We pressed our collection of leaves, and, after a short visit to headquarters and the ladies’ tent where our stores were kept, we returned to “Maine” and laid away our weary bones, nearly shattered after a day’s shaking over the corduroy roads. We were soon lulled to sleep by the 6th Army Corps singing “The Girl I Left Behind Me” and the humming of the singing mice which infected our tent.
CHAPTER XIII
DOROTHEA DIX
About this time I met Dorothea Dix, that masterful woman by whose persevering energies insane women were provided with suitable hospitals, instead of being confined with criminals, as was usual in the old days. She devoted her time, thought and influence to compelling the opening of decent asylums for these often refined, unfortunate women patients. Her good work, begun in this country, reached England and other countries, and was the beginning of that civilizing influence that no longer considered these unfortunates as subjects of divine punishment.
Miss Dix, a dignified lady, was then organizing a trained nurse corps. There were no trained nurses, or “Red Cross” at that time, but later we followed the Swiss movement. Miss Dix asked me to join her corps, but I declined, preferring to do independent work. I was glad, however, to turn over to her nurse corps, my three assistant nurses, knowing that with her they would receive pay for their services, which the Masonic Mission had falsely promised to us. Several young girls had been sent, with directions not to take money or clothing, as everything would be furnished. I had insisted on taking both. Some girls were stranded at Fortress Monroe, two or three of whom I succeeded in sending home safely. Three others, stranded and penniless, fell under the protection (?) of young officers. I then resigned my secretaryship of the Masonic Mission, with a threat to expose and have them arrested for false pretenses, but they disappeared in a night, and were never more heard of.
On the return of Miss Hancock to the second corps’ kitchen, some red tape became tangled up, and, as I was invited to assist in the New Jersey and Pennsylvania Agency with Doctor Hettie K. Painter, I gladly accepted, and worked for the men of those states, though, each of the Agencies desiring my help, we all worked in the same spirit for all the “Boys.”
A most interesting Pennsylvania case was that of a young captain who had received a thigh fracture while at the front at Petersburg. The leg had to be amputated so high that the artery could not be taken up, and it was impossible to close it in the usual manner. Consequently men were detailed to hold or press their thumbs ceaselessly upon the open artery, each man serving four hours at a time, although another was always ready to take his place in case the strain of holding so long in a cramped position should cause him to relax or faint. This was continued for weeks till the artery actually healed. I believe only one other such case occurred during the Civil war. While hastily passing through his ward one day, Lieutenant Stanwood called my attention to this officer.
Contrary to my intention of caring only for young boys, I felt it my duty to do what I could for this sufferer, whom I found in a very critical state, needing the utmost care to bring him through. Being a blonde, he was transparently white from loss of blood, and so weak that he scarcely tried to live. He had no interest in anything and no appetite. There was no time to be lost here, so I said—“Captain, you do not eat, I hear, and I want to make you something that you would like.”
“I have no appetite,” he replied feebly.
“Can you think of something you could relish?”