CHAPTER XVI.
My Varied Experiences in the Hospital--The Doctor Seems Sure of My Death--I Suggest the Postponement of My Funeral--I Get Very Sick of Gruel--I Go Back to my Regiment.
Let's see, last week I wound up in the hospital. When Jim, my oldcomrade, and the rebel angel, left me, I to all intents and purposes. Isupposed I was going to sleep, but after I got well enough to know whatwas going on, I found that for about ten days I had been out of myhead. It was not much of a head to get out of, but however small andinsignificant a man's head is, he had rather have it with him, keepinggood time, than to have it wandering around out of his reach. When I"come to," as the saying is, it only seemed as though I had been asleepover night, but I dreamed more than any able-bodied man could have donein one night. I was what they call un-. conscious, but I did a greatdeal of work during that period of unconsciousness. One thing I did,which I was proud of, was to wind up the war. I arranged it so that allof the bullets that were fired on each side, were made of India-rubber,like those little toy balloons, and war was just fun. The boys on bothsides would fire at each other and watch the rubber balloons hit themark, and explode, and nobody was hurt, and everybody laughed. There wasno more blood. Everything was rubber and wind. There was no one killed,no legs shot off, and the men on each side; when not fighting withthe harmless missiles, were gathered together, blue and gray, havinga regular picnic, and every evening there was a dance, the rebelsfurnishing the girls. In my delirium I could see that my rebel angel wasdancing a good deal with the boys, and frequently with my comrade, Jim,and I was pretty jealous. I made up my mind that I wouldn't speak toeither of them again. I would watch my balloon battles with a good dealof interest, and think how much better and safer it was to fight thatway. Every day, when the battle was over, and the two sides would gettogether for fun, I noticed when the bugle sounded for battle again,that on each side the boys were terribly mixed, there being about asmany blue-coated Yankees among the gray rebels as there were rebelsamong the Yankees, and after awhile it seemed as though all were dressedalike, in a sort of "blue-gray," and then they disappeared, and Irecovered my senses. Frequently, during my delerium and unconsciousness,I would feel my mouth pulled open, and hear a spoon chink against myteeth, and I would taste something bad going down my neck, and then myhead would buzz as though a swarm of bees had taken up their abode wheremy brain used to be. Sometimes I would hear the clanking of a saber anda pair of Mexican spurs, and feel a great big hand on my head, and Iknew that was Jim, but I couldn't move a muscle, or say a word. "I guesshe's dead, ain't he doc?" I would hear in Jim's voice, and the doc wouldsay there was a little life left, but not enough, to swear by. Then thedoc would say, "You better come in about 10:30 tomorrow, as we burythem all at that hour, and I guess he'll croak by that time." I tried tospeak and tell them that I was alive, and that I was going to get well,but it, wasn't any use. I was tongue-tied. Again I would hear the sweetrustle of a dress, and feel a warm hand on my head, and I knew that therebel angel had rode her mule to town to see me. Then I would tryhard to tell her that I was going to write a letter to the governor ofWisconsin, and ask him to look out particularly for her brother, who wasa rebel prisoner at Madison, and take care of him if he was sick, butI couldn't say a word, and after smoothing my hair a little while, shewould give my cheek three or four pats, just as a mother pats her child,and she would go away.
One morning, a little after daylight, I woke up and looked around theward of the hospital. My eyes were weak, and I was hungry as a bear. Ihad to try two or three times before I could raise my hand to my head,and when I felt of my head it seemed awfully small. I could feel mycheek bones stick out so that you could hang your hat on them. My cheekswere sunken, and my fingers were like pipe-stems. I wondered how a mancould change so in one night. I saw two or three fellows over at theother end of the room, and I thought I would get up and go over thereand have some fun with them. I wanted to know where my horse was, andwhere I was. I tried to raise up and couldn't get any further than on myelbow. From that position I looked around to see what was going on, andtried to attract the attention of some attendant. Finally, I saw fourfellows bringing a stretcher along towards my cot. They had evidentlybeen told by the doctor that I would be dead in the morning, and havingconfidence in the word of the professional man, had come to take me tothe dead house, before the other sick man was awake. As they came up tothe foot of my cot and sat the stretcher down, I thought I would playa joke on them. I pulled the sheet over my face, and laid still. One ofthe men said, "Two of us can lift it, as it is thinner than a lathe." Tobe considered dead, when I was alive, was bad enough, but to be called"it" was too much. I felt one of the men take hold of my feet, and thenI threw the sheet off my face and in a hoarse voice I said, "Say, Mr.Body-snotcher, you can postpone the funeral and bring me a porter-housesteak and some fried potatoes." Well, nobody ever saw a couple of menfall over themselves and turn pale, as those fellows did. Before Ihad given my order for breakfast, the two men had fallen back overthe stretcher and the two others were backing on as though a ghost hadappeared. But finally they came toward me and I convinced them that Iwas not dead. They seemed hurt to know that I was still alive, and oneof them went off after the doctor, to enter a complaint, I supposed.The doctor soon came and he was the only one that seemed pleased at myrecovery. He ordered some sort of gruel for me, but wouldn't let me havemeat and things. I took the gruel under protest but it did strengthenme. I told the doctor I wanted him to send for my horse, because Iwanted to go out with the boys, but he said he guessed I wouldn't go outwith the boys very soon. He said I might sit up in bed a little while,and when I did so I found that I did not have my clothes on, but wasclothed in a hospital night-gown, which