“A few days ago a prisoner in the hands of General Mitchell, named Cobb, a relative of Howell Cobb, died in the hospital at this place. A Federal officer visited the prison, as was his daily wont, and, learning the facts, asked the other prisoners if they would not like to attend the funeral. The reply was yes, but they could not hope to have such a boon accorded to them in view of their peculiar situation. The officer at once repaired to the quarters of General Mitchell, stated the case and received an order for their permission to accompany the remains of their comrade to their last resting place. He returned to the prison with the order, exacted a promise that they should not seek to escape, and put the party in charge of Father Tracey, the resident Catholic pastor at Huntsville.
“The procession wended its way to the cemetery, when the young ladies of the town strewed the coffin and the grave of the young soldier with the rarest flowers of the garden, and evinced in the most unmistakable manner their sympathy and their ardent love for the cause of the South. The scene was at once solemn, grand and affecting. There lay the earthly remains of the devoted soldier in the narrow house of clay, and there assembled hundreds of the fairest daughters of Huntsville to shed the parting tear over the corpse of the hero of their cause and garland the grave of the young rebel with the choicest products of their sunny bowers. There stood the minister of religion, chanting the office of his church for the repose of the soul of the departed, surrounded by the witching forms of angelic traitors who made the air fragrant with the odor of their treason, and comingling their anathemas of the Union with the prayers of the priest. The sermon over, the prisoners returned to their gloomy quarters, where they passed a series of resolutions thanking the officer for his kindness and General Mitchell for the courtesy he extended, and closing with the hope that the day might not be far distant when the defenders of the South and the defenders of the Union could shake hands and fight by each other’s side for a common cause.
“To-day the men and officers of the Fifteenth Kentucky followed to the same spot the remains of Bernard McGinnis, who died from a wound received at Winchester, and over whose grave the same Father Tracey performed similar services to those which he had done before for young Cobb. How beautiful it seemed to the beholder to look upon the same minister amid the tumult of war, contending passions and the fearful excerbations of the public mind, lift up his voice to the throne of the Most High and solicit the pledges of faith for the soul of the young Georgian, and the faithful Irishman, without a prejudice for one or a partiality for the other.”
CHAPTER VII.
SISTER ANTHONY AT SHILOH.
Terrible loss of life at the battle of Pittsburg Landing or Shiloh. Sister Anthony wins enduring laurels. Seven hundred wounded soldiers crowded on one boat. The deck of the vessel resembles a slaughter house. A Sister of Charity acts as assistant surgeon. Sisters refuse to abandon their patients. Sketch of the life of Sister Anthony.
SISTER ANTHONY.
The battle of Shiloh, Tenn, sometimes known as the battle of Pittsburg Landing, was one of the great combats of the war. Shiloh cost the Union army in killed, wounded and prisoners 14,000 men, while the Confederates lost 10,700 men, including General Albert Sidney Johnston, who fell in the first day’s fight. The battles were fought on the 6th and 7th of April, 1862. The morning of the 6th was clear and beautiful, with no indications of a storm; but the day’s terrific battle was followed by a night of drenching rain. The battle of the next day was also succeeded by a fearful storm, which in this case consisted of rain, hail and sleet. An eye-witness writing of this says: “And to add to the horrors of the scene, the elements of Heaven marshaled their forces—a fitting accompaniment to the tempest of human devastation and passion that was raging. A cold, drizzling rain commenced about nightfall and soon came harder and faster, then turned to pitiless, blinding hail. This storm raged with unrelenting violence for three hours. I passed long wagon trains filled with wounded and dying soldiers without even a blanket to shield them from the driving sleet and hail which fell in stones as large as partridge eggs until it lay on the ground two inches deep.”[6]
It was by the work that she did at and after this battle that Sister Anthony, a notable member of the Sisters of Charity, won enduring laurels. She left Cincinnati for Shiloh, accompanied by two other Sisters of Charity, Dr. Blackman, of Cincinnati; Mrs. Hatch and daughter, Miss McHugh, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy and some charitable ladies of the Queen City. This trip was made on Captain Ross’ boat, under the care of Dr. Blackman. Sister Anthony, whose mind is unimpaired and whose memory is excellent, thus tells of her experience at Shiloh:
“At Shiloh we ministered to the men on board what were popularly known as the floating hospitals. We were often obliged to move farther up the river, being unable to bear the terrific stench from the bodies of the dead on the battlefield. This was bad enough, but what we endured on the field of battle while gathering up the wounded is simply beyond description. At one time there were 700 of the poor soldiers crowded in one boat. Many were sent to our hospital in Cincinnati. Others were so far restored to health as to return to the scene of war. Many died good, holy deaths. Although everything seemed dark and gloomy, some amusing incidents occurred. Some days after the battle of Shiloh the young surgeons went off on a kind of lark, and Dr. Blackman took me as assistant in surgical operations, and I must acknowledge I was much pleased to be able to assist in alleviating the sufferings of these noble men.