Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 2.
Frank Moore, Ed.

[91] meant to carry them out. We were accordingly all seized, hands bound, except the doctors, who were in ambulances. It was then raining in torrents, and some 80 of the wounded were lying in the vicinity of the church and blacksmith shop without any shelter excepting a blanket. The doctors were hurriedly taken away, we being told that our wounded would be cared for by themselves.

Here we waited till 12 o'clock at night in the rain, awaiting orders, when I requested Capt. Patrick to allow me to go down to the hospital to see a relative who was badly wounded, telling him it would be better to shoot our wounded at once than to allow them to die off by inches; they were all calling for water, and no one there to give it to them. He then said, “Well, my man, choose another man with you and go down.” I chose Smith, of Company H, Seventy-first regiment. Capt. Patrick then inquired if there were any more men who had brothers or relatives among the wounded. A general rush took place among the prisoners — they all stepping forward. He then allowed Atwood Crosby, of Maine, to take care of his brother, who was wounded in the back, and five others: Tompkins, Company C, Seventy-first; John Hand, of Massachusetts; a young boy of the Second Rhode Island, about 17 years old; Deegan, of the Twenty-seventh, and another, an assistant to a Maine surgeon, and his servant, who cooked for the prisoners, under the direction of Tompkins. The rest were kept out in the rain all night, and the following morning were sent to Richmond.

During Monday night a man from Wisconsin died, calling for his mother. He had a daguerreotype of his wife and two children. He called me to give him some water, which I did very frequently. He called for his “Dear mother” --these were his last words. He was a man about 5 feet 6 inches, with a light mustache, and was wounded in the groin. A boy about 18 years old, dressed in the uniform of the Eighth regiment, about 5 feet 10 inches in height, sandy complexion, shot in the head; had $21 in his pocket-book, and a white silk badge, marked “Parker Guard,” died Monday night. Lieut. Devers, of Ellsworth Zouaves, wounded in the arm. He laid down to rest, and in the morning, when I went to bandage his arm, I found him dead. Also, a man from Rockland, Me., named Fletcher.

On Tuesday, Allen, of Company C, Seventy-first, died. He was wounded in the abdomen. Butler, of Company C, Seventy-first, Elizabeth-town, N. J., also died; wounded in legs. Doctors were not there to amputate. George Sayne and John P. Morrissey, both of the Seventy-first, also died Wednesday morning, within one hour of each other, lying side by side. Mead, of Massachusetts, a wealthy shoe-manufacturer, died while having his thigh amputated. Several others died, whose names I could not learn, numbering in all 32.

On Tuesday evening, six of the doctors came back on parole — Drs. Peugnet, Swift, Winston, De Graw, Buxton, and Stewart — and immediately commenced attending to the wounded. Their exertions were unremitting; their time day and night was given to the wounded until all the wounds were properly dressed and all cared for.

On Wednesday morning, Dr. Peugnet put me in charge of the hospital, and allowed me to choose 20 from the prisoners and wounded, who were able to take care of the wounded, to assist me.

The same morning a lady of the neighborhood brought us a bottle of wine and two dozen eggs, and we bought at noon twelve dozen eggs from a sutler. Thursday morning a number of secession doctors made their appearance, bringing with them some luxuries, which they gave to our doctors. Some time during the day Noble, of Company F, and Gillette, of the Engineer Corps, both of the Seventy-first, were brought in as prisoners, and were retained as assistants at the hospital. They were not wounded. This day a number of ladies and farmers of the surrounding country visited our hospitals, bringing with them milk, soup, and cakes.

On Friday, they commenced removing the prisoners and wounded, amongst them Capt. Gordon, of the Eleventh Massachusetts, Lieut. Hamlin, Scott Life Guard, and all the noncommissioned officers, leaving instructions with us to be prepared to follow the ambulances containing the wounded, who had undergone operations, on Saturday. In the mean time, Capt. Allen, of the Eleventh Massachusetts, disguised as a private and wounded prisoner, a Wisconsin boy, named Worldorf, and myself, planned an escape, which was successfully accomplished between 5 and 10 P. M. Friday night. We ran the guard, and crawled on our hands and feet out of hearing distance of the sentinels; proceeded in a north-east direction until 3 1/2 A. M.; met two pickets of the enemy in a small tent on the main road, which we had to cross to accomplish our escape; the pickets cowed at our appearance, and hid behind a tree, and we backed some one hundred feet with sticks pointed in the direction of the pickets, and then turned and ran about two miles, keeping a little to the north.

At 2 P. M., not knowing where we were, we determined to approach a house and inquire. We met two women at the gate, and told them we belonged to the Fourth Alabama regiment. They asked for Messrs. Grey of that regiment — if we knew them — and a number of others, all of whom, we told them, were shot at Bull Run. They asked where we came from, and where were our arms. These questions we evaded, and asked them to show us the way to Centreville, which they did. We took an opposite direction, and at 4 P. M. halted at an. other house, where an old man came out and asked if we were soldiers. We replied in the affirmative, and added that we belonged to the