was also used for a shroud forburial when a fellow died. He said Jim and the girl would be in about 10o clock, as he had sent for them, and some of my comrades. I told himif I was going to entertain company, and give a reception, I wanted mypants on, as I was sure no gentleman could give a reception successfullywithout pants. The doctor seemed sort of glad to see me taking aninterest in human affairs again, and so he let me put my pants andjacket on. I got a butcher to shave me, and when ten o clock came Ilooked quite presentable for a skeleton. I was sitting up in bed, with alittle round zinc frame looking-glass, noting the changes in my personalappearance, when a door opened and Jim entered, dressed up in his best,with the rebel angel on his arm, and followed by six boys from theregiment. They came in as solemn as any party I ever saw. The angellooked as sad as I ever saw anybody, and I thought she had probablyheard that her brother was dead. It did not occur to me that theyhad come to attend my funeral. They stood there by the door, in thathelpless manner that people always stand around at a funeral, waitingfor the master of ceremonies to tell them that they can now pass in theother room and view the remains. I finally caught Jim looking my way,and I waved a handkerchief at him. He gave me one look, and jumped overtwo cots and came up to me with tears in his eyes, and a package in hishand, and said, "Pard, you ain't dead worth a cent," and then he huggedme, and added, "but there ain't enough left of you for a full sizefuneral." Then he unrolled the package he had in his hand, and droppedon the bed four silver-plated coffin handles. By that time the girl,and the six boys had seen me, and they came over, and we had a regularvisit. They were all surprised to find me alive, as they had beennotified that I was on my last legs, and would be buried in the morning,and the captain had detailed the six boys to act as pall-bearers andfire a salute over the grave, while Jim and the girl were to act asmourners.
"Well, it saves ammunition," said Jim. "But how be I going to get thesecoffin handles off my hands. There is no dependence to be placed ondoctors, anyway. When that doctor appointed this funeral, we thought heknew his business, and I told the angel, say I, 'My pard ain't goingto be buried without any style, in one of those pine boxes that ain'tplaned, and has got slivers on.' So I hired the hospital coffin-makerto sand-paper the inside and outside of a box, and black it withshoe-blacki
ng, and I went to a store down town and bought these handles.Of course, pard, I am glad you pulled through, and all that, but I wantto say to you, if you had croaked in the night, and been ready to burythis A. m., you would have had a more stylish outfit than anybody,except officers, usually get in this army, and the angel and I wouldhave been a pair of mourners that would have slung grief so your folksto home would have felt proud of you."
The angel was tickled to see me alive, and suggested to Jim and theboys, that it was easy to talk a fellow to death after he had been sosick, and told them to go back to camp, and she would stay with me allday. So the boys shook hands with me, and Jim had an attendant to rollmy cot up to a window, so I could see my horse when they rode away. Theboys got on their horses and Jim led my horse, and I could see that mypet had been fixed up for the occasion. He had the saddle on, and it wasdraped with black, a pair of boots were fastened in the stirrups, andmy carbine was in the socket. The idea was to have my horse, with emptyboot and saddle tied behind the wagon that took me to the cemetery wheresoldiers wind up their career. It was not a cheerful thing to look at,and to think of, but it did me good to see the old horse, and the boysride away in good health, and happy at my escape, and it encouraged meto make every effort to get well, so I could ride with the gang. Therebel angel re-mained with me till almost night, and superintended myeating. No person who has never had a fever, can appreciate the appetiteof a person when the fever "turns." I wanted everything that was evereaten, and roast beef or turkey was constantly in my mind. As anythingof that kind would have made use for Jim's coffin-handles, I had to putup with soups and gruels. The doctor thought that this thin gruel wasgood enough, but it didn't seem to hit the spot, and so the girl askedthe doctor if he thought nice gumbo soup and a weak milk punch wouldn'tbe pretty good for me. He said it would, but nobody in the hospitalcould make gumbo soup, or milk punch. She said she could, and she toldme not to eat a thing until she came back, and she would bring me a dishfit for the gods. She said she knew an old colored woman in town, whocooked for a lady friend of hers, who had some gumbo, and the lady hada little brandy that was seventy years old, but she said the lady was arebel, and I must overlook that. I told her I didn't care, as I had gotconsiderably mashed on all the rebels I had met personally. She went outwith a smile that would have knocked a stronger man than I was silly,and I turned over and took a nap, the first real sleep I had had in aweek. I woke up finally smelling something that was not gruel. O, I hadgot so sick of gruel. The angel handed me a glass of milk punch,and told me to drink a swallow and a half. I have drank a great manybeverages in my lifetime, but I never swallowed anything that was asgood as the milk punch that rebel girl made for me. It seemed to goclear to my toes, and I felt strong. Then she gave me a small soup plateand told me to taste of the gumbo. I had never tasted gumbo soup before,but I had no difficulty in mastering it. No description can do gumbosoup justice, or explain to a person who has never tasted it the richodor, and palatable taste. The little that I ate seemed to make a man ofme again, instead of the weak invalid. Since then I have been loyalto southern gumbo soup, and have always eaten it wherever it could beobtained, and I never put a spoonful of it to my lips without thinkingof the rebel girl in the hospital, who prepared that dish for me. IfI ever become a glutton, it will be on gumbo soup, and if I am ever adrunkard, it will be a milk-punch drunkard, and the soup and the punchmust be prepared in the South.
