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The soldiers' guardian angel.
Among those who have sacrificed all the comforts of life, the pleasures of society, and the delights of intellectual culture and association for the still higher and holier joy of ministering to those, who, on our great battle fields, have fallen in defence of their country, there is none more deserving of a nation's gratitude and enduring remembrance than
Miss Clara H. Barton.
Of an excellent family in
Massachusetts, a family numbering among its connections some of the most eminent citizens of the
Old Bay State, highly educated, and though modest and diffident in manner, possessing extraordinary executive ability, and an active and self-reliant disposition, this young and gifted woman, from the time of the wounding of our soldiers in
Baltimore, gave herself wholly to the work of ministering to the sick and wounded soldiers of the Army of the Potomac.
At first, owing to the obstacles which were in the way of the personal ministrations of women unconnected with the Sanitary Commission in the field, she confined her labors to the hospitals, and to the sending of supplies by trustworthy distributers to the army in the field, from
Washington.
Soon, however, this ceased to satisfy her patriotic heart, which longed to give to the wounded heroes, on the battle field or in the field hospitals, those gentle ministries which woman only can bestow.
After a severe mental struggle with those conventional ideas which declared it altogether improper for a young lady, unprotected, to go even on a 1 errand of mercy into the army,
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she went first with a car load of supplies to Culpepper Court House, just after the disastrous
battle of Cedar Mountain, on the 9th of August, 1862.
Returning to
Washington, she obtained the assistance of other ladies and one or two gentlemen as companions in her labors of love, and with another car load of supplies reached the battle field of
Bull Run at the close of the second struggle of that name, on the 30th of August, 1862.
Her coming here was almost like an angel's visit.
The surgeons, overworked by the sad necessities of that bloody fray, which had come upon a succession of previous battles, were just ready to give out and abandon their work in despair.
They were without bandages, without cordials, without lights, without food for themselves or the wounded, when just at the moment of despair,
Miss Barton, who, finding that locomotives could not be made to work, had impressed into her service some mules, who dragged the car along the rickety track, drove up herself, greatly exhausted with her exertions, but with every thing that was needed, bandages, cordials, lights, and food, and by her own ministrations of gentleness and tenderness, recalled to life and hope many who were already far on their way into the land of shadows.
She remained on the field, amid great personal peril, during the next two days, ministering to the wounded from the
battle of Chantilly, even when surgeons fled from the field.
By the 3d of September, the army with its wounded were safe under the shelter of the fortifications around
Washington, and her vocation for the moment had ceased.
Three days later they were marching in long columns northward to meet the foe in
Maryland, and a great battle was evidently impending near
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the
Pennsylvania border.
Miss Barton promptly sought the opportunity of carrying aid and succor to those who were destined to suffer in the impending battle.
But the place where the battle would be fought was unknown, and transportation almost wholly unattainable.
With great difficulty, her friend,
General Rucker, superintendent of transportation, managed to spare her a single army wagon and one teamster.
Loading this with such supplies as her experience had taught her would be needed, and accompanied only by
Mr. C. M. Welles, a missionary of the
Free Mission Society, she started, on the morning of Sunday, September 14th, 1862, to follow the route of the army, riding in the army wagon, and sleeping in it at night.
On her route she purchased all the bread she could find at the farm-houses.
After three days of travel over the dusty roads of
Maryland, she reached
Burnside's corps after dark on the night of the 16th, and found the two armies lying face to face along the opposing ridges of hills that bound the
valley of the Antietam.
There had already been heavy skirmishing, far away on the right, where
Hooker had forded the creek, and taken position on the opposite hills; and the air was dark and thick with fog and exhalations, with the smoke of camp-fires, and the preparations for the fierce struggle of the morrow.
There was little sleep that night, and as the morning sun rose bright and beautiful over the
Blue Ridge, and its rays lit up what was soon to become the valley of death, the firing on the right was resumed.
Reinforcements soon began to move along the rear to
Hooker's support.
Believing that the place of danger was the place of duty,
Miss Barton ordered her mules to be harnessed,
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and took her place in the swift moving train of artillery that was passing.
On reaching the scene of action, they turned into a field of tall corn and drove through it to a large barn.
They were close upon the line of battle; the rebel shot and shell flew thickly around and over them, and in the barnyard and among the corn, lay wounded and bleeding men — the worst cases-just brought from the places where they had fallen.
