED SOLDIERS – CONCLUSION.
In looking back over the events of the two years which I spent in the army, I see so much worthy of record I scarcely know where to stop.
A most thrilling incident occurs to my mind at this moment in connection with Professor Lowe and his balloon, which I must relate before closing. It took place while McClellan’s army was in front of Yorktown.
General Fitz John Porter having been in the habit of making frequent ascensions in company with Professor Lowe, learned to go aloft alone.
One morning he stepped into the car and ordered the cable to be let out with all speed. We saw with surprise that the flurried assistants were sending up the great straining canvas with a single rope attached. The enormous bag was only partially inflated, and the loose folds opened and shut with a sharp report like that of a pistol. Noisily, fitfully, the great yellow mass rose toward the sky, the basket rocking like a feather in the breeze. Presently a sound came from overhead like the explosion of a shell – the cable had snapped asunder, and the balloon was adrift.
All eyes were turned toward the receding car, where General Porter sat in his ærial castle, being borne heavenward as fast as if on eagle wings, without the power either to check or guide his upward flight.
The whole army was agitated by this unwonted occurrence, and the rebel army evidently partook in the general excitement.
Lowe’s voice could be heard above the confusion and tumult shouting to the soaring hero – “Open – the – valve! Climb – to – the – netting – and – reach – the valve – rope!”
“The valve – the valve!” repeated a multitude of voices, but all in vain, for it was impossible to make him hear.
Soon the signal corps began to operate, and at last the general was made to understand by signals when it was impossible to reach him by the human voice.
He appeared directly over the edge of the car, and then clambered up the netting and reached for the cord, but he was so far above us then he looked no bigger than a great black spider.
It was a weird spectacle – that frail, fading object floating in the azure sky, with the miniature boat swinging silently beneath, looking no bigger than a humming-bird’s nest; and a hundred thousand brave hearts beneath beating with the wildest excitement and warmest sympathy, yet powerless to render the least assistance to their exalted brother-in-arms.
“Had the general been floating down the rapids of Niagara he could not have been farther from human assistance.”
We at length saw him descend from the netting and reappear over the edge of the basket, and he seemed to be motioning to the breathless crowd below the story of his failure.
Soon after the balloon began slowly to descend, and when we next saw him it was with spyglass in hand, reconnoitering the rebel works. Shouts of joy and laughter went up from the long lines of spectators as this cool procedure was observed.
For a moment it seemed doubtful in which direction the balloon would float; it faltered like an irresolute being, and at length moved reluctantly toward Fortress Monroe. Bursting cheers, half uttered, quivered on every lip. All eyes glistened, and many were dim with tears. But the wayward canvas now turned due west, and was blown rapidly toward the confederate works.
Its course was fitfully direct, and the wind seemed to veer often, as if contrary currents, conscious of the opportunity, were struggling for the possession of the daring navigator.
The south wind held the mastery for awhile, and the balloon passed the Federal front amid groans of despair from the soldiers. It kept right on, over sharpshooters, rifle-pits, etc., until it stood directly over the rebel fortifications at Yorktown. The cool courage, either of heroism or despair, seemed to seize the general, for turning his tremendous glass upon the ramparts and masked batteries below, he viewed the remote camps, the beleaguered town, the guns of Gloucester Point, and distant Norfolk. Had he been reconnoitering from a secure perch on the top of the moon he could not have been more vigilant; and the Confederates probably thought this some Yankee device to peer into their sanctum in spite of ball or shell. None of their large guns could be brought to bear upon the balloon, but there were some discharges of musketry, which seemed to have no effect whatever, and finally even these demonstrations ceased.
Both armies were gazing aloft in breathless suspense, while the deliberate general continued to spy out the land.
Suddenly another change of position, and the air craft plunged and tacked about, and steered rapidly for the Federal lines again. Making a desperate effort to catch the valve-rope, the general at length succeeded, and giving it a jerk, the balloon came suddenly to the ground; fortunately, however, it struck a tent as it descended, which perhaps saved the general from any serious injuries from the fall.
