“Suppose I do approve these papers, it will do no good. The general in command will stop them and censure me.”
“But you will have done all you could and have obeyed the higher law.”
In the meantime this truly noble man had firmly crossed out his own words and signature, and rewritten under it words of approval, and in a quick, husky tone, said, “Take it and don’t you come here again today.” As the woman raised her eyes to thank him, she saw a scowl on his brow, but a smile on his lips, and a tear in his eye.
“The general in command,” said she in relating the story, “never went behind the medical director’s signature. The boy started for home that night with his mother, full of hope.”
Not long after this an incident occurred showing how easily man yields to the higher law when once he makes humanity his standpoint. An erring boy of nineteen, who had deserted from a Minnesota regiment, changed his name, enlisted in the gunboat service from which he again deserted, again changed his name, and enlisted in a Wisconsin regiment, a little unsteady to be sure, but still a soldier. He was wounded in a battle, honorably discharged from the service, and paid off. On Saturday night he reached St. Louis and found his way to one of her lowest dens, was drugged and robbed of everything he possessed. On Monday he was found tossing from side to side stricken by disease. His surroundings were terrible, and he was lying on an old, filthy mattress which had been thrown into the open hall by the frightened inmates. He was screaming with pain and was at times delirious. As soon, however, as he heard the soothing tones of a human voice, and recognized the hand of kindness on his burning brow, he cried, “Mother! Oh, Mother, forgive me, God forgive me! I have sinned. What shall I do! What shall I do!” Conscience and disease were doing their work.
Softly speaking to him words of comfort and hope, our friend released herself from his grasp, promising to return in half an hour to take him away. This was easier said than done. This soldier was now a citizen, and could not, therefore, be admitted into a military hospital. His disease was of such a nature that in all probability he must die—but his widowed mother, far away, must she know that her darling soldier had died in such a place? God forbid! An order must be had to place him in a military hospital.
The woman goes to her old friend, the medical director, and tells her story in as few words as possible, saying, “General, write an order quick to the surgeon in charge of the Fifth Street hospital, that the boy may be received. I also want an ambulance, mattress, and bedding, and some men to help me move him.”
“Yes, yes, but listen, I have no right, I can’t do it.”
“I know—I know, but please do hurry—I promised to be back in half an hour, and the boy will expect me.”
The general, calling a boy and imitating her voice, said, “Hurry, hurry, boy! Get the best ambulance we have, a good mattress and bedding, and some men and go with Madame and do whatever she bids you to do. Here is the order, what else do you want? Henceforth we do what you wish and no questions asked. It is the easiest way and I guess the only way to get along with you.” The mother mourned her son’s death, but not his disgrace. In after months, this worthy officer by daring to take responsibility performed many acts which will gladden his dying hours.