United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
The girl made the acquaintance of the Union wounded with feelings in
which doubt, curiosity and sympathy were strangely blended. Her regard
for Scoville added to her peculiar interest in his compatriots. They
were the enemies of whom she had heard so much, having been represented
as more alien and foreign than if they had come across the seas and
spoke a different tongue. How they would receive her had been an
anxious query from the first, but she quickly learned that her touch of
kindness made them kin--that they welcomed her in the same spirit as
did her own people, while they also were animated by like curiosity and
wondering interest in regard to herself. A woman's presence in a field
hospital was in itself strange and unexpected. That this woman should
be a Southern girl, whose lovely features were gentle in commiseration,
instead of rigid from an imperious sense of duty to foes, was a truth
scarcely accepted at first. Its fuller comprehension began to evoke a
homage which troubled the girl. She was too simple and honest to accept
such return for what seemed the natural offices of humanity; yet, while
her manner and words checked its expression, they only deepened the
feeling.
At first she could scarcely distinguish among the bronzed, begrimed
faces, but before the day passed there were those whose needs and
personal traits enlisted her special regard. This was true of one
middle-aged Union captain, to whom at first she had no call to speak,
for apparently he was not very seriously wounded. Even before his face
was cleansed from the smoke and dust of battle his large, dark eyes and
magnificent black beard caught her attention. Later on, when feeding a
helpless man near him, he spoke to her and held out a photograph. She
took it and saw the features of a blond young girl scarcely as old as
herself.
"My little girl," said the officer simply. "See how she resembles her
mother. That's one reason why I so idolize her," and he handed Miss Lou
another picture, that of a sweet, motherly face, to which the former
likeness bore the resemblance of bud to blossom.
"We must try to get you well soon, so that you may go back to them,"
said Miss Lou cordially. "You are not seriously hurt, I hope?"
"No, I think not. I wanted you to see them so you can imagine how they
will look when I tell them about you. I don't need to be reminded of my
little Sadie, but I almost see her when you come among us, and I think
her blue eyes would have much the same expression as yours. God bless
you, for you are blessing those whom you regard as your enemies. We
don't look very hostile though, do we?"
"It seems a terrible mistake that you should be here at all as
enemies," she replied. "I have been taught to dread your coming more
than if you were Indians. I never can understand why men who carry such
pictures as these next their heart can fight against us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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