United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Personal narratives
It would be a useful lesson to cold-blooded politicians, who calculate
on a war costing so many lives and so many limbs as they would calculate
on a horse costing so many pounds--or to the thoughtless at home, whom
the excitement of a gazette, or the glare of an illumination, more than
reconciles to the expense of a war--to witness such a scene, if only for
one hour. This simple and obvious truth was suggested to my mind by the
exclamation of a poor woman. I had two hundred and twenty wounded turned
in upon me that morning, and among others an American farmer, who had
been on the field either as a militia man or a camp follower. He was
nearly sixty years of age, but of a most Herculean frame. One ball had
shattered his thigh bone, and another lodged in his body, the last
obviously mortal. His wife, a respectable elderly looking woman, came
over under a flag of truce, and immediately repaired to the hospital,
where she found her husband lying on a truss of straw, writhing in
agony, for his sufferings were dreadful. Such an accumulation of misery
seemed to have stunned her, for she ceased wailing, sat down on the
ground, and taking her husband's head on her lap, continued long,
moaning and sobbing, while the tears flowed fast down her face; she
seemed for a considerable time in a state of stupor, till awakened by a
groan from her unfortunate husband, she clasped her hands, and looking
wildly around, exclaimed, "O that the King and the President were both
here this moment to see the misery their quarrels lead to--they surely
would never go to war again without a cause that they could give as a
reason to God at the last day, for thus destroying the creatures that He
hath made in his own image." In half an hour the poor fellow ceased to
suffer.
I never underwent such fatigue as I did for the first week at Butler's
Barracks. The weather was intensely hot, the flies were in myriads, and
lighting on the wounds, deposited their eggs, so that maggots were bred
in a few hours, producing dreadful irritation, so that long before I
could go round dressing the patients, it was necessary to begin again;
and as I had no assistant but my serjeant, our toil was incessant. For
two days and two nights, I never sat down; when fatigued I sent my
servant down to the river for a change of linen, and having dined and
dressed, went back to my work quite refreshed. On the morning of the
third day, however, I fell asleep on my feet, with my arm embracing the
post of one of the berths. It was found impossible to awaken me, so a
truss of clean straw was laid on the floor, on which I was deposited,
and an hospital rug thrown over me; and there I slept soundly for five
hours without ever turning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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