Читать книгу Angels of the Battlefield - Barton George Aaron - Страница 7

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The adventures of three Sisters who were detailed from the mother house at Emmitsburg. Their offer to retire in the interest of the ladies of Winchester. A night’s “repose” with foreheads resting upon umbrella handles. A journey homeward by car and stage, and then across the Potomac River in a flat canoe. A Sister received at the convent as one from the grave.

GRANT.

Nearly all the Sisters that could be spared had been sent from the mother house at Emmittsburg, and were engaged in performing works of charity on the battlefields and in the various camps and hospitals. On June 7, 1861, a telegram was received from the authorities asking that a number of Sisters be detailed to serve the sick and wounded soldiers at Harper’s Ferry.

In spite of the severe strain that it entailed upon their available assignments, the Superiors made the sacrifice of sending three Sisters. These brave women left Emmittsburg on June 9 for Frederick City. Mother Ann Simeon cautioned them to act with prudence, lest they meet with trouble, as they had the Northern Army and its sentinels to pass in order to reach their destination. An orderly had been sent to escort them, but the Sisters passed their intended guide without knowing it, he going by them on the road to Emmittsburg.

An expected engagement kept villagers and farmers quietly at home. Men cautiously whispered their fears or opinions, and the sight of people bold enough to travel just then was a matter that occasioned mild surprise. For this reason the Sisters tried to huddle in the rear of the stage coach, hoping to pass unobserved. During a brief halt for the mail in one little town the driver opened the stage door and handing in a letter said in a loud voice:

“Sisters, a gentleman in Emmittsburg desires you to put this letter in a Southern post office after you have crossed the line.”

The eyes of the curious and astonished people were on them in a moment. The Sisters were not aware that the driver knew of their destination, but they remained quiet and made the best of the incident. The heat was excessive. One of the horses gave out on the way, and another had to be hastily substituted. After some delay the party arrived in Frederick City. A few sentinels stood here and there, but no one paid much attention to the new arrivals. Before they started again, however, a number of men gathered around their carriages, saying: “Why, ladies, where are you going?” Several of the men asked questions at the same time, but the Sisters stared at them blankly, and civilly answered anything except what the gossips most desired to know.

As hostilities had stopped the railway cars the pilgrims had to continue their journey in the stage-coach. Almost sick with heat they journeyed on until another horse succumbed. This meant more trouble and suspense, but it was borne with heroic patience.

The most exciting adventure was yet to come. The rocks of the Maryland Heights on one side, and the Potomac River on the left, came in view. Just as the carriage was, seemingly, proceeding smoothly on its way there came a sudden grating sound and then an abrupt stop. “We’re stuck!” ejaculated the driver, with more force than elegance. The carriage was so tightly fastened that it was feared the vehicle would have to be abandoned and the remainder of the journey made upon foot. The driver swore and stormed about, while the Sisters meekly looked on in silence, fearing to further irritate him with suggestions. Finally the carriage was extricated and the pilgrims proceeded upon their way.

About twilight the Southern pickets were seen, for the South still held a portion of Maryland. The first soldier inquired where the Sisters were going, and with what intent. He then passed them on to the next guard, and so on until they came to the last, who said: “We have just received such strict orders regarding persons crossing in or out that it is not in my power to pass you on.” The captain of the guards was sent for, however, and the Sisters were transferred over the Potomac Bridge. Great cargoes of powder had already been placed on this bridge, so that, in the event of the enemy’s approach it might be destroyed.

Harper’s Ferry is at the junction of the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers, the Potomac separating Maryland and Virginia. A summit above the town, standing between the two rivers, is called Bolivar Heights. On this elevation was located the military hospital where the Sisters were to labor. A neat little Catholic church was located about midway between the valley and the town.

BOMBARDMENT OF FORT SUMTER.

The hospital was filled with the sick, and around the town lay thousands of men just arrived from the most remote Southern States. A cold wet spell had preceded the present heat, and many of the men were ill and lay in their tents until vacancies opened for them in the badly sheltered houses in the town. The men in one regiment had contracted measles on their march; this spreading among others with the exposure incidental to army life thinned their numbers before the ball and the sword had begun their quicker work.

On reaching their lodgings the Sisters found supper prepared, and after disposing of this they soon retired to rest. The stillness and darkness of the town was frightful. No sound but the Sisters’ voices or footsteps was to be heard. Not a light gleamed from the fastened windows for fear of discovery by the hidden enemy. The whole army had been sleeping or resting on their arms since their arrival, expecting an early attack.

The medical director, who had sent for the Sisters, came early in the morning and took them to the hospital. With his assistant he escorted them from room to room, introducing them and saying to the patients: “Now you will have no cause to complain of not getting nourishment, medicine and attention at the right time, for the Sisters of Charity will see to all these things.”

The town had been by turns in the possession of the North and South, and was therefore completely drained of provisions and necessary conveniences for the sick. Notwithstanding these difficulties things were beginning to look more comfortable, when a telegram was received from Winchester ordering the whole Confederate Army to repair to that town immediately. The Northern Army, it was announced, would attempt to cross the Potomac above and below Harper’s Ferry, thus surrounding the Southern Army and cutting off all supplies.

The soldiers moved at once, with the exception of those who served the sick, and those who were to collect the tents and finally destroy bridges and tracks. Provisions were cast into the river by the wholesale, in order to deprive the enemy of benefit. Then came new orders to wait a while, but the invalids had already been removed to the depot, to await the return of the cars from Winchester. Arrangements were now being made for the destruction of the bridges and tracks, and the Sisters were sent to remain with a worthy Catholic family far away from these structures. During the night one explosion after another shook the grand bridge and seemed to shake the mountains. The little Catholic church, the only one that had not been applied to military purposes, was filled and surrounded by the frightened people. The worn-out pastor was their only consoler.

