"You can't bring any officers nor anybody else to this house. I'm all alone. I hope you have more honor than to come and disturb defenseless, unprotected women."
"Have you no husband?"
"Yes, thank God, he's a colonel in the confederate service."
"Well, if your husband was at home, where he ought to be, you would not be a defenseless woman."
The woman refused to unbolt the door, in spite of all persuasion, but while she railed at the "detestable Yankees," a soldier climbed in at a window in the rear, and unbolted the door. Her splendid rooms and fine mattresses furnished lodgings for twenty wounded officers. Day after day, the gloom of death hung over the town. Hundreds of our brave fellows were dying. Some of the finest officers of our army were daily yielding to the destroyer.
Among the severe losses to the Sixth corps were, Colonel Barney, of the Sixth Vermont, who had been shot through the head. He died on the 10th. He was one of the noblest of the sons of Vermont, a pattern of a brave soldier and Christian gentleman, respected for his ability as a commander, and loved for his social virtues; he was lamented by the whole corps. Major Fryer, of the Forty-third New York, one of the most promising young officers in the corps, died on the 12th, from wounds through the left arm and lungs. Captain Walker and Adjutant Hesse, of the Seventh Maine, and Lieutenants Hooper and Vining, of the same regiment, all died within a few hours of each other. Lieutenants Follensbee and Cook, of the Thirty-seventh Massachusetts, and Captain Kirkbride, of the One Hundred and Second Pennsylvania, were also among those who died. Major Dudley, of the Fifth Vermont, after suffering untold agony for many days, finally yielded, and died in the embraces of his youthful wife, who had arrived in Fredericksburgh just in time to be present during his last hours. The major had gone into the fight sick with a fever, but his determined bravery forbade him to remain quiet. Receiving a severe wound while thus depressed by disease, he gradually sunk, until his brave spirit took its departure.
These were a few of the sad, sad scenes, which brought sorrow to our hearts day after day, of the hospitals at Fredericksburgh.
Physicians and nurses from civil life came to our assistance in large numbers. Some were earnest men, wholly devoted to the object of relieving the distress which they saw on every side. Others had come for selfish purposes.
Physicians who had never performed an important surgical operation came armed with amputating cases, and seemed to think that there was but one thing to be done, to operate as they said.
Distressed fathers and brothers wandered about the town, in search of information regarding some son or friend who had been wounded, or perhaps, as they feared, killed.