The army medical supplies had not yet arrived, nor the Sanitary Commission stores, which indeed did not come till one or two days later; the small stock of dressings brought by the surgeons was exhausted, and the surgeons, in their desperate necessity, were endeavoring to make bandages out of corn husks.
Miss Barton opened to them her stock of bandages and dressings, and with her companion in travel proceeded to procure soft bread dipped in wine for the wounded and fainting.
In the course of the day she picked up twenty-five men who had come to the rear with the wounded, and set them to work administering restoratives, bringing and applying water, lifting men into easier positions, checking hemorrhages by extemporized tourniquets, and the use of styptics, etc., etc. At length her supply of bread was exhausted, but fortunately a part of the liquors she had brought was found to have been packed in meal, and she at once determined to prepare gruel for the men. The farm-house to which the barn belonged was discovered at a little distance, and on searching its cellar she found three barrels of flour and a bag of salt which had been hidden there by the rebels the day before.
Kettles were collected from the house, and the preparation of gruel commenced on a large scale, and as fast as cooked
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it was carried in buckets and distributed along the line for miles.
On the ample piazza of the house were ranged the operating tables, where the surgeons with terrible rapidity performed their fearful work; and on that piazza
Miss Barton kept her place from before noon till nightfall, preparing gruel, ministering to the wounded, and directing her assistants, the whole time directly under the fire of one of the fiercest battles of the war. Before night her face was as black as a negro's, and her lips and throat parched with the sulphurous smoke of battle.
But night came at last, and with it a cessation of the deadly conflict.
The dead and wounded lay everywhere.
Amid the rows of corn, in the barn, in the yard, and on the piazza, and in the rooms of the house, they were laid so thickly that it was difficult to move between the rows.
As the night closed in, the surgeon in charge looked despairingly at a bit of candle, and said it was the only one on the place, and no one could stir till morning A thousand men dangerously wounded and suffering fearfully with thirst lay around that building, and if not succored many must die before the morning's light.
It was a fearful thing to die alone and in the dark, but for aught he could see, it must come to that.
Miss Barton replied, that profiting by her experience at
Chantilly, she had brought with her thirty lanterns and an abundance of candles.
It was worth a journey to
Antietam to see the joy and hope that beamed from the faces of the wounded, when they learned that they were not to be left in darkness through that long, sad night, and found that it was due to her careful forethought which had provided for the;r needs.
On the morrow the
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fighting had ceased, but the work of caring for the wounded was resumed and continued all day. On the third day the regular supplies arrived, and
Miss Barton having exhausted her small stores, and finding that her protracted fatigue and watching was bringing on a fever, turned her course toward
Washington.
It was with difficulty that she was able to reach home, where she was confined to her bed for some time.
About the 23d of October, 1862, another great battle being expected in the vicinity of
Harper's Ferry, she left
Washington with a well appointed and heavily laden train of six wagons and an ambulance, with seven teamsters and thirty-eight mules.
The government furnished transportation and the support of its teamsters, but the supplies were mostly procured from her own means or the contributions of friends.
Her teamsters were rough and ruffianly fellows, who had no disposition to be commanded by a woman, and who mutinied when they had gone but a few miles.
Perfectly self-possessed and dignified in her manner,
Miss Barton directed them to proceed, and stated to them the course she should pursue if they continued insubordinate, and they sulkily returned to their duty, venting their oaths and imprecations, however, on every thing in their way. She overtook the army as it was crossing the
Potomac below
Harper's Ferry.
Her teamsters refused to cross.
She summoned them to her ambulance, and gave them the alternative of crossing peaceably and behaving themselves as they should, or of being instantly dismissed and replaced by soldiers.
They knew very well that their dismission under such circumstances would be followed by their arrest and punishment, and having become convinced by this time
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that this gentle and winning woman possessed sufficient resolution and determination to act promptly and vigorously, they yielded, and from that day forward gave her no further trouble, obeying readily her every request.
The expected battle did not come off, but in its place there was a race for
Richmond between the opposing armies.
The Army of the Potomac had the advantage of interior lines, keeping for some time along the eastern base of the
Blue Ridge, while the rebel army followed the, course of the
Shenandoah.
There was a struggle at every gap in the
Blue Ridge, the rebels usually gaining possession of the pass first, and endeavoring to surprise some portion of the
Union army as it passed, or to capture a part of the supply trains.
Thus every day brought its battle or skirmish, and its additions to the list of the sick and wounded; and for a period of about three weeks, until Warrenton Junction was reached, the national army had no base of operations, nor any reinforcements or supplies.
