The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1910-02-24
Civil War Stories
True story Of the War.

doctor had made his morning prescrip-
tions a soldier from an Illinois regi-
ment-I thiSk it was the Forty-first;
however, that is immaterial-and
placed on a cot next to us. He was
pitiable to look at emaciated, hollow
eyed. sunken, distorted, helpless. Yet
the heroic spirit within him was
acquainted. He talked about going
home. that his three years were almost
completed; that his brother would be
here in a few days and that they
would go home together; that the war
was ended and soon all the soldiers
would be discharged and sent home.
He continued in this strain for some
time. then fell asleep. But his sleep
was fitful, fevered. disturbed, restless.
His mind wandered. his fevered brain
would not let the body rest Some
times he would bolt right up in bed.
looking wildly about him, and then
fall back on his cot limp and exhaust
ed In his fevered revelry he would
sometimes stretch out his bony hands
towards us, staring wildly. gesticulat-
ing vehemently. These strange antics
from fellow soldier made our blood
run chill However. he Soon, became
more quiet and still.
The afternoon was slowly waning
away; the dark magnolia trees that
stood close by the hospital were length
ening out their shadows; the spring
zePhyrs were signing and soughing
among their branches. the sun was
dipping. dipping into the pine forests
that girded the western horizon Now
and then could be heard the clear
notes of the hooking bird. Everything
seemed quiet and peaceful. 1t was at
this opportune moment that thrilling
incident occurred. and which all who
saw and heard could never forget, and
which was the cause of this writing.
A young lady of exquisite beauty,
grace and loveliness of person entered
the ward, chaperoned by the head
steward. She walked Slowly down the
aisle, between the long rows of mar
row cots, looking first on one side and
then on the other. until she came OPP
posite to where we were lying. and
then sat down on low stool in the
aisle between the cot occupied by my
soldier brother from Illinois and our
own She sat there for a moment or
two. looking smilingly yet pityingly
upon US. Then in voice that seemed
to us the very essence of music she
exclaimed. Soldiers, is there anything
| can do for you?" After waiting
moment. We ventured to say that for
our part we would be pleased to hear
her sing Responses came quickly from
their cots. Aye. aye; yes, good lady.
10 sing for us"
She hesitated moment, faint,
soft flush suffused and heightened the
toveliness of a face which we shall
never forget-and have no desire TO
even If we could. Without further ado
she commenced to sing softly and
sweetly that immortal hymn Of
Sharles Wesley:
Jesus. loved of my soul
Let me to thy bosom Il
While the nearer waters rui
While the tempest still is Disa.
Hide me. o my Saviour hide
Till the storm of life is past:
Safe into the haven guide.
oh. receive my soul at last
Other refuge have ! none.
Hangs my helpless soul on thee
Leave. oh leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on thee is stayed.
All my help from thee / bring.
Cover my defenseless head
With the shadow of thy wing.
Thou. o Christ. art all want
More than all in thee / find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint
Heal the sick. and lead the blind.
Just and holy is thy name
| am all unrighteoGsness,
False and full of sin / am.
Thou art full of truth and grace"
As the last words of the third verse
we're falling from the lips of that
beautiful singer in sweet cadence on
our enraptured sense, suddenly the dy-
ing soldier on my right sprang IN in
his bed, and looking wildly about him
exclaimed, What, did not hear my
mothers sweet voice singing for her
boy like she used to do in the long
ago? Nay, nay, it cannot be- She's
been dead and gone these MANY wears
All. now | know and a heavenly
smile fitted across his deathIy face.
A momentary pause, and again he ex.
claimed, All, now know. She's
coming with the angels in glory to wei
come her boy. to guide her boy safely
home at last. Home at last" His
hands were stretched out heavenward.
His pale. wan face shone with radi-
ance that was heaven born, and with
the whispered words on his lips.
Home at last" he fell back on his
couch dead There were no dry eyes
among the soldiers in that upper ward
in Marine Hospital on that May after
noon Our lady visitor was much af-
fected. We never saw her fair face
again, only in the picture gallery of
memory. Her voice. her song, her
face with their thrilling environments
are indelibly photographed in mem
ory's mystic halls.
The poor soldier was carried to the
deadhouse. It was a heartrending
spectacle to behold next day the sor
0wstricken brother who came to the
hospital to take his brother home, not
knowing that he was dead. The poor
fellow returned to his regiment with
saddened heart. But this was only
one instance out OF thousands to illus
trate that the great war wasn't all
fun; that the comic. the ludicrous, the
funny was only one phase of the war.
There was a sadder side TO it. the pa
thetic. the tragic, the cruel, the sick
ening, the bloody. Forty-four years of
oh 70 hn