SAVING THE LIFE OF YOUNG PIKE,
Brother of Mrs. Sue Pike Sanders, Past National President, W. R. C.
THE atmosphere was thick with dust, and stifling with the sulphurous smoke that came in clouds from the near battle-field, as I drove around Vicksburg. The air was as hot as a furnace, under the pitiless rays of a June sun, and vibrated with the roar and thunder of heavy artillery and bursting shells, till every nerve was on the rack.
It was unusually late, and I was weary and heartsick.
But as I was on my way to my quarters, I noticed a soldier lying in a field not far from the main travelled road. There was something in the appearance of the man that attracted my attention, and I stopped my carriage and went to him.
At first I thought he was dead; but a closer examination convinced me that he was alive.
The shades of night were gathering around us, and the point where he lay was one of unusual danger.
I hurried back to my carriage, and brought water and restoratives, and began an earnest effort to resuscitate him.
It was not long till he opened his great brown eyes in a questioning way.
“Poor boy!” I said in pitying tones; but he closed his eyes as though he had not fully understood.
After a little he looked up into my face, and said in a whisper,—
“They left me here to die.”
“Oh, but you will be taken care of now, and you’ll get well. Don’t think about dying—just think how soon you will be well again.”
He was a young soldier, not much if any over sixteen or eighteen years old. He was lying there, with all his heavy army clothing on, in a most pitiable condition.
There was a hospital not very far away; and leaving George, my driver, to minister to him, I went up to the hospital and called for the surgeon in charge.
“There is a soldier lying down here near the road who is nearly dead. Will you not have him brought up, and see what you can do for him?” I said.
“Why, isn’t he dead yet?” exclaimed an attendant.
I then learned that the regiment to which the young soldier belonged had been ordered out to the Big Black River, and that all the sick in their regimental hospital had been brought with them to that point—there unloaded and reported to the hospital authorities. The attendants had come down and taken all but this one man, and had left him there to die alone. I was righteously indignant, and I denounced the whole proceeding as inhuman and scandalous.
The surgeon and attendants were alarmed.
“Such carelessness on the part of the surgeon, and brutality on the part of men charged with the care of the sick and wounded, were disgraceful!” I declared.
It was not many minutes till the surgeon and attendants with a stretcher were at his side.
Everything that could possibly be done for any one was done for him.
The surgeons had hard work to save him, however.
If I had passed him by unnoticed, they all agreed that he would have been dead by the next morning.
Day after day as I drove about the lines I ministered to him till he was out of danger.
Years passed before I had the privilege of seeing him again. Then he was a great stalwart man, and bore the title of Hon. E. M. Pike, member of the Senate of Illinois.
He is now living at Chenoa, Ill., has a lovely wife and two children, a son and daughter full-grown. He has a large manufacturing establishment there, and is beloved and honored by all who know him.
He has given good proof that he was well worth saving.