The sick were carried all this time over the rough roads in ambulances or the hard, jolting army wagons.
Miss Barton with her wagon train accompanied the Ninth Army Corps, as general purveyor for the sick.
Her original supply of comforts was very considerable, and her men contrived to add to it every day such fresh provisions as could be gathered from the country.
At each night's encampment, they lighted their fires and prepared fresh food and necessary articles of diet for the moving hospitals.
Through all that long and painful march from
Harper's Ferry to
Fredericksburg, those wagons constituted the hospital, larder, and kitchen for all the sick within reach.
At Warrenton Junction she left her train in charge of a friend like-minded with
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herself, and hastened to
Washington for fresh supplies, with which she soon rejoined the army at
Falmouth.
The great and disastrous
battle of Fredericksburg was approaching, and she felt that there was ample work for her to do. The
Lacy House, at
Falmouth, where she had her quarters at first, was a mark for the enemy's fire, and more than one shell crashed through the house, and passed her as she was engaged in her work of mercy, but she was too calm and fearless to be disturbed by them.
At the time of the attack of the 11th of December, she was at the bank of the river, and received the wounded Union men, as well as the
Rebel wounded who were brought over as prisoners.
An incident which occurred at this time may serve to show the spirit of the woman.
Among those who were brought to the hither shore of the
Rappahannock was a rebel lieutenant, mortally wounded, a man of culture and intelligence.
Her sympathies and ministrations were bestowed alike upon friend and foe; that a man was wounded and suffering was ever a sufficient passport to her kindly offices.
Thus it happened that this young rebel officer was tenderly cared for, and though it was evident that his life could not be prolonged, his pains were assuaged, his suffering alleviated, and the passage into the dark valley smoothed by her care and attention.
He was deeply grateful for these kindnesses received from the hands of those whom he had regarded as enemies, and, seeing that she was about to cross the river to
Fredericksburg, where her services were needed to organize the temporary hospitals there, he beckoned to her, and, in a voice broken by the pangs of dissolution, implored her not to go over.
He unfolded to her, in gratitude
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for her kindness, the plan of the rebel commander to draw the
Union army into a trap, by withholding his fire till they had all crossed the
Rappahannock, and then opening upon them from all his batteries, which covered every point of their progress.
He assured her that to cross over was to go to certain death, and begged, that for his sake and that of the thousands of wounded sure to need her services, she would remain on that side of the
Rappahannock.
Of course she could not reason with him, but her mind was made up that she must cross the river;, the soldiers of the Ninth Army Corps, to whom she had so often ministered, were there, and she could not let them fall in the fierce battle that was impending, without being near them to minister relief and comfort to soul and body.
Accordingly she went over, and was received with the most cordial of welcomes by the Ninth Corps, who regarded her as almost their guardian angel.
She at once organized hospital kitchens, provided supplies for the wounded, and when the wounded men were brought in, sought to alleviate their sufferings.
While thus engaged, one day, some soldiers came to her quarters, bringing an elegant
Axminster carpet, whose great weight almost crushed them to the ground.
“What is this?”
asked
Miss Barton.
“A carpet we have brought for your quarters,” answered the soldiers.
“Where did you get it?”
asked
Miss Barton.
“Oh! We confiscated it!”
the soldiers replied promptly.
“No! No!”
said
Miss Barton, “that will never do. Government confiscates, but soldiers, when they take such things, steal!
I thank you for the kind spirit which prompted you to bring it to me, and am very sorry, but you must carry it back
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to the house from which you took it.”
The soldiers scratched their heads, looked sheepishly at each other,but finally gathered up the carpet, and with infinite pains tugged it back to the house from which they had taken it. In the skilfully managed retreat from
Fredericksburg, she remained till the wounded were mostly across, and then tripped across the pontoon bridge just before its removal.
On the
Falmouth side she established a private kitchen and hospital for the wounded, and occupied an old tent, while her train was encamped round her, performing the cooking in the open air, though it was midwinter.
When the wounded from the attack on the rebel batteries were recovered by flag of truce, fifty of them were brought to her camp at night.
They had lain for several days in the cold, and were badly wounded, famished, and almost frozen.
She had the snow cleared away promptly, large fires built, and the men wrapped in blankets.
An old chimney was torn down, the bricks heated in the fire, and placed around them.
She prepared warm and palatable food and hot toddy for them, and they were allowed to partake of both freely enough to insure them a comfortable night's sleep, and in the morning the medical officers took them in charge.
