Three years in field hospitals of the Army of the Potomac

by Anna M. Holstein

Our long residence in the hospital gave us the opportunity of understanding fully all the prominent points of interest in the battle-field, which was constantly before us: if we but raised our eyes, they rested upon “Culp’s Hill,” “Cemetery” or “Seminary Hill,” and in the distance “Round Top,” made forever memorable by the heroic conduct of the brave men of the fifth corps, who, by order of Gen. Meade to Gen. Sykes, directed it “to be held at all hazards.”

Among the few valued friends who regularly met in our tent, when the fatiguing duties of the day were over, was frequently discussed the propriety of placing upon some part of the field a flag, to manifest our sympathy and esteem for those who “here fought and won this great battle for our liberties.” Some intimation of the plan proposed reached our friends at home, and directly we heard that a flag would be sent by persons residing in our immediate vicinity. To two of the ladies most active in procuring it, was given the pleasure of conveying it to Gettysburg. Many of the wounded knew when it arrived, and the arrangements being made to receive it; at their request, the flag (twenty-five feet in length) was carried through the streets of the hospital, then taken to “Round Top.” All who could leave the hospital—officers, ladies, and soldiers—joined the procession. A large concourse of persons manifested, by their presence, the pleasure they felt in the event. Appropriate and eloquent addresses were delivered by David Wills, Esq., of Gettysburg; J. T. Seymour, of New York; and Surgeon H. C. May, of the 145th New York Vols.

Dr. May gave a graphic account of the battle as he saw it, describing in glowing words the many historic localities now before us; and, explaining the purpose which had brought there so large an assemblage, continued: “The occasion of our meeting together on this rock-bound, rock-capped hill, to day, needs no explanation from me. The most rapturous bursts of eloquence, from the most gifted orator of the land, could not intensify your interest in the spot on which now we tread. When the golden rays of the rising sun lit up this elevation on the morning of July 1st, 1863, 'Round Top’ was scarcely known beyond the few honest husbandmen who dwell beneath its shadow. When that same sun was setting behind the western horizon on the evening of July 4th, and again illumined the foliage now immediately over our heads, the name of 'Round Top’ was on the tongues of millions all over the land. It has been in contemplation, for some weeks, by a few friends at the General Hospital, to erect a national flag on the summit of 'Round Top,’ constituting, as it does, one of the flanks of the Federal position, and its elevation being so singularly located that the flag could be seen for miles in every direction. The desire was simply expressed, a short time since, to a circle of patriotic ladies of a township of Montgomery County,—the immediate vicinity of 'Valley Forge,’ of precious Revolutionary memory,—that they would contribute a flag for this purpose. Soon the word came back that the work was in progress; later still, that it was successfully accomplished. Willing hands from the hospital have prepared and erected this staff: and it is our delight and pride, to-day, to behold the beautiful folds of our 'Starry Banner’ floating in the breeze from this hallowed spot, mid the booming of artillery and the sweet strains of music—a slight token of affection to the memory of our gallant comrades who 'sleep the sleep that knows no waking,’ on every side of us.”

The ceremonies ended, we came back to the sad routine of hospital life and suffering; brightened, however, with the pleasant remembrance of the events in which we had been participating.

The work of reducing the number of patients was now commenced in earnest. Sixty were at one time sent in the cars, who had each but one arm a piece; the next train took the same number with one leg a piece, and one little cavalry boy who had lost both at the knee.

These sights have always been to me the saddest, most painful of any. Amid scenes like these we were constantly occupied until the breaking up of the hospital, and the dedication of the National Cemetery. That had to us a deeper interest than to many of the lookers-on: many of the quiet sleepers, by whom we were surrounded, we had known, and waited upon until care was no longer needed.

During the ceremonies of that day, we were so fortunate as to have a place directly in front and within a few feet of our now martyred President, and there heard distinctly every word he uttered of that memorable speech, which will last while the Republic endures.

There was now, November, 1863, nothing more to be done at Gettysburg, and we gladly turned our faces homeward. Remained there but a few days, until—at the urgent request of the Sanitary Commission—I consented to call together the various “Soldiers’ Aid Societies” throughout the State, and in those meetings to tell the ladies what I knew personally of the wants of the hospitals,—the best way of preparing delicacies for their use, the clothing most required, and so on.

It was impossible to be an idler while this gigantic struggle was in progress. The current of swiftly passing events had, all unconsciously, drifted me to this point; I yielded to its force, and commenced this additional labor as part of the work which came unsought. There was not the least recognition of self in any part of it; had there been, it would have been impossible to have gone on with it. While talking, the disagreeableness of the situation was all forgotten, and thinking only of far-off hospital scenes,—the lonely, dreary couch of the wounded or sick man, uncheered by loving care of wife or child,—the weary tramp of the sentinel, or the wretched life of men in trenches, I could do nothing less than tell to other women the story that I knew so well,—of want, of suffering unparalleled, of bravery and endurance unequaled,—and then remind them how much was in their power to soothe and comfort those on battle-field, or hospital, by the preparation of articles for their use.

Of our army in health, I knew comparatively nothing. Men sick, wounded, and dying were not likely to manifest any but the good traits in their character; and from this knowledge the estimate was made. I have been for weeks the only lady in a camp of seven hundred men, and have never been treated with more deference, respect, and kindness than when thus situated.