Under the guns : $b A woman's reminiscences of the Civil WarWittenmyer, Annie
History
Under the guns : $b A woman's reminiscences of the Civil War
Wittenmyer, Annie
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Personal narratives
I went over and stood beside his cot. “I am glad to see you looking so
much better,” I said enthusiastically. He shook his head. “Oh, yes you
are; and now what can I bring you to eat? I’ll bring you something real
nice; what shall it be?”
“Nothing.” And he turned his face away in disgust.
“I’ll tell you what you can eat;” for I suddenly remembered that I
had seen a lot of birds hanging in a meat-shop as I came down to that
hospital; “you can eat a nice broiled bird.”
He looked up in surprise with a ghost of a smile on his face. “Maybe I
could.”
“Why, of course you could; and I will go right away and get one for
you.”
“It will be too much trouble.”
“No, it will not be a bit of trouble. You lie still and think what good
eating a bird is till it comes.”
I hurried away lest he should change his mind, bought some birds,
and took them to the Christian Commission Home, where there was an
excellent cook.
“Aunt Debby,” I said, as I marched into the kitchen with the birds, “I
want you to broil two of these birds the very best you can. A soldier’s
life depends upon them.”
“Laws, missus! You ’most scare me to death talking dat way. I’ze weak
as a rag, and ken do nuthen.”
“But you’ll do it right, and then the soldier will get well. I’ll help
you.”
In a very short time two birds nicely broiled, and dressed with a
little fresh butter and a pinch of salt and pepper, lay in the bottom
of a hot covered dish. A card with the name of the hospital, the name
of the soldier, and the number of his cot, was attached to the basket;
and a half-grown colored boy in service at the house was intrusted with
it, and bore it away in haste.
“Take notice, Ben, what he does and says, so you can tell us when you
come back,” was my last injunction.
In due time Ben came back, laughing. “Did he eat them?” I questioned
eagerly.
“O missus, you o’ter ’a’ seen ’im. I sot don the basket and tooked off
de cover and held the birds up close tu ’im; an’ my, but it did smell
good! He jus’ gim it one look, den he grab one an’ begun to eat. But
I wus a-holden de dish dar, an’ he seed t’other bird, and he grabbed
dat, an’ he dove his han’ dow under ’is piller an’ brung out an ole
newspaper, and he wrapped up t’other bird and chucked it down under his
piller, and den he went on eaten as fast as he could. Oh, golly, but
wusent he hungry!” And Ben doubled himself up and laughed as only a
colored boy can laugh.
The next day I was called away to Chattanooga, and so I left all
my work in other hands. While in Chattanooga, General Hood marched
northward and broke the lines of communication between Nashville and
Chattanooga, and I was detained there several weeks. The very day after
my return I was on the streets of Nashville, and a soldier met me with
great cordiality.
“I don’t believe you know me,” he said.
“No, I don’t remember to have ever met you before,” I replied.
“I’m the man you sent the birds to.”
“I am glad to see you. How is it that you are up and out so soon?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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