Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1856-05-30
The Horrors Of War--Letter By a
Russian Sister of Mercy.


last wrote you, and now l could again ell
pages with the events of the one single
night between Tuesday and Wednesday,.
Oh, how much should have to tell you,
but how, or with what words My God,
what horror is war What unnatural
cruelty it isl In the night between Mon
day and Tuesday our men were ordered
to dig fresh trenches and throw up bat
teries, with strong force to protect the
workmen.
We were all night prepared for an attack,
but it passed off quietly, and the whole
of Tuesday was calm and still. In the
evening all was again expectation every
preparation was made. Several rows of
mattresses were laid on the ground small
tables were arranged, with Hgths and
writing materials upon them. The at
tendants were placing heaps of lint, BAN
dages, dressings, short sterine candles,
and medicines upon table. In one cor
ner stood a large samoan, "a camp kettle,)
and near it two small tables, with small
teapots and cups. On the other side was
a table, covered with brandy, wine lem
onade, tumbIers, and wine-glasses. The
room is nearly dark, and peculiar still
ness reigns around, as in the air before a
thunderstorm. Fifteen surgeons, and
more, are seated around Pirogof in the
room for operations, or walking up and
down in pairs The officer and the Sm0ra-
tel, superintendent who have 10 see
hat every thing is in readiness, are bust
ly moving about, or are fetching in more
medical help and attendance.
Gas you stand at the door, or look out
through the lofty windows at both sides
of the room, you see a bright quiet night,
for the moon is shining and the stars are
twinking without a cloud. Between nine
and ten O'Clock there is a flash like that
Of lightning at the windows, and suddenly
it roars till every pane of glass rattles.
By degrees fash follows flash more fire.
quent and rapidly you can no longer dis
tinguish the shots from each other. The
fifth and sixth bastions are lit up with
fire; but the enemy's bombs do not reach
the city. We sit and listen, ever in the
same sort of twilight, and about an hour
passes over. Then comes a litter, another
| and another-it has begun. The candles
are lit, folks run hurriedly backward and
forward, and the room is soon filed with
men. The floor is covered with the woun-
ded-everywhere, where they can sit,
they who have crawIed in, do sit. How
they shrek What a DIM He'll is let
loose around US. You cannot here the
thunder of the guns for this wailing and
groaning. That one screams, but not in
words. This one cries, Save me, breth-
rem save" Another sees the brandy on
the table, and entreats me, "Be kind
mother to me and give me a DRAM" In
all directions voices are heard moaninglv
entreating the surgeons, who are probing
the wounds, "Good, my lord, do not rack
me-" 1 myself walk with great difficulty
between the rows of stretchers, and crv
out, "Come here, my men, and take him
to GustscznskTs house"-that is where
the hOpelessly wounded are carried :
stake this man upon this bed" Now
they bring in officers, too. The room is
crowded densely with the wounded, but
operations are not to be thought of at this
moment. God give Us but time to bind
up the wounds of all. We sisters are all
busily engaged.
"They are bringing in an officer; his
face is deluged with blood l wash it off :
meanwhile he takes laboriously out of his
snap-purse some money for the soldiers
who brought him to drink his health. I
have seen many do the same thing. I
kneel on the floor to light the doctor
wounded man has been shot in the breast
Ito see lift ball has gone right through.
L place my hand right under his back and
feel Tor the wound. You may think how
he hes weltering in his gore; but enough.
lou would shudder if l were to describe
to you all the fortunes and agonies / wit
messed that night. Dawn comes at last.
and the firing ceases. We have little
garden-picture it to your mind; well.
there are wounded lying there also. I
took brandy and ran down to it. while
the sun was rising most gloriously over
the bay, amid the twittering of birds, in
the shade Of accacias full of white bios
SONS. Hound thirty or Whereabouts all
grievously wounded, most ofthem already
at the point Of death. My Maker and
my Lord what contrast to this sweet
spring morning! begged two of the
inhabitants, who had been helping most
diligently all night to carry the wounded,
to take these Immediately to the hospital.
Thank heaven, the bringing in of the