Hastings,” she whispered, tilting her head toward the hoofbeats and voices of strangers growing louder. “Let go of me.”
He released her wrist then and rubbed his hand over his face. After a moment, she heard him mutter, “Uncalled for.” But it was impossible to tell if he was referring to himself or to her.
No one knows, who did not watch the thing from the beginning, how much opposition, how much ill-will, how much unfeeling want of thought, these women nurses endured. Hardly a surgeon whom I can think of, received or treated them with even common courtesy. Government had decided that women should be employed, and the army surgeons—unable, therefore, to close the hospitals against them—determined to make their lives so unbearable that they should be forced in self-defence to leave. It seemed a matter of cool calculation, just how much ill-mannered opposition would be requisite to break up the system.
Some of the bravest women I have ever known were among this first company of army nurses. They saw at once the position of affairs, the attitude assumed by the surgeons and the wall against which they were expected to break and scatter; and they set themselves to undermine the whole thing.
—G EORGEANNA W OOLSEY , written in 1864
Act Two
Friday, June
7
, 1861
Meridian Hill, Washington City
A log snapped in the fire, sending a shower of sparks under a twilight sky brushed with strokes of pink and gold. Caleb Lansing tugged at the collar of his scratchy blue wool uniform and lowered himself down onto a wooden crate to watch the orange flames dance. He sure didn’t need the heat, but at least it kept the flies away as a pot of coffee boiled.
Wiping his glistening forehead with the back of his hand, he looked through the haze of smoke at the rest of the camp, most of them sitting on the ground or on overturned barrels, unwrapping small bundles of hardtack from their haversacks. He pulled out his own, placed it on a flat rock, and rammed a Sharp rifle butt onto it, breaking it into pieces.
“Well, Doc, is it a teeth duller or a worm castle tonight?” A baby-faced private named Hodges dropped down to the ground and reached into his own haversack.
Caleb groaned. “Worm castle.” Maggots and weevils writhed through the pieces of hardtack and onto the stone.
“Downright insulting, that’s what it is, Doc. A man marches all day under the sun and what do we get for it? All I got to say is, it’s a good thing we ain’t fightin’ yet, or we’d all drop over in a dead faint like a heap of womenfolk. Uncle Sam says ‘Fight a war!’ but he sure ain’t givin’ us any help, is he now?”
Caleb chuckled in agreement. “Too hard to chew, too small for shoeing mules, and too big to use as bullets. Utter waste of space, wouldn’t you say, Hodges?”
“Darn right, Doc.” Hodges scooped up the worm castles, trotted about twenty yards and threw them in the trench.
“Throw that hardtack out of the trenches, private! Haven’t you been told that often enough?” Caleb overheard the brigade officer of the day say sharply to the young man.
“I thrown it out two or three times, sir, but it keeps crawling back!”
Caleb didn’t advocate insubordination to officers, but he couldn’t help laughing at Hodge’s very reasonable response. It was a trial to not have decent food when the soldiers were constantly burning up their energy.
It had been another long day of marching and drilling for all but those who had come to see him with complaints of nausea, diarrhea, dizziness, or fever. If he had been in a hospital or at home at his own clinic, he could have offered them lumps of ice or oranges to suck on, but here in camp, that was out of the question. They hadn’t seen fresh fruit in at least two weeks. The fruit sent by post from well-meaning mothers and wives was putrid by the time it arrived. So far, he did not feel very effective as a regimental surgeon.
Dinner suddenly
He released her wrist then and rubbed his hand over his face. After a moment, she heard him mutter, “Uncalled for.” But it was impossible to tell if he was referring to himself or to her.
No one knows, who did not watch the thing from the beginning, how much opposition, how much ill-will, how much unfeeling want of thought, these women nurses endured. Hardly a surgeon whom I can think of, received or treated them with even common courtesy. Government had decided that women should be employed, and the army surgeons—unable, therefore, to close the hospitals against them—determined to make their lives so unbearable that they should be forced in self-defence to leave. It seemed a matter of cool calculation, just how much ill-mannered opposition would be requisite to break up the system.
Some of the bravest women I have ever known were among this first company of army nurses. They saw at once the position of affairs, the attitude assumed by the surgeons and the wall against which they were expected to break and scatter; and they set themselves to undermine the whole thing.
—G EORGEANNA W OOLSEY , written in 1864
Act Two
Friday, June
7
, 1861
Meridian Hill, Washington City
A log snapped in the fire, sending a shower of sparks under a twilight sky brushed with strokes of pink and gold. Caleb Lansing tugged at the collar of his scratchy blue wool uniform and lowered himself down onto a wooden crate to watch the orange flames dance. He sure didn’t need the heat, but at least it kept the flies away as a pot of coffee boiled.
Wiping his glistening forehead with the back of his hand, he looked through the haze of smoke at the rest of the camp, most of them sitting on the ground or on overturned barrels, unwrapping small bundles of hardtack from their haversacks. He pulled out his own, placed it on a flat rock, and rammed a Sharp rifle butt onto it, breaking it into pieces.
“Well, Doc, is it a teeth duller or a worm castle tonight?” A baby-faced private named Hodges dropped down to the ground and reached into his own haversack.
Caleb groaned. “Worm castle.” Maggots and weevils writhed through the pieces of hardtack and onto the stone.
“Downright insulting, that’s what it is, Doc. A man marches all day under the sun and what do we get for it? All I got to say is, it’s a good thing we ain’t fightin’ yet, or we’d all drop over in a dead faint like a heap of womenfolk. Uncle Sam says ‘Fight a war!’ but he sure ain’t givin’ us any help, is he now?”
Caleb chuckled in agreement. “Too hard to chew, too small for shoeing mules, and too big to use as bullets. Utter waste of space, wouldn’t you say, Hodges?”
“Darn right, Doc.” Hodges scooped up the worm castles, trotted about twenty yards and threw them in the trench.
“Throw that hardtack out of the trenches, private! Haven’t you been told that often enough?” Caleb overheard the brigade officer of the day say sharply to the young man.
“I thrown it out two or three times, sir, but it keeps crawling back!”
Caleb didn’t advocate insubordination to officers, but he couldn’t help laughing at Hodge’s very reasonable response. It was a trial to not have decent food when the soldiers were constantly burning up their energy.
It had been another long day of marching and drilling for all but those who had come to see him with complaints of nausea, diarrhea, dizziness, or fever. If he had been in a hospital or at home at his own clinic, he could have offered them lumps of ice or oranges to suck on, but here in camp, that was out of the question. They hadn’t seen fresh fruit in at least two weeks. The fruit sent by post from well-meaning mothers and wives was putrid by the time it arrived. So far, he did not feel very effective as a regimental surgeon.
Dinner suddenly
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