USA > Massachusetts > History of the Thirty-seventh Regiment, Mass., Volunteers, in the civil war of 1861-1865, with a comprehensive sketch of the doings of Massachusetts as a state, and of the principal campaigns of the war > Part 26
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There was opportunity now to review the work of the regiment during the trying period just passed, and the Thirty-seventh had cause for pride in the part it had taken. Both General Meade and General Neill in their reports spoke in the highest praise of the services of the brigade, and Colonel Edwards, while complimenting his entire command, after speaking of Captain Lincoln, who though suffering from the wound received in the Wilderness six days before fought with his company and received a severe wound in the side, says, " Great eredit is dne Lieuten- ant-Colonel Montagne for the manner in which he fought his regiment." The latter in fact, received the brevet of colonel for "distinguished gallantry at the battle of Spottsylvania Court House," the first brevet bestowed in the regiment.
The fire of the Thirty-seventh had probably been the most re- markable delivered by any regiment during the same length of
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HONOR, WOUNDS AND DEATHI.
time, over 400 rounds per man having been expended, and this in the midst of a continuous rain-storm. Where this fire swept over the enemy's line the bullets cut off the trunk of an oak tree 21 inches in diameter, so that the tree fell within the Confed- erate works, injuring several men of the First South Carolina regiment of McGowan's brigade. The trunk of this tree is still preserved in the War Department at Washington as a memorial of the terrible struggle at the Angle.
Intense as had been the strain on the men for so long, their morale had shown no sign of weakening. Especially was their heroic endurance tested when at one time a call was made for 50 volunteers to undertake an enterprise from which none could hope to escape alive. The full number including Captain Tyler, promptly stepped from the ranks, but the plans were changed and the sacrifice was not demanded.
The loss of the regiment had been severe, especially in officers. Lieutenant-Colonel Montagne, after being knocked down by a bullet which struck him upon the arm, inflicting a severe bruise, was wounded in the foot while leading the regiment up to hold the works with the bayonet as previously described, and after seeing the men in position was obliged to leave the field. Major Moody had previously received a severe and disabling wound in the thigh, leaving the regiment in command of Captain Donnelly. Captain Pease, the kind-hearted Christian and commander of Company B from its formation, had received a wound from which he died two days later. Second Lieutenants George S. Cooke and Joseph Follansbee, but recently promoted-brave and true men who had worthily won their shoulder-straps-were mor- tally wounded; the former already dead, and the latter clinging to life till the 23d. Besides these Captain Lincoln was seriously wounded; First Lientenants Champney and Wellman were struck. the former in the leg and the latter in the hand with a disabling injury: while Second Lieutenant Albert C. Sparks had suffered terrible wound in the chest, but fighting bravely for life he finally triumphed, contrary to all expectations.
The killed thus far since the change to Spottsylvania com- prised the following: Company A, Edward Bergley; B, George
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NINE DAYS OF CARNAGE.
N. Barnes, John McNerny; C, Sergeant George D. Chapin, Cor- poral Michael Moren, Thomas McCabe, 2d; D, Corporal William M. Kingsley; E, Colonel D. Halsey; F, Martin S. Hubbard; H, Lyman C. Bartlett, Edmund H. Sears; I, Corporal Josiah B. Hawks, Albert R. Clark, Edwin O. Wentworth; K, Michael Freeman.
The wounded, of whom several were fatally hurt, (see Roll of Honor for the classified list,) reached nearly 50, so that the reg- iment was reduced to little more than 300 members present-a trifle over half the number with which it had set forth from Brandy Station ten days before.
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CHAPTER XIV.
A GLANCE TO THE REAR.
THE WOUNDED AND DYING .- HOSPITAL SCENES AND INCI- DENTS. - THE CHRISTIAN AND SANITARY COMMISSIONS.
Any picture of soldier life, such as it is the purpose of this volume to present, would be incomplete if it did not at some time turn from the battle line, from the march and the bivouac, to glance at that vast assemblage in the rear of every battle-field where the horror and the brutality of war can best be learned- where also may be gathered some of the noblest lessons of human charity, some of the most touching examples of patriotic devo- tion, some of the truest exhibitions of heroism. There had been abundant aggregations of human sacrifice before. The bloody horrors of Bull Run had come to the sensibilities of the startled country with an unveiling of what war really meant of blood- shed and suffering; but this proved only a drop in the bucket of what followed in ever increasing volume through the peninsular campaign, Manassas, Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancellors- ville, Gettysburg,-in conjunction with the great fields of the West where in almost equal numbers the bravest of the nation were giving their lives and their life-blood in unstinted measure on the altar of a united country.
