The boys in white : $b The experience of a hospital agent in and around Washington — John Shaqi
The boys in white : $b The experience of a hospital agent in and around WashingtonWheelock, Julia S. (Julia Susan)
History
The boys in white : $b The experience of a hospital agent in and around Washington
Wheelock, Julia S. (Julia Susan)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Hospitals
THE BOYS IN WHITE.
_CHAPTER I._
RETROSPECT--HOME-LEAVING--LAKE
ERIE--ALLEGHANIES--ACCIDENT--WASHINGTON--PROVOST MARSHAL--THE
PRESENTIMENT--BLIGHTED HOPES--ORVILLE WHEELOCK--MY BROTHER’S GRAVE.
ALEXANDRIA, VA., _Oct. 1, 1862_.
Well, here I am, strange as it seems, in the rebellious city of
Alexandria! Alone, among strangers, hundreds of miles from home and
kindred, surrounded by scenes new and strange; scenes of sadness, of
suffering, of death.
As I look over the past, it does not seem possible that only three
weeks have elapsed since leaving home. Oh! what a lifetime one may live
in a very short period, when it is measured by heart-throbs instead
of years. While retrospecting, memory goes back to the morning of
the 10th of the month just closed. Its dawn is calm and beautiful.
Nine o’clock finds me in the old red school-house in the township
of Ionia, Michigan, where are assembled the rural children and youth
for instruction. All are joyous and happy. Three days more and the
term will close. This day promises to end as it began, full of joy
and gladness--yet, knowing that the fearful battles of Bull Run and
Chantilly had recently been fought, we were anxiously waiting for
tidings from the loved one who had gone to battle for the “dear old
flag,” and, if need be, die to maintain its honor. But the interval
that had elapsed since the occurrence of those bloody conflicts gave
us reason to hope that _our_ soldier brother was safe. Nor voice, nor
spirit, nor sighing wind, nor playful breeze, told of the future. But
time on rapid wing approached with tidings the most heart-crushing. A
child is made the bearer of the sad message.
About three o’clock, while engaged in hearing a recitation, there is
a gentle tap at the door--a little girl steps upon the threshold; her
eyes are red with weeping, and, in great agitation, she says: “Orville
is wounded; his limb is amputated. He has sent for Anna, and she
starts for Washington to-morrow!” My womanly heart said, that “Orville
Wheelock, my brother, must not suffer alone. I will accompany Anna to
Washington.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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