The courage that faces death on the battlefield, or calmly awaits it in the hospital, is not the courage of race or color.
Clara Barton.
Two of the bravest men I ever saw lay wounded, almost side by side, one white and the other black. Clara Barton.
The patient suffering of the black soldier is fully equal to that of the Anglo-Saxon. Clara Barton.
EZ EF WE WUZ WHITE FOLKS
At Galveston one day, when Miss Barton was busy dictating letters her companion, Mrs. Fannie B. Ward, came in and told her that there were two negro soldiers of the Civil War waiting to see her. Miss Barton said, “Let them come in.” The two old negroes came in with their hats in their hands and bowing at every step.
One of them asked, “Miss Barton, do you know us?” She replied, “No, I don’t remember you.”
“We knows you, Miss Barton,” was the reply, “We wuz in de battle er Fo’t Wagner an’ got wounded dyar, an’ you foun’ us an’ tied up our wounds an’ tuk cyar er us same ez ef we wuz white folks.”
Proud of their wounds, one of the negroes rolled up his sleeve and showed a great scar on his arm, saying, “I wuz in de cha’ge, Miss Barton, an’ a officer slashed me wid a swo’d.” The other pulled up his trousers and displayed a very deep scar on the calf of his leg and said, “En’ I got wounded in de leg wid a bullet.”
Miss Barton’s smile of appreciation and her cordial handshake sent them away with happy memories.