Yet all these, it seemed, had but paved the way for the terri- ble outpouring of this spring campaign of 1864. The strong regiments which went into the Wilderness on that sunny May morning in magnificent array, trusted because proved on many a trying field, shrank to mere fragments in the ordeal to which they were subjected; yet the incessant rattle and turmoil of bat- tle did not cease. When one body of troops became too much decimated to continue the struggle longer another relieved it, fresh men were hurried forward from every available point to
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A GLANCE TO THE REAR.
fill the places of the fallen. while the thunder of cannon and the rattle of musketry by day and by night, now receding, now advancing, kept up the chorus of death which was never to cease till the military power of the enemies of the Union should crumble away and dissolve.
. The struggle in the Wilderness had many peculiarities. The fighting was mostly done at close range and by infantry; hence the wounds were almost entirely inflicted by bullets, which while perhaps equally fatal did not present the horrible mangling of artillery fire. Each army had its main intrenched line and be- tween the two most of the fighting was done, charge and coun- ter charge sweeping over the same ground in some cases a half- dozen times. This entire region was therefore filled with the dead and wounded, those of the two armies mingling. Such as could crawl to one side or the other did so, since even if cap- tivity resulted it presented in the prospect less terrors than con- tinned suffering from undressed wounds, while the victim lar exposed to the hot sun and the fire of both friend and foe: or more dreadful still, to be burned alive by the forest fires which even the flash of a musket might kindle, and by which means it was estimated that not less than 200 Union wounded perished. Unavoidably the fate of many a poor fellow remains to this day wrapped in mystery. Whether in struggling through the tan- gled undergrowth, separated momentarily from his comrades, some hissing missile struck him dead, whether through untold agony his life passed slowly away with none to soothe or know the sad fate; or borne away to the wretched prison pen to yield up his life in its awful precincts,-one thing is sure, that in the great army of martyrs each name shall be sacredly enrolled and faithfully treasured.
Yet while this terrible sprinkling of stricken humanity car- peted the ground between the two lines of battle, the great bulk of the injured managed in some way to reach the rear, where every provision possible under the circumstances was made for their relief. In some convenient spot to the rear of each division or corps engaged, will be found the hastily improvised hospital. The command has perhaps marched miles on the double-quick
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FIELD WORK OF THE SURGEONS.
and is "ordered in" to hold some important position. Before the column seems to have halted the bleeding victims begin to hurry back or are borne on stretchers, seeking the prompt atten- tion which may stanch the flow of blood and save life. The surgeons, with such assistants as are available, have selected a location for the hospital, sheltered from fire and convenient to water if possible. Perhaps they have been able to pitch a few ily tents to protect from the storm or the scorching heat of the sun; more likely there may be nothing beyond the shelter of a tree, and at the best the only couch will be the bare ground, muddy or dry and parched. If a few leaves and boughs can be obtained for the worst cases there is so much in the way of lux- ury. Before even these simple preparations ean be completed the freightage of misery begins to arrive. Let a surgeon speak for himself and for his class in regard to the work which follows:
At the field hospitals the work of destruction is seen in all its horror. There wounded men by thousands are brought together, filling the tents and stretched upon every available spot of ground for many rods around. Surgeons, with never tiring energy, are ministering to their wants, giving them food, dressing their wounds or standing at the operating table re- moving the shattered fragments of limbs. Men wounded in every con- ceivable way, men with mutilated bodies, with shattered limbs and broken heads, men enduring their injuries with heroie patience, and men giving way to violent grief, men stoically indifferent, and men re- joicing that it is only a ley. To all these the surgeons are to give such relief as lies in their power, a task the very thought of which would overcome physicians at home, but upon which the army surgeon enters with as much coolness and confidence as though he could do it all at once. He has learned to do what he can, contenting himself with working day and night without respite, and often without food, until by unremit- ting but quiet toil the wants of all are relieved.