By the time the crowd had reached the spot, Porter had disentangled himself from the folds of oiled canvas, and was ready to greet his anxious friends; and amid hearty congratulations and vociferous cheers, he was escorted to his quarters.
As this chapter is devoted to incidents in camp, I will try to illustrate the variety of interesting events with which our camps abound.
After one of the most severe battles ever fought in Virginia, and while our troops were still rejoicing over their victory, a young soldier sought the chaplain for the purpose of religious conversation. Said the chaplain: “The tears were in his eyes, and his lips trembled with emotion. I knew that he was in earnest. We knelt down together and I prayed with him, and he prayed for himself. In this manner we spent several hours, pleading with God in his behalf, until light broke through the darkness, and he arose from his knees praising God.”
Wishing to manifest by some outward sign his consecration to God and to His service, he requested the chaplain to baptize him by immersion. The next day being the Sabbath his request was complied with, in the presence of thousands of his comrades.
The scene was a most solemn one, and after the ordinance was administered there was scarcely a dry eye in the company to which he belonged.
In the evening one of the delegates of the Christian Commission preached to an immense congregation of grim warriors seated on the ground – a little pine grove for a church, the great blue dome of heaven for galleries, and the clear, bright moon for a chandelier.
The scene was a magnificent one. A little to the right lay a cloud of white canvas tents shining in the moonlight, and just below, in plain sight, were the transports dotting the water, with their gleaming lights and star-spangled banners floating in the evening breeze. All combined to make the scene beautiful and interesting.
The discourse was excellent and well chosen, and the men listened with profound attention, and I have no doubt with much profit. Then was sung and the benediction being pronounced, the vast assembly marched to their quarters as solemnly as if going from a funeral.
Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing,
Next came a wedding! Yes; a real wedding in camp. You must know that when military necessity prevents our young heroes from going home to fulfill their engagements to their devoted fair ones, it is the privilege of the waiting damsels, in war times, to remove all unnecessary obstacles, and facilitate matters by declaring themselves in favor of the union, and claiming their lovers on the field.
This wedding was a grand affair, and took place in a camp which was very prettily decorated, being picturesquely arranged among pine trees – just the most romantic place imaginable for such an event.
A little before noon the guests began to arrive in large numbers. Among them were Generals Hooker, Sickles, Carr, Mott, Hobart, Ward, Revere, Bartlett, Birney, and Berry.
The troops, looking their very best, formed a hollow square, in the center of which a canopy was erected, and an altar formed of drums.
As the generals marched into the square – General Hooker leading the van – and grouped themselves on each side of the altar, the bands struck up “Hail to the Chief,” and on the appearance of the bridal party the “Wedding March” was played.
The day was cold and windy, with a few snow-flakes interspersed, which made the ladies in attendance look very much like “blue noses”; but the blushing bride bore the cold and the admiring glances of the soldiers like a martyr, and retained her dignity and self-possession throughout the ceremony worthy of a heroine, as she was.
To add to the dramatic effect of the scene, a line of battle was formed by the remaining troops in that section, a short distance from camp, to repel an expected attack of the enemy.
The ceremony having been performed, dinner was announced, and all partook of the good things provided for the occasion.
After dinner, came numerous toasts, speeches, songs, and music from the bands, and, to close up the day in good style, a regular military ball was held, and fireworks exhibited in the evening – “and on the whole,” a newspaper correspondent says, “it entirely eclipsed an opera at the Academy of Music.”
I have before alluded to the vindictive spirit manifested by the women of Virginia toward our soldiers. I will illustrate this fact by an incident which took place in one of the hospitals just after a severe battle.
Many wounded soldiers, both Union and Confederate, were brought into the town of Winchester, and placed in the churches and court-house side by side.
The ladies (beg pardon, ladies, I mean females) of that place brought into the hospital many things to nourish and tempt the appetites of the sufferers, but they gave all these delicacies to the Confederate soldiers: our men were passed by as unworthy of notice or sympathy.
One day a lady, who had been a constant visitor, brought in a supply of fragrant tea. She went from one cot to another of her friends, but had no eye or heart of pity for others.