Well, my experience after that, in the hospital, was about the same as ahundred thousand other boys in blue, only few of the boys had such care,and such food. The girl kept me supplied with gumbo soup and milk punchuntil I could eat heartier food, and in a couple of days I got so Icould walk around the hospital. At home I had never been much of a handto be around with the sick, but experience had been a good teacher, andI found that going around among the boys, and talking cheerfully didthem good and me too. I found men from my own regiment, that I did notknow had been sick. The custom was to make just as little show aboutsending sick men to the hospital, as possible, hence they were oftenpacked off in the night, and the first their comrades would know oftheir illness would be a detail to bury them, or a boy would suddenlyappear in his company, looking pale and sick, having been dischargedfrom the hospital. If the men had known how many of their comrades weresent to the hospital, it would have demoralized the well ones. For tendays I visited around among the sick men, telling a funny story toa group here and and cheering them up, and writing letters home forfellows that were too weak to write. I learned to lie a little bit inwriting letters for the boys. One young fellow who had his leg takenoff, wanted me to write to his intended, and tell her all about it, howthe leg was taken off, and how he was sick and discouraged, and wouldalways be a cripple and a burden on his friends, etc. I wrote the letterentirely different from the way he told me. I spoke of his being woundedin the leg but that the care he received had made him all right, andthat he would probably soon have a discharge, and be home, and make themall happy. I thought to myself that if she loved him as a girl ought to,that a leg or two short wouldn't make any difference to her, and therewas no use of harrowing up her feelings in advance, and that he couldbuy a cork leg before he got home, and may be she would never find itout. I might have been wrong, but when he got an answer from that letterhe was the happiest fellow I ever saw in this world, and he arrangedat my suggestion, to stop over in New York and get a cork leg before hewent home. I have never learned whether the girl ever found out that hehad a cork leg, but if she did, and blames anybody, she can lay it tome. Lots of the boys that wrote letters for wanted to detail all oftheir calamities to their mothers and sisters and sweet-hearts, but Iworded the letters in a funny sort of way, so that the friends at homewould not be worried, and the answers the boys got would please themvery much. The hardest work I had was a couple of days writing lettersfor a doctor, to relatives of boys who had died, detailing the sickness,death and burial, and notifying friends that they could obtain thepersonal effects of the deceased, clothing, money, pipes, knives, etc.,by sending express charges. It always seemed to me that if I had beenrunning the government I would have paid the express charges on theclothing of the boys who had died, if I didn't lay up a cent. Finally Igot well enough to go back to my regiment, and one day I showed up atmy company, and the first man I met saluted me and said, "Hello,Lieutenant." I told him he did wrong to joke a sick man that way, andI went on to find Jim. He was in our tent, greasing his shoes, andhe looked up with a queer expression on his face and said, "Hello,Lieutenant."
"Look a here." I said, as I grasped his greasy hand, "what do you fellowsmean by calling me names, I have never done anything to deserve to bemade a fool of. Pard, what ails you anyway?"
"Didn't they tell you," said Jim, as he scraped the mud on his othershoe with a stick. "The colonel has sent your name to the governor ofWisconsin to be commissioned as second Lieutenant of the company. Allthe boys are tickled to death, and they are going to whoop it up for youwhen your commission comes. But this pup tent will not be good enoughfor you then, and old Jim will have to pick up another pard. You won'thave to cook your bacon on a stick when you get your commsssion, and youcan drink out of a leather covered flask instead of a flannel coveredcanteen. But by the great horn spoons I shall love you if you get to bea Jigadier Brindle," and the old pard looked as though he wanted to crylike a baby.
"Jim," I said, "I think the fellows are giving us taffy, and that thereis nothing in this Lieutenant business. But if there is, you will be mypard till this cruel war is over, and don't you forget it," and I wentalong the company street towards the colonel's tent, leaning on a cane,and all the boys congratulated me, and I felt like a fool.
"Lieutenant, I am glad to see you back," said the Colonel, as I enteredhis tent, and he showed it in his face. "What is the foolishness,colonel? I asked. The boys are all guying me. Can't I stay a private?"
How Private George W. Peck Put Down the Rebellion Page 16