The Sisters looked at the awful destruction around them, and felt encompassed with desolation. All the next day they hourly expected to be called to the cars, but no word came. They now learned that the ladies of Winchester had written to the medical director requesting him not to let the Sisters of Charity serve the sick, as they themselves would wait on them. The Sisters knew that the ladies had been enthusiastic in caring for the Confederate sick and, thinking the delay was owing to the embarrassment the doctors might experience in regard to this, one Sister, acting as spokeswoman, said to them:

“Gentlemen, we are aware of the ardor with which the Winchester ladies have labored for your poor men, and also know of their desire to serve the men alone—that is, without any aid of ours; therefore be candid enough to allow us to return to our home. If you feel any difficulty respecting the ladies of Winchester tell us. The Sisters consider it reasonable that they should wish to serve their own people, and will not be offended, but rather feel grateful for your friendly candor.”

The physicians replied that they did not care for the objections that had been made to the Sisters; that the ladies of Winchester could never do for the sick what the Sisters of Charity would do, and therefore unless the Sisters insisted on returning home the doctors would hold them to their undertaking.

The physicians begged the Sisters not to leave the town, but to await the signal for departure. Expecting all day and even until 11 P. M. to be sent for, and feeling that rest was absolutely necessary, the Sisters were preparing for bed when the kind lady of the house came into their room, saying: “My dear, poor Sisters, a wagon and your baggage are at the door for you.” They soon left their benevolent hostess, who wept to see them pursuing such hardships. It was a genuine farm wagon, with two negroes as drivers. The worthy pastor of Harper’s Ferry, who was determined not to leave the Sisters entirely to strangers, attended to their trunks and found seats for them. The heavy spray from both rivers was thick in the air. Here and there a star appeared between broken clouds, giving barely light enough to see the sentinels at their posts. One of these, advancing, asked the countersign, which the pastor gave him. The wagon, running on the high terrace edge of the Potomac River, made, with the darkness, a gloomy prospect for the Sisters.

On reaching the depot an officer met them and offered to find them a shelter until the cars would arrive. He took them across two boards that formed a temporary bridge. By the aid of his lantern they could see water on either side of them, so that they had to watch carefully and pick their steps lest they slip off the boards. At last he opened the door of a little hut, which was almost washed by the river. Here they entered and sat down, resting their foreheads on their umbrellas until between 3 and 4 o’clock, when a rumbling outside announced the arrival of the cars. The train reached Winchester five hours later. Almost the entire town was occupied by soldiers, so that accommodations at hotels were not to be had for any consideration. The zealous priest, who was still with the Sisters, took them to the church, and afterwards went in search of lodgings for them.

The church, which was of stone, and was one of the poorest old buildings in the place, was located in the suburbs. A crowd of ignorant and curious men and children followed the Sisters as they walked to the edifice. As they entered the church the bystanders crowded in and about the door. When the Sisters went by turns to the confessional the village men and boys hurried outside and peeped through the cracks at the penitents, peering into their very faces. Soon the priest went out and as he did so he shut and locked the door after him. After some time he returned, although the Sisters feared that it was just possible he had lost his mind and would not come back. They knew his hardships had been excessive, because, besides being sick and without food or sleep, he had many other inconveniences to contend with. But he returned and took them to a plain, worthy Catholic family.

The following morning being Sunday they walked to the church, and just at the gate had to halt to let a company of soldiers, on their way to Mass, enter the church. About twenty or thirty Catholics constituted the congregation usually, but on this day the soldiers and Sisters made quite a crowded assembly. After that the Sisters waited patiently for the doctors to take them to the scene of their labors. The Reverend Dr. Costello had called on them from time to time, informing the authorities that the Sisters were ready to go to work among the sick. The medical director finally asked them if they must remain in one hospital, or whether each Sister could take charge of a separate one. He was informed that their number was too small to divide and they would remain at one of the hospitals.

The heads of families in the city of Winchester remained in town, while grown-up daughters and children were sent to country seats, the mothers of these staying at their houses, receiving and serving as many sick soldiers as they could. The Sisters received much kindness from these ladies, for they knew that the common rations of the soldiers were very rough. Indeed, one of the greatest distresses of the Sisters at this time was that they had not more for the poor sick.

The Sisters began their labors in one of the largest hospitals in Winchester. They worked incessantly day and night, frequently not pausing long enough to take necessary food and nourishment for themselves. Such labor began to show on them, especially as they were only three in number. The doctors said that while more nurses were needed there would be no way of sending for more Sisters except by one of them going home and returning with the others. Affairs had reached such a crisis that only the Sisters of Charity could travel now. One of them finally started off for the mother house, going by car, then by stage, and then crossing the Potomac in a flat canoe. Then she traveled by foot as fast as possible, and after running for a mile reached the railroad car before it left the station.

The evening of next day she reached St. Joseph’s, at Emmitsburg, where she was received as if from the grave. The anxious Superiors had heard nothing from or of the Sisters except what meagre news was published of the movements of the two armies. Sister Euphemia, afterwards Mother Superior, left St. Joseph’s at once with three companions for Winchester, to relieve the Sisters there. At the same time a telegram was sent to Sister Valentine at St. Louis instructing her to go immediately and replace Sister Euphemia in Winchester, who was to proceed farther southward, for in Richmond, Va., the Sisters were almost overcome with continuous duty. The Sisters, now six in number, continued their labors in Winchester until very few remained in the hospitals. The convalescent members of the army had been leaving Winchester for some days, going towards Richmond. The Sisters themselves finally proceeded towards Richmond.