Voices of Gettysburg

It is now one month since I began this Journal, and little did I think when I sat down to while away the time, that I would have to record such terrible scenes as I have done. Had any one suggested any such sights as within the bound of possibility, I would have thought it madness. No small disturbance was occasioned by the removal of our wounded to the hospital. We had but short notice of the intention, and though we pleaded hard to have them remain, it was of no use. SO many have been removed by death and recovery, that there was room; and the sugeon having general care over all, ordered the patients from private houses to the General Hospital. A weight of care, which we took upon us for duty’s sake, and which we had learned to like and would have gladly borne, until relieved by the complete recovery of our men, has been lifted off of our shoulders, and again we have our house to ourselves.

This day has passed much as yesterday and the day before. The town is as full as ever of strangers, and the old story of the inability of a village of twenty-five hundred inhabitants, overrun and eaten out by two large armies, to accommodate from ten to twelve thousand visitors, is repeated almost hourly. Twenty are with us to-night, filling every bed and covering the floors….What our soldiers are in the army, I cannot say, but when they are wounded, they all seem perfect gentlemen, so gentle, patient, and kind, and so thankful for any kindness shown them. I have seen many of our brave sufferers, and I have yet to meet the first who showed ill breeding. This, too, is the opinion of all whom I know, who have taken care of any, and the invitation and remark is common, “Come and see our men; they are the nicest men in the army;” and the reply generally follows, “They cannot be better than ours.”

To-day the lady I sent for came to see her husband. I never pitied any one as I did her when I told her he was dead. I hope I may never again be called up to witness such a heartrending scene. The only comfort she had was in recovering the body, and in tears she conveyed it to the resting-place of her family. I had some satisfaction from the fact that I had marked the grave, without which she might not have recovered it….This is Sunday, but since the battle we have had no Sunday. The churches have all been converted into hospitals, and the cars come and go as on other days, and the usual bustle and confusion reign in the streets, and there is nothing but the almanac to remind us of the day of rest. One of my patients grows worse and worse, and is gradually sinking to his long home.

This day has been spent in caring for OUR men. We procured clean clothes from the Sanitary Commission, and having fixed them up, they both look and feel better, though their wounds are very painful. OUr town, too, begins to look more settled, and more like its former self. The atmosphere is loaded with the horrid smell of dacaying horses and the remains of slaughtered animals, and, it is said, from the bodies of men imperfectly buried. I fear we shall be visited with pestilence, for every breath we draw is made ugly by the stench.

This morning I again visited the Seminary, and was rejoiced to see the improvement that had been made in the arrangements for the patients. Nearly all have been provided with beds and clean clothing, and a more comfortable look pervades the whole building. I miss many faces that I had learned to know, and among them the man whose wife I had written to. A lady stayed with him until he died, and cut off a lock of his hair, which she gave me for his wife. At 5 o’clock our men were brought to our home, and I prepared them as nice a supper as I could, and they appeared quite cheerful, notwithstanding their dirty persons, having been lying in a field hospital three miles from town, without a change of clothing since before the battle, and with very imperfect attendance.

Nearly every house is a hospital, besides the churches and warehouses and there are many field hospitals scattered over the country near the scene of the battle. A man called to-day and requested me to take into our house three wounded men from one of the field hospitals. I agreed to take them, for I can attend to them and not be compelled to leave my family so long every day as I have done. I am quite anxious to learn the condition of that man at the Seminary whose wife I sent for.

I aided a lady to dress wounds, until soup was made, and then I went to distribute it. I found that I had only seen the lighter cases, and worse horrors met my eyes on descending to the basement of the building. Men, wounded in three and four places, not able to help themselves in the least bit, lay almost swimming in water. I hunted up the lady whom I had been helping, and told her to come and see how they were situated. When we came down she reverently exclaimed, “My God! they must be gotten out of this or they will drown.” I gladly, in answer to her request, consented to assist her. She called some nurses to help, and getting some stretchers the work was begun. There were somewhere near one hundred to be removed to the fourth story of the building….I fed one poor fellow who had had both legs and one arm taken off, and, though he is very weak and surely cannot live, he seems in right good spirits. Some weeks since I would have fainted had I seen as much blood as I have to-day, but I am proof now, only caring to relieve suffering. I now begin to feel fatigued, but I hope rest may restore me.

This morning we started out to see the wounded, with as much food as we could scrape together, and some old quilts and pillows. It was very little, but yet better than nothing….I assisted in feeding some of the severely wounded, when I perceived that they were suffering on account of not having their wounds dressed. I did not know whether I could render any assistance in that way, but I thought I would try. I procured a basin and water, and went to a room where there were seven or eight, some shot in the arms, others in the legs, and one in his back, and another in the shoulder. I asked if any one would like to have his wounds dressed? Some one replied, “There is a man on the floor who cannot help himself, you would better see to him.” Stooping over him, I asked for his wound, and he pointed to his leg. Such a horrible sight I had never seen and hope never to see again. His leg was all covered with worms….when the doctor told me he could not live, I asked him for his home, and if he had a family. He said I should send for his wife, and when I came home I wrote to her, as he told me, but I fear she may never see him alive, as he is very weak, and sinking rapidly. I did not return to the hospital today, being very much fatigued and worn out, and having done what I never expected to do, or thought I could. I am becoming more used to sights of misery. We do not know until tried what we are capable of.