While it is unquestionably true that among medical officers, as elsewhere in the army, there were those who were unworthy and a disgrace to the service, it is equally true that the devoted surgeon often did a work quite as trying as the facing of hostile . ritle-pits, and in a way to win the undying affections of those for whom he labored. A prominent officer of the Sanitary Com- mission, who with the best of opportunities for observation spoke no hasty word, says in regard to the services performed by the medical staff at the time of which we write :
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A GLANCE TO THE REAR.
The devotion, the solicitude, the unceasing efforts to remedy the de- fects of the situation, the untiring attentions to the wounded upon their part were so marked as to be apparent to all who visited the hospitals. It must be remembered that these same officers had endured the priva- tions and fatigues of the long forced marches with the rest of the army; they had shared its dangers, for one medical officer from each regiment follows it into battle and is liable to the accidents of war, as has been repeatedly and fatally the case ; that its field hospitals are often, from the changes of the line of battle, brought under fire of the enemy, and that while in these situations the surgeons are called upon to exercise the calmest judgment, to perform the most serious and critical opera- tions, and this quickly and constantly. The battle ceasing, their labors continue. While other officers are sleeping, renewing their strength for further efforts, the medical are still toiling. They have to improvise hospitals from the rudest materials, to surmount seeming impossibilities. The work is unending, both by day and night, the anxiety is constant. and the strain upon both the mental and physical faculties unceasing.
Chaplain Morse of the Thirty-seventh, whose time was divided between his regiment at the front and the hospitals in the rear, writes interestingly of the scenes at the Wilderness, from which a few extracts will be read with interest. Referring to the en- gagement of the 5th, he pays a deserved tribute to the bravery with which the men bore their sufferings and notices the little complaining heard. One of the wounded men was in great pain when brought in, but after his wounds were dressed and a com- fortable couch provided he began singing in sweet and touching tones, "Who will care for mother now ?" All about the hos- pital worked till late into the night and by dividing their number into reliefs the labor was carried on all through the night. After a season of duty with the regiment, Mr. Morse returned with the hospital steward to the division hospital on Saturday morning, learning that numbers of his own regiment were there in need of care. He adds :
Our aid was very timely. There were some flies pitched but they did not afford space enough to protect a tenth part of the number from the scorching heat of the sun, which was almost insufferable. I provided myself with a canteen of water, a cup, a pair of scissors, bandages and lint, and went to work. I first sought ont the men of my own regiment and rendered them all possible relief. All the men I found disengaged who were well I employed in putting up screens of shelter tents to afford the wounded men a shade. Such a field of labor I never saw before.
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REMOVAL OF THE WOUNDED.
Wherever I went or in what direction I turned the men would beg in piteous tones for water, or to have their positions changed, or their wounds moistened, or for some other favor. I found several who had been wounded two days or more and their wounds had not been touched at all. I will give a single instance of the kind of relief I was enabled to furnish. I found a man in terrible agony. He had received a charge of buek shot in the calf of the leg. Fearing it might bleed too much he put a suspender around his leg just below the knee and buckled it tightly. Below that his leg was badly swollen and turning black and blue. His pants, drawers and stocking were thoroughly saturated with blood and had dried and adhered closely to the skin. I cut the suspender, and then cut off all the bloody clothing, washed his leg thoroughly, put compresses soaked in water upon the wounds, secured them with bandages, had a shelter tent put up to make a shade, and in a few minutes the man fell asleep. You can imagine how grateful he felt and how much satisfaction I experienced. So it was in numerous instances. There were wounds of all possible kinds and in all parts of the body. I worked so hard and so long that finally I became so faint and dizzy that I was obliged to go one side and lie down, fearing I might fall headlong upon wounded men. In the afternoon we loaded the ambulances as fast as they came. I remained till I succeeded in getting every man of the Thirty-seventh loaded. It was then after dark and there was to be no more transportation. About 60 poor fellows were left there on the ground. They begged piteously to be taken away, and actually cried. Surgeons and nurses remained with them, expecting to be immediately taken prisoners. Nothing has seemed so hard to me since I have been in the service as to go away and leave those suffering comrades to fall into the hands of the enemy.
