A Story of the Red Cross; Glimpses of Field WorkBarton, Clara
History
A Story of the Red Cross; Glimpses of Field Work
Barton, Clara
American National Red Cross
It was at the moment of supreme affliction when we arrived at Johnstown.
The waters had subsided, and those of the inhabitants who had escaped
the fate of their fellows were gazing over the scene of destruction and
trying to arouse themselves from the lethargy that had taken hold of
them when they were stunned by the realization of all the woe that had
been visited upon them. How nobly they responded to the call of duty!
How much of the heroic there is in our people when it is needed! No idle
murmurings of fate, but true to the god-like instincts of manhood and
fraternal love, they quickly banded together to do the best that the
wisest among them could suggest.
For five weary months it was our portion to live amid the scenes of
destruction, desolation, poverty, want and woe; sometimes in tents,
sometimes without; and so much rain and mud, and such a lack of the
commonest comforts for a time, until we could build houses to shelter
ourselves and those around us. Without a safe and with a dry-goods box
for a desk, we conducted financial affairs in money and material to the
extent of nearly half a million dollars.
I shall never lose the memory of my first walk on the first day--the
wading in mud, the climbing over broken engines, cars, heaps of iron
rollers, broken timbers, wrecks of houses; bent railway tracks tangled
with piles of iron wire; bands of workmen, squads of military, and
getting around the bodies of dead animals, and often people being borne
away; the smouldering fires and drizzling rain--all for the purpose of
officially announcing to the commanding general (for the place was under
martial law) that the Red Cross had arrived in the field. I could not
have puzzled General Hastings more if I had addressed him in Chinese;
and if ours had been truly an Oriental mission, the gallant soldier
could not have been more courteous and kind. He immediately set about
devising means for making as comfortable as possible a "poor, lone
woman," helpless, of course, upon such a field. It was with considerable
difficulty that I could convince him that the Red Cross had a way of
taking care of itself at least, and was not likely to suffer from
neglect.
Not a business house or bank left, the safes all in the bottom of the
river; our little pocketbook was useless, there was nothing to buy, and
it would not bring back the dead. With the shelter of the tents of the
Philadelphia Red Cross, that joined us en route with supplies, when we
could find a cleared place to spread, or soil to hold them, with a
dry-goods box for a desk, our stenographer commenced to rescue the first
dispatches of any description that entered that desolate city. The
disturbed rivers lapped wearily back and forth, the people, dazed and
dumb, dug in the muddy banks for their dead. Hastings with his little
army of militia kept order.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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