Finally the train steamed into the Crescent City, and the officers went to seek their commanders and the sisters their patients, who were in a small town on the Mississippi River. Sister S—— divided her small force of nurses with such rare good judgment and executive ability that in twenty-four hours all of the sick and wounded men were resting comfortably. Suddenly came the order to depart and the Union troops all left the town, taking with them such of the convalescent patients as were able to bear the strain of travel. Twelve hours later a portion of the Confederate army entered the town, bringing several hundred of their sick and wounded. Sister S——, thinking that the call to duty in this instance was no less imperative than it had been in the case of the Union men the day before, started for the hospital, where the wounded Confederates had been carried.
One of the Union surgeons who had remained behind with his wounded men, placed a detaining hand upon her arm.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“To look after these men,” she replied.
“That is impossible,” he said. “You are in the service of the United States Government, and you are are not permitted to serve under the enemy. We have no objection to your nursing the wounded Confederates, but it must be under the auspices of our generals. The Union forces will probably regain possession of this town before nightfall, and then you can wait upon both sides alike.”
“But I insist,” and the eyes of the usually mild-mannered Sister sparkled as she stamped her foot in an emphatic manner. “I know nothing of technical military rules, but I insist upon my right to nurse these poor men.”
“I regret very much being placed in such a position,” said the surgeon gently, “but I am here representing the Government.”
“And I,” responded the Sister, “am here representing something greater than the Government.”
“What is that?” he asked in an incredulous tone.
“Humanity!” was the quiet reply.