EARLY on the morning of the 5th of July, the roadways being opened, I drove into Vicksburg. On every side the evidences of the severe struggle were visible. The concentrated fire of shot and shell had riddled nearly every building.
The solid shot had done much less damage than the shells, which, after striking, usually exploded. The solid cannon-balls cut clean round holes in the solid brick walls, with less damage to the walls in most cases than could have been done by a mason’s chisel. But the murderous shot and shell had come from every direction, and scattered the household goods and the inmates, killing many citizens and soldiers, and wounding many more. The whole city was an immense hospital.
And it is but kindly and fair to say, just here, that no city was ever more heroically defended; and that the gallant force inside of Vicksburg did not yield until starvation stared them in the face. There was nothing to eat in the city. The soldiers had been on short rations for a long time; the citizens were without food. Cattle, horses, mules, dogs, cats, rats, and mice had been devoured. The sick and wounded in the hospitals had been sustained on mule soup for a long while, and the supply of mules was about exhausted. There was no living creature in the shape of dogs and cats and rats to be seen in the streets or about the houses—all had been eaten for food.
The United States government issued rations to the starving people at once. I visited the hospitals immediately. I had large supplies of hospital stores, which were sent to me by Mr. Yeateman of St. Louis, President of the Western Sanitary Commission, who was a Southern gentleman, and who, though loyal to the Stars and Stripes, yet felt deep sympathy for the Southerners in their terrible sufferings; and also from Louisville and elsewhere, for I, too, was linked by ties of blood to the people of the South, and the history of Kentucky was interlinked with the history of my ancestors.
These immense supplies were sent me, in anticipation of the surrender, for the Confederate Hospital of Vicksburg. Some of the hospitals were in a most wretched condition; the men being without beds or pillows, or any other comforts for the sick. This was especially true of what were called the “field hospitals;” the hospitals immediately in the rear of the fighting force, into which the wounded were carried before being transported to the permanent hospitals.
In these hospitals I found men lying on the floor with their knapsacks under their heads, sweltering in their heavy army clothing. We found afterwards that their clothing was full of vermin. One poor man who looked very ill, and seemed to be suffering much, lay on the floor of one of the first hospitals I visited. I stopped to speak with him, coming close beside him. A Confederate surgeon sprang forward, and, taking me by the arm, said, “Please, lady, don’t go so near, you are in danger of getting vermin on you.” I had the satisfaction within the next twenty-four hours of seeing that hospital thoroughly cleansed, and every soldier lying clean and comfortable in a cot-bed between clean sheets, and his head resting on a soft white pillow; while a bonfire just in the rear of the building was consuming all the old clothing and former contents of the hospital. The Confederate surgeons were retained in the hospitals where the Union army found them, and many of them were faithful, gentlemanly men. I remember very kindly the medical director, or chief surgeon, of Pemberton’s army, although I have forgotten his name. He seemed very anxious to improve the condition of the hospitals, and was very grateful for help and supplies. The wounded were lying on the floor because there were no beds for them; they were starving—dying for lack of proper nourishment because there was little or no food for them, and so the hospitals were necessarily in a wretched state.
The hospitals in the centre of the city were in better condition. There were many incidents connected with my visits to these hospitals which I should be glad to record, but space will not allow.