S. Emma E. Edmonds

LEAVE OF ABSENCE—VISIT TO THE WILLIAMSBURG HOSPITALS—EFFECTIVE PREACHING—YORKTOWN REVISITED—LONGINGS—WHITE HOUSE LANDING—TIRED OF IDLENESS—PREPARATIONS TO RETURN TO DUTY—STUART’S CAVALRY RAID—A TRAIN FIRED INTO—FAIR OAKS GROVE—THE STRENGTH OF THE ENEMY—TRYING TIMES ON THE PENINSULA—THE ENDURANCE OF OUR SOLDIERS—LABORS OF MR. ALVORD.

While preparations were going on for the great battle in front of Richmond, I obtained leave of absence for a week, and recruited my shattered health, lame side and arm. Mr. and Mrs. B. were both gone home on furlough, and Nellie was at the Williamsburg Hospital. I thought I should like to visit the different hospitals, while I was thus riding round from place to place in search of something of interest. I visited Williamsburg Hospitals, both Union and rebel, and found many things amusing and interesting.

Nellie was delighted to see me, and told me much of her experience since the battle of Williamsburg. Her hand was still in a sling, which reminded me of my first shot at a rebel female. She was a most faithful nurse, and had endeared herself to all the boys by her kindness and patience toward them. She introduced me to several of her favorites, calling each by some pet name, to which they seemed to answer as a matter of course. I spent a day and a night there, and attended a meeting in the evening, which was held by a minister from the Christian Commission for the benefit of the wounded soldiers. Oh, what a sermon was that! The tender mercies of the Father, the love of the Son of God, were described; the wailings of the lost and the raptures of the redeemed were portrayed in the most powerful and touching manner. I have never heard the sinner invited to the cross in more persuasive strains than flowed from his lips.

His countenance was pleasing, his manners courteous, and his deportment unassuming. He did not preach one of those high-toned, intellectual discourses which we so often hear, and which almost invariably fail to reach the heart. But he preached Christ with such winning simplicity, such forgetfulness of self, and with such an eager yearning after souls, that even the most depraved were melted to tears. How soul-refreshing is this simple mode of preaching! I seem to see him standing before me now, with uplifted hands, glowing cheeks and streaming eyes—and though I have forgotten much of the discourse, yet I can distinctly remember the impression which it made upon me then. It was good, humbling, purifying. He was evidently not a highly educated man, yet he proclaimed the unsearchable riches of Christ in such a way as to make the proudest eloquence and the most profound philosophy, seem in comparison, “like sounding brass or tinkling cymbal.”

Often, when hearing a certain class of ministers preach, I am reminded of the saying of a good Baptist clergyman with regard to A. and B., two ministers of his own denomination: “When I hear Brother A. preach, I am in love with the man; but when I hear Brother B. preach, I am in love with Jesus.” This is the kind of preaching we want—that which makes us fall in love with Jesus, instead of the preacher. Oh, that there were more of Christ, and less of self, preached.

After leaving Williamsburg, I kept on down the Peninsula until I came to Yorktown. After visiting the hospitals there, I then went to the old camp where I had spent so many weeks. There were the dear old familiar places, but all that gave them interest were gone now. The old saw-mill, too, was gone, and all that remained was a heap of ruins, to tell where it once stood. But there was a spot undisturbed, away in the corner of the peach orchard, under an isolated pear tree, a heaped up mound, underneath which rested the noble form of Lieutenant V. It was sweet to me to visit this spot once more. I knew that in all probability it would be the last time; at least for a long period, perhaps forever.

When this frail body shall be done with earth,
And this heart shall be free from care;
When my spirit enters that other world,
Oh, say, shall I know thee there?
When the last hours of life are closing around
And death’s summons cometh to me;
Will God send an angel messenger down?
Shall I know the bright spirit as thee?
Rest weary heart, rest patient and wait,
Till thy happiness cometh to thee;
Thou’lt meet and thou’lt know when thou gainest that shore
Which opes to eternity.

From Yorktown I went to the White House Landing, where everything looked neat, orderly, peaceful and happy, as a quiet little country village. The grounds were laid out in broad streets and squares, which were swept clean as a floor, and there were long rows of snow-white tents, with their neatly printed cotton sign-boards, “to guide the traveler on his way” to the different head-quarters, provost marshal, hospital, sutlers, blacksmith, etc.

After spending a day there, and beginning to feel tired of idleness, I made up my mind to return to camp again. So going to Colonel Ingalls, I procured transportation for myself and horse, and stepping aboard of a provision train destined for Fair Oaks Station, I anticipated a pleasant ride; but, as usual, was blessed with quite a little adventure before I reached my destination. The train started, and, after steaming over the road for some time at its usual rate, had reached the vicinity of Tunstall’s Station, when we heard the down train whistle, and immediately after a sharp volley of musketry was fired in the same direction. The engineer switched off the track, and awaited the other train. It came thundering on as if the engineer was possessed by the sauve qui peut spirit, and, as it passed, the wildest confusion was visible on board, and the groans of the wounded could be heard above the screaming of the engine. On it went, like a streak of lightning, signaling for our train to follow.

There was no time to be lost; our train was immediately in hot pursuit of the other, and both were soon at the White House. Among those I saw taken from the cars wounded, was the spy whom I had met in the rebel camp in front of Yorktown, and heard haranguing his fellow countryman upon the important service he had rendered the Confederate Government, and confessing himself to be the cause of Lieutenant’s V’s death.