What a beautiful morning! It seems as though Nature was smiling on thousands suffering. One might think, if they saw only the sky, and earth, and trees, that every one must be happy; but just look around and behold the misery made in so short time by man….Can we endure the spectacle of hundreds of men wounded in every conceivable manner, some in the head and limbs, here an arm off and there a leg, and just inside a poor fellow with both legs shot away? It is dreadful to behold, and to add to the misery, no food has been served for several days. The little we have will not go far with so many….It is heart-sickening to think of these noble fellows sacrificing everything for us, and saving us, and it out of our power to render any assistance of consequence. I turned away and cried. We returned to town to gather up more food if possible, and to get soft material to place under their wounded limbs, to help make them more comfortabele.

This morning, about 6 o’clock, I heard a great noise in the street, and going to the door I saw a Rebel officer on horseback hallooing to some soldiers on foot, to “Hurry up, the Yankees have possession of the town and all would be caputured.” I looked up street and saw our men in the public square, and it was a joyful sight, for I knew we were now safe….the Rebels are retreating, and…our army has been victorious. I was anxious to help care for the wounded, but the day is ended and all is quiet, and for the first time in a week I shall go to bed, feeling safe.

To-day the battle opened with fierce cannonading before 4 o’clock A.M. Shortly after the battle began we were told to leave this end of the town for likely it would be shelled. My husband declared he would not go while one brick remained upon another, and, as usual, we betook ourselves to the cellar, where we remained until 10 o’clock, when the firing ceased. We could not get breakfast on account of our fears and the great danger. During the cessation we managed to get a cold bite. Again, the battle began with unearthly fury. Nearly all the afternoon it seemed as if the heavens and earth were crashing together. The time that we sat in the cellar seemed long, listening to the terrific sound of the strike; more terrible never greeted human ears. We knew that with every explosion, and the scream of each shell, human beings were hurried, through excruciating pain, into another world, and that many more were torn, and mangled, and lying in torment worse than death, and no one able to extend relief….Who is victorious, or with whom the advantage rests, no one can tell. It would ease the horror if we knew our arms were successful. Some think the Rebels were defeated, as there has been no boasting as on yesterday, and they look uneasy and by no means exultant. I hope they are correct, but I fear we are too hopeful. We shall see to-morrow. It will be the 4th of July, and the Rebels have promised us a glorious day. If it only ends the battle and drives them off it will be glorious, and I will rejoice.

The cannonading commenced about 10 o’clock, and we went to the cellar and remained a little while until it ceased. When the noise subsided, we came to the light again, and tried to get something to eat. My husband went to the garden and picked a mess of beans, though stray firing was going on all the time, and bullets from sharpshooters or others whizzed about his head in a way I would not have liked. He persevered until he picked all, for he declared that the Rebels should not have one….we had the first quiet meal since the contest began….The quiet did not last long. About 4 o’clock P.M., the storm burst again with terrific violence. It seemed as though heaven and earth were boing rolled together. For better security we went to the house of a neighbor and occupied the cellar, by far the most comfortable part of the house. Whilst there a shell struck the house, but mercifully did not burst, but remained embedded in the wall, one half protruding. About 6 o’clock the cannonading lessened, and we, thinking the fighting for the day was over, came out. Then the noise of the musketry was loud and constant, and made us feel quite as bad as the cannonading, though it seemed to me less terrible. Very soon the artillery joined in the din, and soon became as awful as ever, and we again retreated to our friend’s underground apartment, and remained until the battle ceased, about 10 o’clock at night….We known not what the morrow will bring forth, and cannot even tell the issue of to-day.

I got up early this morning to get my baking done before any fighting would begin. I had just put my bread in the pans when the cannons began to fire, and true enough the battle had begun in earnest, about two miles out on the Chambersburg pike. What to do or where to go, I did not know. People were running here and there, screaming that the town would be shelled. No one knew where to go or what to do….About 10 o’clock the shells began to “fly around quite thick,” and I took my child and went to the house of a friend up town. As we passed up the street we met wounded men coming in from the field. When we saw them, we, for the first time, began to realize our fearful situation, and anxiously to ask, Will our army be whipped?….No one can imagine in what extreme fright we were when our men began to retreat. A citizen galloped up to the door in which we were sitting and called out, “For God’s sake go in the house! The Rebels are in the other end of town, and all will be killed!” We quickly ran in, and the cannonading coming nearer and becoming heavier, we went to the cellar, and in a few minutes the town was full of the filthy Rebels. They did not get farther, for our soldiers having possession of the hills just beyond, shelled them so that they were glad to give over the pursuit, and the fighting for the day was ended. We remained in the cellar until the firing ceased, and then feared to come out, not knowing what the Rebels might do. How changed the town looked when we came to the light. The street was strewn over with clothes, blankets, knapsacks, cartridge-boxes, dead horses, and the bodies of a few men….As I write all is quiet, but O! how I dread to-morrow.