One of our wounded men, who lay near his end, longed for a cup of this tea as he saw it handed to those around him, and requested the chaplain, who stood by his side, to ask the lady for a little of the tea.
He did so in a very polite manner, at the same time telling her how ill the man was, and that it was the soldier himself who wished him to make the request.
“No,” said she, and her face flushed with anger; “not a drop of it; this tea is all for our suffering martyrs.”
The chaplain replied: “Madam, I looked for no other answer. I beg pardon for having seemed for a moment to expect a different one.”
A few moments afterwards, as the poor disappointed man lay there seeing the delicious tea passed on all sides of him and could not procure a drop of it, an old lame negro woman came limping up the aisle with a large basket on each arm.
Coming up to where the chaplain stood, she laid down the baskets and addressed him thus:
“Massa, I’se a slave – my husban’ and chil’en is slaves. Will you ’cept dese tings for de poor men?”
Then taking up a roll of stockings, she said: “Dem I knit wid my own hands for de soldiers, when all sleep, in my cabin. We know’d dis war was comin’ long ’fore you Yankees did. We see it ’proaching, an’ we began to prepare for it.”
Then taking packages of tea, cans of fruit, pears and peaches, lint, linen for bandages, and pocket-handkerchiefs, she said: “Massa, permit me to give you dese for de poor men. I have not stole ’em. My own hands have earned ’em over de washtub. I wish to do something for de Union soldiers, Lord bless ’em!”
“As she talked,” says the chaplain, “she grew more earnest, and looking around on the mutilated men the tears rolled down her black face, and fell on her hands, as she lifted the treasures out of the baskets and handed them to me.”
Our sick men looked with wonder and admiration on the old colored woman, and soon a hundred voices cried out “God bless you, aunty! You are the only white woman we have seen since we came to Winchester.”
Some people assert that colored people have no souls. Which, think you, acted most as if lacking soul – the black or the white woman in the hospital at Winchester?
The devotion of the negro woman, as manifested in the hospital, is a perfect sample of the devotion of the contrabands, male and female, to the Union cause.
And now that the time has come when the colored men are permitted, by the laws of the land, to assume the privileges of rational beings, and to go forth as American soldiers to meet their cruel oppressors on the bloody field, there is evidently as great, if not greater, enthusiasm and true patriotism manifested by them, as by any troops in the United States army.
And still further – it has been proved satisfactorily within the last twelve months that the colored troops endure fatigue as cheerfully and fight as well (and get less pay) as any of the white troops. Thank God, this is one great point gained for the poor down-trodden descendants of Africa.
I imagine I see them, with their great shiny eyes and grinning faces, as they march to the field, singing —
Oh! we’re de bully soldiers of de “First of Arkansas,”
We are fightin’ for de Union, we are fightin’ for de law,
We can hit a rebel furder dan a white man eber saw,
As we go marchin’ on:
Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc.
See dar! above de center, where de flag is wavin’ bright;
We are goin’ out of slavery; we are bound for freedom’s light;
We mean to show Jeff. Davis how de Africans can fight!
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
As we go marching on.
And now, what shall I say in conclusion? The war still continues – our soldiers are daily falling in battle, and thousands are languishing in hospitals or in Southern prisons; and I for months past have not given even a cup of cold water to the sufferers. I am ashamed to acknowledge it! But when I look around and see the streets crowded with strong, healthy young men who ought to be foremost in the ranks of their country’s defenders, I am not only ashamed, but I am indignant!
To prove to my friends that I am not ambitious of gaining the reputation of that venerable general (Halleck) whose “pen is mightier than his sword,” I am about to return to the army to offer my services in any capacity which will best promote the interests of the Federal cause – no matter how perilous the position may be.
And now I lay aside my pen, hoping that after “this cruel war is over,” and peace shall have once more shed her sweet influence over our land, I may be permitted to resume it again to record the annihilation of rebellion, and the final triumph of Truth, Right, and Liberty.
O Lord of Peace, who art Lord of Righteousness,
Constrain the anguished worlds from sin and grief,
Pierce them with conscience, purge them with redress,
And give us peace which is no counterfeit!