Soon after
General Hooker superseded
General Burnside,
Miss Barton went to
Hilton Head, South Carolina, to be present at the combined military and naval attack to be made on
Charleston on the 7th of April.
That attack, it will be remembered, was a failure, though not accompanied with much loss of life.
Miss Barton remained at
Hilton Head for several weeks, visiting the hospitals, and caring for the welfare of a dear brother, who was an officer in the army there; but
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when
General Gillmore moved on his expedition against
Morris Island, she could no longer remain away from her work, and accompanied the expedition.
Pitching her tent on the sand of
Morris Island, and herself engaging in the drudgeries of the kitchen, she ministered to the soldiers, who, amid the burning heat of the
Southern sun, were besieging simultaneously
Fort Sumter and
Fort Wagner, and awaited the fierce and bloody assaults which she knew were coming.
When
Wagner was stormed and the assault repulsed, she went to the relief of the wounded, wading through the deep sand, and putting the cool water and the refreshing restoratives to their parched lips, while she staunched their bleeding wounds, and brought life and healing to those that were ready to perish.
Throughout that long, hot summer, when all who could fled to cooler climes, she toiled on. “Some one,” she said, “must see to these poor wounded and fever-stricken men, and, as others could not or would not, it seemed to be her duty to do it.”
More than once her health seemed about to give way, but she held out, and did not leave the island till winter, when, she said, she had become so accustomed to the shriek of the shells from
Gillmore's monster guns, that she could not sleep at first, when no longer lulled to slumber by their music.
In January, 1864, she returned to the
North, and after a brief visit to her friends in
Massachusetts and New York, returned to
Washington, and employed herself in preparation for the great campaign of the summer of 1864.
Her great services were recognized by the
Government, and she was assigned to a position of usefulness and responsibility in connection with the Army of the James, in which,
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with the liberal supplies at her command, she was able to accomplish perhaps as much for the soldiers' comfort during this protracted campaign as in all her previous history.
In January, 1865, she was recalled to
Washington by the sickness and death of a brother and nephew, and did not again join the army in the field.
She could not rest, however, while the soldiers were suffering, and after spending some time at
Annapolis in the care of the poor fellows who had suffered so cruelly in the rebel prisons, she returned to
Washington, and, with the sanction of
President Lincoln, commenced the work of making a systematic record of the missing soldiers of the
Union armies, and ascertaining their whereabouts, condition, and fate.
The organization of this bureau of correspondence in relation to the missing soldiers required records, and the employment of six or eight clerks, beside an infinity of labor on her part.
At the request of the
Secretary of War, she visited
Andersonville with
Captain James M. Moore and
Dorrence Atwater, a soldier who had been a prisoner there, and superintended the establishment of a cemetery there, and the erection of headboards for the thirteen thousand Union dead there, the greater part of them murdered by the inhumanities of rebel officers and guards.
In this bureau of correspondence and her previous labors in behalf of the soldier,
Miss Barton had exhausted her own patrimony and resources, and partly in payment for these expenditures, and partly to enable her to keep up her organization, which was of very great value to Government, especially in regard to pensions, Congress made an appropriation to her, in January, 1866, of fifteen thousand dollars. To few persons, however heartily disposed they may
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have been to undertake the work, has been vouchsafed so firm a constitution, and such rare executive ability as have been granted to
Miss Barton; and these gifts, added to a sound judgment, a clear head, and a zeal which never flags, have enabled her to accomplish a vast amount of good for the army.
History will record few examples of higher, more earnest, and more continuous patriotic endeavor, than those which have graced the name of this young and gifted woman.
To her belongs pre-eminently, the noble title, often bestowed on her, of “
the soldier's guardian angel.”
Military etiquette.
Lieutenant--, of the Third Rhode Island Heavy Artillery, at one of the posts in the Department of the South, while on duty in a carriage, had the kindness to favor a staff officer with a ride.
On meeting a private of a colored regiment, who paid the required salute, which was properly returned by the lieutenant, the following dialogue, in substance, ensued:
Staff Officer.--“Do you salute niggers?”
Lieutenant.--“He is a soldier; and he saluted me.”
Staff Officer.--“I swear that I wont salute a nigger.”
Lieutenant.--“The regulations require you to return a salute.”
Staff Officer.--“Curse such regulations; I'll never salute a nigger; and I don't think much of a man that will.”
Lieutenant-(coolly reining in his horse.)-“You can get out and walk, sir.”
The official was consigned to shoe leather and the sand, with the reflection, we could hope.
that he was less of a man than a soldier.
