The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1883-05-24
The Girl Soldier.

II WAS detailed on duty at tn,
III United States Hospital, Tulla
sS homa, Tennessee, during the
80 spring of 1865. We had haG
an accession of new patients, anC
every ward was crowded to its ut
most capacity. The troops in the
vicinity had been augmented by
three or four new regiments, and an
epidemic of measles was at its max
imum and very fatal 1t was 6
dark time, and many youth who
had always had the comforts of {
well ordered home and the tender
care of a mother, found here a hard
couch, and with fevered brow and q
sad heart wandered in his delirium
back to the associations of child
hood with its innocent and happy
sports.
Our surgeon, Major Samuel Hart,
was a noble man, who with his
equally noble wife resided in the
town. while myself and two other
assistant surgeons occupied a lar
ger tent in the vicinity of the hos
pital. Our tent was provided with
a floor and well furnished. We had
an abundance of books and papers,
and had it not been for bad health
and the dark cloud of sectional
strife which obscured our national
sky my duties would have been
one of the pleasant episodes of
life.
Our hospital was a large three
story building, with porches, airy
rooms, and broad fire places, ana
had been designed for a tavern.
My post of duty was number three
in the third story, and had an av-
erage of about forty-five patients.
The regulations required me to see
and prescribe for them once a day,
but 1 always visited my ward twice
a day, and sometimes oftener. In
the morning attended by the ward
master l examined each patient and
prescribed. AT s o'clock p. NJ, 1 re
turned to the ward to see that the
attendants were faithful in the per-
formance of their duties and pre-
scribed for new patients, or made
changes in treatment Of the morn
ing if necessary.
Some Of our patients were very
youthful mere boys = who con-
trasted in a marked manner with
men of large frame and brawny
limbs, and strangely indeed with
men in advanced life with whitened
locks and the decrepitude of age
upon them. In this mixed and
varied crowd, with nearly every ex-
treme Of life in years, habits, talent
and culture, observed with inter
est youth who appeared to be
about eighteen years of age, very
frail and very fair, private soldier
from an eastern regiment. His
name was Charlie Il, and his
disease was the measles. Like ma
ny others, he had progressed fine
ly for few days, then grew worse,
and commenced sinking, his case
resisting all the appliances Of medi-
cal skill.
There was nothing about him
different from other boy patients
except his extreme tairness-a fem
mime mould and charm-a some
thing mos delicate and spirituelle.
His patience and address soon
gained the good will and care of
and his culture and re-
finement the respect and friendship
of all. Everything done for him
was always right, and he was CRATE
full for the smallest attention and
kindness. We became much at
tached to him without altogether
knowing the reason why, and the
anxiety for his recovery was gener
al, and manifested in more than or
binary devotion and effort. Yet,
despite this, it was but too evident
that we would soon be called upon
to place him in coffin, convey him
to the dead house, and from thence
with reversed arms and strains of
sad music, to his last resting place
among the honored dead.
1 had visited my ward for the
last time that day. My colleagues
were in their beds and I was pre-
pairing for rest when the orderly
sergeant presented himself and
said:
"The surgeon of ward number
three is wanted. Charlie II --is
dying
1 sprang to my feet
"Very well, I'll be there in q few
minutes"
1 put on my coat, picked up my
memorandum book, and was soon
at the bedside of Charlie. 1 was
often sent for. Sometimes patients
fancied themselves worse; some
times my presence was indispensi-
BILE, and very often 1 was made the
confident of some poor fellows dy-
ing message to his parents or wife
and children. There were scenes
in that hospital which 1 shall never
forget. There prayers offered that
would melt the hardest heart.
There were developments of friend
ship and love that no human author
can portray. 1 have seen a friend
linger over a dying couch, when the
exhalations of disease were as pois-
onous as the breath Of the simoom.
1 have seen the dying soldier cover
a photograph of wife, sister or sweet
heart with the kisses of fondest af-
fection or more passionate love, that
ceased only when the eye lost its
luster and the muscular grasp its