My husband came home last night at 1 o’clock, having walked from Harrisburg, thirty-six miles, since 9 o’clock of yesterday morning. His return has put me in good spirits. I wonder that he escaped the Rebels, who are scouring the country between here and there. Fatigue is all the ill that befell him….It begins to look as though we will have a battle soon and we are in great fear. I see by the papers that General Hooker has been relieved, and the change of commanders I fear may give great advantage to the enemy, and our army may be repulsed.

Quiet has prevailed all day. Our cavalry came up with the Rebels at Hanover, fourteen miles from here, and had quite a spirited fight, driving them through the town. Their infantry had reached York and had taken possession, as they did here, and demanded goods, stores, and money; threatening, if the demand was not complied with, to burn the town. Dunce-like, the people paid them $28,000, which they pocketed, and passed on to Wrightsville.

About 10 o’clock a large body of our cavalry began to pass through town, and we were all busy feeding them as they passed along. It seemed to me that the long line would never get through. I hope they may catch the Rebels and give them a sound thrashing. Some say we may look for a battle here in a few days, and others say it will be fought near Harrisburg. There is no telling where it will be.

I passed the most uncomfortable night of my life. My husband had gone in the cars to Hanover Junction, not thinking the Rebels were so near, or that there was much danger of their coming to town, and I was left entirely alone, surrounded by thousands of ugly, rude, hostile soldiers, from whom violence might be expected….this morning when I got up I found that the Rebels had departed, having, on the night of the 27th, burned the railroad bridge over Rock Creek, just outside the town, and the cars that had brought up the militia, and had torn up the track and done other mischief.

Our militia passed through town this morning about 10 o’clock, and encamped about three miles to the west. Before they had unpacked their baggage, a scout came in with a report, which proved true, that the enemy were quite near. Our men then had to retreat and get off the best way they could. About two hundred were captured. The town was quiet after our men retreated, until about 2 o’clock P.M., when a report spread that the Rebels were only two miles from town….In about half an hour the entrance of Jenkins’ Rebel Cavalry began, and they came with such horrid yells that it was enough to frighten us all to death. They came in on three roads, and we soon were surrounded by them. We all stood in the doors whilst the cavalry passed, but when the infantry came we closed them, for fear they would run into our houses and carry off everything we had, and went up stairs and looked out of the windows….They were a miserable-looking set. They wore all kinds of hats and caps, even to heavy fur ones, and some were barefooted. The Rebel band were playing Southern tunes in the Diamond. I cannot tell how bad I felt to hear them, and to see the traitors’ flag floating overhead. My humiliation was complete when I saw our men marching behind them surrounded by a guard.

To-day passed much as yesterday did. Every one is asking, Where is our army, that they let the enemy scour the country and do as they please? It is reported that Lee’s whole army is this side of the river, and marching on Harrisburg; also, that a large force is coming on here, to destroy the railroad between there and Baltimore.

As I expected, the Rebels have, several times, been within two or three miles, but they have not yet reached here….The town is a little queter than on yesterday. We are getting used to excitement, and many think that the enemy, having been so long in the vicinity without visitng us, will not favor us with their presence. They have carried off many horses. Some, who had taken their stock away, returned, supposing the Rebels had left the neighborhood, and lost their teams.

This has been the most quiet day since the excitement began. I expect news to-morrow, for it has been too quiet to last long.

The report now is that a large force is in the mountains about eighteen miles away, and a call is made for a party of men to go out and cut down trees to obstruct the passages of the mountains. About fifty, among them my husband, started. I was very uneasy lest they might be captured, but, they had not gone half way, when the discovery was made that it was too late; that the Rebels were on this side of the mountains, and coming this way.

Great excitement prevails, and there is no reliable intelligence from abroad. One report declares that the enemy are at Waynesboro, twenty miles off; another that Harrisburg is the point; and so we are in great suspense.

The report of to-day is that the Rebels are at Chambersburg and are advancing on here, and refugees begin to come in by scores. Some say the Rebels number from twenty to thirty thousand, others that Lee’s whole army is advancing this way. All day we have been much excited.

Today passed without much excitement, though rumors of all kinds were going.

Our town had a great fright last night between 12 and 1 o’clock. I had retired, and was soundly asleep, when my child cried for a drink of water. When I got up to get it, I heard so great a noise in the street that I went to the window, and the first thing I saw was a large fire, seemingly not far off, and the people were hallooing, “The Rebels are coming, and burning as they go.” Many left town, but, having waited for the fire to go down a little, I returned to bed and slept till morning.

To-day we heard that the Rebels were crossing the river in heavy force, and advancing on to this State. No alarm was felt until Governor Curtin sent a telegram, directing the people to move their stores as quickly as possible. This made us begin to realize the fact that we were in some danger from the enemy, and some persons, thinking the Rebels were near, became very much frightened, though the report was a mistake.