Next morning the wounded were put on board box cars, and sent to City Point, arriving there late in the afternoon. Here I thought my journey was at an end, but I was mistaken once more.
The next morning the surgeon made his rounds at eight o’clock, and all the badly wounded were given a card, to show that they must be sent on board the steamer which was to start for Washington in an hour. I was pleased that I received no card, as it showed that I was not considered a bad case. At quarter to nine, the assistant surgeon came in.
“What sergeant, not on board yet?” Said he.
“No, I’m not going,” I answered.
“We’ll see about that!” he replied, and out he went. In a moment back he came with two men, who bundled me onto a stretcher and carried me on board the steamer just as she was to leave the dock.
We arrived in Washington on the morning of April 2nd and I was carried to Armory Square hospital, where I was bathed and put to bed. The lady nurse, a Miss Dixon of Connecticut, came with an orange and a glass of lemonade, but I could only shake my head in refusal, for I was in too much pain to speak. My foot had at last come to its feeling, and for the next twenty-four hours I suffered the most excruciating agony. I was given morphine, but it seemed to have no effect for a while.
The surgeons thought my foot would have to be taken off, but I begged them not to cripple me for life and they postponed the operation for a day. At their next visit, they decided the foot could be saved, and I was very thankful. I suffered a great deal after that, but my foot greatly improved, until finally on the 19th of April, I was allowed to get up, and managed to hobble on crutches down to ward I, to visit sergeant Buker. Was up a few hours, then went to bed very tired and did not get up next day.
After that I was up every day, and soon was able to get round very well on crutches. I saw many sad sights during my stay in this hospital. Many a poor fellow gave up the weary struggle for life and died; one or two a day in my ward alone for some time. We were treated very kindly, and received good care and nursing.
Many citizens visited the hospitals, and showed much sympathy for the sick and wounded veterans. There was an old colored woman who came daily with a big basket of pies, cakes, biscuits, and other good things, and her coming was always hailed with delight, for to those who were able to eat what she brought she gave liberally, and to those who could not, by order of the surgeons receive them, she gave kind cheering words promising to bring them something they could eat the next time she came.
I do not remember her name, only that we all called her “Aunty,” and that her mistress allowed her to use all the time and material she desired to make these dainties for the sick men, who daily watched for her coming, and enjoyed the good things she brought. I can testify to the fact that she was a good cook, and I shall ever remember her with gratitude. The lady nurses who cared so tenderly for the sick and wounded soldiers, will ever be kindly remembered by me.