Everything was thrown into wild confusion by the arrival of the trains and the news of the attack. The troops at the White House were immediately called out under arms to protect the depot. All this excitement had been produced by a detachment of Stuart’s cavalry, consisting of about fifteen hundred men, and which resulted in the slight disaster to the train; the burning of two schooners laden with forage, and fourteen Government wagons; the destruction of some sutler’s stores; the killing of several of the guard and teamsters; some damage done to Tunstall’s Station; and the tearing up of a portion of the railroad. There was but little damage done to the train, considering that there were three hundred passengers. Some military officers of high rank were on board, who would have been a rich prize for the rebels if they had succeeded in capturing the train; but it had eluded their grasp by the admirable conduct and presence of mind of the engineer, who crowded on all possible steam, and escaped with his freight of human life with only a loss of fourteen in killed and wounded.

As soon as the wounded were taken care of I visited the provost marshal, and made known the fact that there was among the wounded a rebel spy who required immediate attention. He sent a guard with me, who searched his person and found satisfactory proof that my statement was correct. He was only slightly wounded, and by the time the railroad was repaired he was able to bear the fatigue of a journey to headquarters, and I returned to camp.

On the twenty-fifth of June the battle of Fair Oaks Grove was fought. Hooker’s command had been ordered to occupy a new and important position, when they were suddenly attacked while passing through a dense thicket and almost impassable swamp. The foe was gradually pushed back until he was obliged to seek safety behind his rifle-pits. About noon General McClellan, who had remained at headquarters to communicate with the left wing, rode upon the field and, to the joy of his soldiers, ordered them again to advance. The order was cheerfully obeyed, and after renewed desperate fighting, at sunset the day was won by the Federal arms.

At this time it was not necessary for me to use any stratagem in order to visit the rebel encampment, for all that was necessary to be known of the rebel force and movements had been already ascertained. Consequently I was quietly awaiting further developments, and while waiting was trying to make myself generally useful in the hospitals. A singular case came under my notice there: that of a man being stunned by the near approach of a cannon-ball. It did not come in contact with even his clothing, and yet he was knocked down senseless, and for several days he could neither hear nor speak.

I think the most trying time that the Army of the Potomac ever had on the Peninsula was in front of Richmond, just before the seven days’ battle—that is to say, if anything could be worse than the seven day’s battle itself. A heavy and almost incessant firing was kept up day and night, along the entire left wing, and the men were kept in those rifle pits, (to say in water to the knees is a very moderate estimate), day after day, until they looked like fit subjects for the hospital or lunatic asylum, and those troops in camp who were not supposed to be on duty, but were kept in reserve, were often called out ten times in one night. The firing would become so alarmingly hot that it was supposed a general engagement was at hand; but on going out to the front, perhaps it would cease for a moment, then they would be ordered back to camp again. In that manner I have known the entire force to be kept in motion almost all night, and sleep for any one was a thing out of the question.

It soon became evident that there was some movement on foot which was not understood by the great mass of the army, and I have no doubt it was a good thing that the troops did not even imagine that a retreat was already being planned by their commander. The men endured all these hardships most uncomplainingly; yes, cheerfully; and every day was supposed to be the last ere they would walk the streets of Richmond triumphantly, and thus reap the fruits of their summer’s campaign.

The constant fire kept up along the entire line, and the frequent charges made upon rifle-pits, rapidly increased the numbers in the hospital, and kept the surgeons and nurses busy night and day, and then they could not attend to all who required assistance. Just at this particular juncture I remember the timely aid afforded by the members of the Christian Commission and Tract Society. They brought relief not only in one sense, but in many. Spiritual food for the hungry, dying soldier—consolation for the worn out and discouraged—delicacies for the sick and feeble—warm-gushing heart sympathy for the suffering, and actual assistance with their own hands in cases of amputations, and the removal of the sick from one place to another. Rev. Mr. Alvord gives a very modest account of the services which he rendered, when he says: “I went to the hospitals, where I worked hour after hour with the surgeons. Men were brought in with all sorts of wounds. Surgeons were scarce and were engaged in amputations, so you know I could attend to minor matters. Where the bullet had gone through body or limb, I could dress it perhaps as well as any one; also, all sorts of flesh wounds. I cannot tell you of the variety of operations I performed. The wounds had been stiffening since the day before, not having been dressed. I enjoyed the work, as in every case such relief was given. Then I could carry water to the thirsty, and speak words of comfort to the dying; for, as you may suppose, there were many in this state.”

Again he says: “Just now, by my side, lies a Philadelphia zouave, a fine boy to whom I have been ministering. I gave him some hot tea, with the charming crackers Mr. Broughton sent; he is now sitting up, looking more cheerful. I mention this in detail, that you may have a specimen of the work which occupies one every moment through the day and night, who is able or willing to work in this department. On the other side of me, as I write here on my knees, lies a colored boy, haggard and sick, to whom I have given medicine and similar food. His dark face is full of gratitude.”

Many an hour I have worked and watched in hospitals by the side of Mr. Alvord, and marked his cheerful christian spirit and warm sympathies for the sufferers. And often, on a march, I have gone to him, and asked if he would let some weary sick soldier ride in his carriage, who had fallen out by the way—and my request was never refused, although to do so he would sometimes have to walk through the mud himself, his horse being frequently heavily loaded. I have also distributed publications for him, and have stood by the cot of many a dying soldier where he has ministered consolation to the departing spirit. He is one of those who will have many stars in his crown of rejoicing when eternity unfolds the results of his faithful labors.