HOW MOTHER BICKERDYKE CUT RED TAPE.
THE battle of Corinth had raged from early morning till late in the afternoon, and then General Price was checked and forced to retreat. The struggle had been a bloody one, and the ground was covered with the wounded and the dead.
The Confederates made a desperate struggle to capture Fort Robbinette. General Rogers, or “Texas Rogers” as he was usually called, led the charge against the fort. Splendidly mounted, with a flag in one hand and a pistol in the other, he rode up to the very mouth of the cannon, all the while beckoning his men onward. Reaching the ramparts, he planted the Confederate flag there, and the next moment fell dead. But his troops surged up after him, although the cannon of the fort mowed down great swaths of marching men, as with set faces and bowed heads they followed their leader.
The scenes that followed were indescribable. The human avalanche surged up into the fort, and men, hand to hand, contended for the mastery.
The Confederate flag waved only for a moment. Then it was torn away, and the men who had climbed up over the ramparts were hurled back. But still fresh relays came on. When there was not time to reload their guns, the invaders used them as clubs, and the fragments of many a shattered musket were left upon the field. Texas Rogers’s horse, which had gone back riderless, came dashing up again when the next charge was made, as though guided by human hands, and once more turned and went back. After the bloody conflict ended, it was found that forty-two men lay dead in a heap where “Texas Rogers” planted his flag and died.
Hungry and utterly exhausted as were the men, who, without food or rest, had fought all day, their first duty was to their wounded comrades. Every available building, and every church but one, was taken for hospital purposes; and long rows of tents were put up on the grounds of the Ladies’ College. But there was a lack of supplies. There were no cots or pillows—only the bare ground.
Among the heroic workers there, was Mother Bickerdyke, who could always find supplies if they were within reach. She took some wagons and a squad of men, and went down to the quartermaster’s storehouse. “Come on, boys,” she said; “we will see if we can find anything to make the wounded comfortable.”
The quartermaster was there to receive her, and to say, “We have no hospital supplies; they are all given out.”
“Then, I’ll have to take what I can get. Boys, roll out some of those bales of hay and cotton! They will make better beds than the ground.”
“You must bring me an order, madam.”
“I have no time to hunt up officers to get orders.”
“But I am responsible for these supplies, and cannot let them go without proper orders.”
The wagons were soon loaded up, and the bales of hay and cotton were soon at the hospital tents. An axe cut the hoops, and the hay went flying into the tents in long even rows with the help of ready hands. An armful of cotton made a good pillow. All night long the work went on. Some with lanterns were searching among the dead for the wounded and bringing them in; others dressing the wounds. No one was idle. The utmost of strength and energy must be put forth at such a time.
But the quartermaster must make his accounts all right, and of course had to enter complaint against Mother Bickerdyke. She was summoned to meet the charge, which she did when she found time to go.
“Mrs. Bickerdyke, you are charged with taking quartermaster’s stores without proper orders and over his protest.”
“Who ordered the tents put up on the college grounds?”
“I did.”
“What were they put up for?”
“To shelter the wounded men, of course.”
“Did you expect these wounded men to lie on the ground?”
“You should have obtained orders.”
“I had no time to go for orders. Why didn’t you order in the hay and the cotton?”
“I did not think of it.”
“Well, I did, and used all I needed; and now all you have to do is to draw an order for them and give it to the quartermaster.”
She bade the officers good-day and returned to her work, and no one thought of arresting her. Indeed, she had the best of the argument.
Mrs. Mary A. Bickerdyke, or “Mother Bickerdyke” as the boys used to call her, was one of the most energetic and faithful workers of the war. Her fidelity to duty, and her untiring efforts for the comfort of the sick and wounded, have endeared her to her co-laborers and to the old soldiers whom she blessed. She now, 1894, lives in quiet and comfort with her son, Professor Bickerdyke, Russell, Kan.