Further to the Rear:

Dangers of Recovery in Pre-Disinfectant Times

Of corse it was terribly tiresome to have to lie in one position day and night for two or three weeks.  I had to lie on the flat of my back the first two weeks.  The only change I could make  was to sit up a few minutes as often as I could.  And when my back began to get sore they gave me an old worn-out linen table cloth which the ladies of the Christian Commission had given.  I tore off a piece which placed next to the skin was far pleasanter than the sweaty cotton shirt and sheet, and prevented the bed sore on my back, thus perhaps saving my life.  After two weeks I could turn and lie on my side a short time.  About the middle of June we were loaded into a hospital train and shipped to Nashville, Tennessee.  The stretchers upon which we rode were hung upon rubber bands, a simple yet effective way of giving us a smooth, pleasant ride.  At Nashville, we were placed in a large hospital tent, about twenty cots to a tent.  All bad cases were placed in the same tent together, so we had several deaths, but not as bad as we had in Resaca.  To try to describe these cases would make a long story.  One bright young man with a thigh amputation was a hemorrhagic (bleeder).  The femoral artery had sloughed off and been retied a little further up until the last tie was in his body and it could not be tied any further.  Then when it sloughed off again and commenced to bleed, the nurse placed his thumb upon it and held it while the young man dictated his last letter home to his parents, then the thumb was reluctantly removed and the man went to sleep.

Another whose father had come to see him wanted to live and wouldn’t believe he must die, but while his father was on his knees beside him he passed away.  I don’t know how many died in this tent.  There was some erysipelas, gangrene and some camp diarrhea and contagion which would be sure death if I caught it.  At this critical time, God, or good fortune gave me a good friend who no doubt saved my life.  Old Man Jones was a Tennessee Union man.  The rebels drove him from his home and he volunteered for the Union, being rather old for field service they put him in the hospital to help care for the wounded.  He could neither read nor write but his wife could write a little in the old grammar.  He tried several men to read and answer her letters for him but none of them would do it right.  We had captured bushels of old rebel letters and I had read hundreds of them, not knowing I was learning a valuable lesson.

Then when Old Man Jones called on me to read and answer his letters I did it so well and easy that he jumped at the conclusion that I was the smartest and best man on the job, and was ready and willing to do all he could for me.  I explained to him the dangers of contagion, and he went up town and got me a wash dish and towels, etc., so I didn’t have to use anything that had been used by others, and so I managed to live through the hot summer with men dying every day all around me.  I believe the careful assistance of this good old man saved my life and I have never been able to pay him for his kindness.

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