This abandonment was rendered necessary when the flank movement to Spottsylvania was decided upon, all for whom any description of transportation could be provided being sent to Fredericksburg. Those who could walk had meantime started un in advance and were first to reach the city. Their treatment on entering the place can only be recalled after the lapse of 20 years with a thrill of indignation. Some 300 of them were sur- rounded by the inhabitants, led by Mayor Slaughter, and turned over to a Confederate cavalry force, who immediately marched the poor fellows to Richmond as prisoners of war. In fact the citizens of Fredericksburg displayed throughout extreme bitter- Dr's and hostility to the Union wounded and those who minis- tried to them, though motives of prudence prevented any fur- ther outrages.
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A GLANCE TO THE REAR.
Very rapidly the little city filled to its utmost capacity with the wounded. A never ceasing train of wagons wound down over the famous hights, each with its ghastly, bleeding burden. Before the tide from the Wilderness had ceased to flow that from Spottsylvania began. It was a terrible jaunt for the poor fellows. Fifteen miles of jolting ride by day and night, over abominable roads, constantly growing worse under the incessant use to which they were subjected, was no light trial for men wounded almost to death, as were thousands of those who thus came. Many died on the way. An unbroken train of army wagons went rumbling and rattling to the front loaded with supplies for the active army, and came rumbling and rattling back loaded with the wounded for whom there were no other means of transporta- tion. To attend the 30,000 sufferers 40 surgeons had been sent from the front. The number was utterly inadequate, yet it was all that could be spared, for the armies still confronted each other and the work of death was constantly going on. The handful of medical officers worked faithfully, but they were al- ready worn out with incessant labor and many broke down en- tirely and had to be sent to Washington for care and rest. The assistants and nurses were obliged to devote much of their time to burying the dead, of whom the number was great. To quote the words of another devoted surgeon at this trying time :
We are almost worked to death; my feet are terribly swollen; yet we cannot rest for there are so many poor fellows who are suffering. All day yesterday I worked at the operating table. That was the fourth day I had worked at those terrible operations since the battle commenced. and I have also worked at the tables two whole nights and part of an- other. Oh! it is awful. It does not seem as though I could take a knite in my hand to-day, yet there are hundreds of cases of amputation waiting for me. Poor fellows come and beg ahnost on their knees for the privi- lege of having the first chance. It is a scene of horror such as I never saw. God forbid that I should ever see another. * I see so many grand men dropping one by one. They are my acquaintances and friends. They look to me for help and I have to turn away heart-sick at my inability to relieve their sufferings.
In this vast assembly the Thirty-seventh regiment was repre- sented by nearly a fourth of its members, scattered throughout the town wherever it might chance; order there was none.
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THE SANITARY COMMISSION.
Anxious friends came to the city seeking loved ones who were supposed to be there, but they had no guide and could only wander about scanning each face and inquiring everywhere. Food and supplies of every kind were scarce for a time, but the government promptly forwarded an abundance, and the two noble Commissions of practical charity,-the Christian and the Sanitary,-were early on hand with supplies of delicacies and a strong corps of physicians and surgeons from civil life. Each of these organizations was a model in its way, and no sketch of the great civil war can be written without appreciative mention of their inestimably valuable work. The Sanitary Commission, es- pecially, had at this time developed its hold upon the hearts of the people and the soldiers to a wonderful degree. For the first year and a half of the war its operations though faithful had been on a comparatively small scale from want of funds, but at that time $200.000 was received from California, stimulating contributions from other states, so that thenceforth it never needed money. In the spring and summer of 1864 numerous extensive fairs were held in the cities of the North, netting large sums and enabling the Commission to render invaluable relief to the suffering and destitute. The entire amount received and used by the Commissson was not far from $5,000,000, and apart from the relief and care afforded, its work in the institution of soldiers' homes, the preparation of vital and sanitary statistics, the furnishing of information as to missing soldiers, and the collection of their pay, deserves and will ever have the gratitude of the American nation. The Christian Commission, no less devoted, in addition to its labors for the spiritual welfare of the men, lost no opportunity to minister to their physical needs.
In the lull in the great struggle at Spottsylvania one of the best-known press correspondents with the army spent a day at Fredericksburg, and a few extracts from his impressions will be of especial interest to many readers of this book :
The city is a vast hospital; churches, public buildings, private dwel- lings, stores, chambers, atties, basements, all full. There are thousands upon the sidewalk. All day long the ambulances have been arriving from the field. There are but few wounded left at the front, those only whom to remove would be certain death.
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A GLANCE TO THE REAR.
A red flag has been flung out at the Sanitary Commission rooms,-a white one at the rooms of the Christian Commission. There are 300 vol- unteer nurses in attendance. . The Sanitary Commission have 14 wagons bringing supplies from Belle Plain. The Christian Commission has less transportation facilities, but in devotion, in hard work, in patient effort, it is the compeer of its more bountifully supplied neighbor. The nurses are divided into details, some for day service, some for night work. Each State has its Relief Committee.
How patient the brave fellows are! Not a word of complaint, but thanks for the slightest favor. There was a lack of crutches. I saw an old soldier of the California regiment, who fought with the lamented Baker at Ball's Bluff. and who had been in more than 20 battles, hob- bling about with the arms of a settee nailed to strips of board. His reg- iment was on its way home, its three years of service having expired. It was reduced to a score or two of weather-beaten, battle-scarred vete- rans. The disabled comrade could hardly keep back the tears as he saw them pass down the street. "Few of us left. The bones of the boys are on every battle-field where the Army of the Potomac has fought," said he.
There was the sound of the pick and spade in the church-yard. a heaving-up of new earth .- a digging of trenches, not for defense against the enemy, but for the last resting-place of departed heroes. There they lie, each wrapped in his blanket, the last bivouac! For them there is no more war,-no charges into the thick, leaden rain-drops .- no more hurrahs, no more cheering for the dear old flag! They have fallen, but the victory is theirs,-theirs the roll of eternal honor. Side by side .- men from Massachusetts, from Pennsylvania, and from Wisconsin,-from all the states, resting in one common grave. Peace to them! blessings on the dear ones,-wives, mothers, children whom they have left behind.
Go into the hospitals :- armless, legless men, wounds of every descrip- tion. Men on the floor, on the hard seats of church pews, lying in one position all day, unable to move till the nurse, going the rounds, gives them aid. They must wait until their food comes. Some must be fed with a spoon, for they are as helpless as little children.
" O that we could get some straw for the brave fellows," said the Rev. Mr. Kimball. of the Christian Commission. He had wandered about town, searching for the article.
"There is none to be had. We shall have to send to Washington for it," said the surgeon in charge.
Straw! I remember two stacks, four miles out on the Spottsylvania road. I saw them last night as I galloped in from the front.
Armed with a requisition from the provost marshal to seize two stacks of straw, with wagons driven by freedmen, accompanied by four Chris- tian Commission delegates, away we went across the battle field of De- cember, fording Hazel Run, gaining the hights, and reaching the straw stacks owned by Rev. Mr. Owen. a bitter rebel.
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SCENES IN FREDERICKSBURG.
" By whose authority do you take my property?" "The provost marshal, sir." "Are you going to pay me for it ?" "You must see the provost marshal, sir. If you are a loyal man, and will take the oath of allegiance, doubtless you will get your pay when we have put down the rebellion." " It is pretty hard. My children are just ready to starve. I have nothing for them to eat, and you come to take my property with- out paying for it." "Yes sir, war is hard. You must remember, sir. :hat there are thousands of wounded men, -your rebel wounded as well as ours. If your children are on the point of starving, those men are on the point of dying. We must have the straw for them. What we don't take to-night we will get in the morning. Meanwhile, sir, if anybody attempts to take it, please say to them that it is for the hospital, and they can't have it."
It is evening. Thousands of soldiers just arrived from Washington have passed through the town to take their places in the front. The hills around are white with innumerable tents. A band is playing lively airs to cheer the wounded in the hospitals. I have been looking in at the sufferers. Two or three have gone to their long home. They will fred no more attention. A surgeon is at work upon a ghastly wound, taking up the arteries. An attendant is pouring cold water upon a >wollen limb. In the Episcopal church a nurse is bolstering up a wound- ed officer in the area behind the altar. Men are lying in the pews, on the seats, on boards on top of the pews.
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