Nurse and Spy in the Union Army

Coming up to where the chaplain stood, she laid down the baskets and addressed him thus:

“Massa, I’se a slave – my husban’ and chil’en is slaves. Will you ’cept dese tings for de poor men?”

Then taking up a roll of stockings, she said: “Dem I knit wid my own hands for de soldiers, when all sleep, in my cabin. We know’d dis war was comin’ long ’fore you Yankees did. We see it ’proaching, an’ we began to prepare for it.”

Then taking packages of tea, cans of fruit, pears and peaches, lint, linen for bandages, and pocket-handkerchiefs, she said: “Massa, permit me to give you dese for de poor men. I have not stole ’em. My own hands have earned ’em over de washtub. I wish to do something for de Union soldiers, Lord bless ’em!”

“As she talked,” says the chaplain, “she grew more earnest, and looking around on the mutilated men the tears rolled down her black face, and fell on her hands, as she lifted the treasures out of the baskets and handed them to me.”

Our sick men looked with wonder and admiration on the old colored woman, and soon a hundred voices cried out “God bless you, aunty! You are the only white woman we have seen since we came to Winchester.”

Some people assert that colored people have no souls. Which, think you, acted most as if lacking soul – the black or the white woman in the hospital at Winchester?

The devotion of the negro woman, as manifested in the hospital, is a perfect sample of the devotion of the contrabands, male and female, to the Union cause.

And now that the time has come when the colored men are permitted, by the laws of the land, to assume the privileges of rational beings, and to go forth as American soldiers to meet their cruel oppressors on the bloody field, there is evidently as great, if not greater, enthusiasm and true patriotism manifested by them, as by any troops in the United States army.

And still further – it has been proved satisfactorily within the last twelve months that the colored troops endure fatigue as cheerfully and fight as well (and get less pay) as any of the white troops. Thank God, this is one great point gained for the poor down-trodden descendants of Africa.

I imagine I see them, with their great shiny eyes and grinning faces, as they march to the field, singing —

Oh! we’re de bully soldiers of de “First of Arkansas,”We are fightin’ for de Union, we are fightin’ for de law,We can hit a rebel furder dan a white man eber saw,As we go marchin’ on:Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc. See dar! above de center, where de flag is wavin’ bright;We are goin’ out of slavery; we are bound for freedom’s light;We mean to show Jeff. Davis how de Africans can fight!Glory, glory, hallelujah,Glory, glory, hallelujah,Glory, glory, hallelujah,As we go marching on.

And now, what shall I say in conclusion? The war still continues – our soldiers are daily falling in battle, and thousands are languishing in hospitals or in Southern prisons; and I for months past have not given even a cup of cold water to the sufferers. I am ashamed to acknowledge it! But when I look around and see the streets crowded with strong, healthy young men who ought to be foremost in the ranks of their country’s defenders, I am not only ashamed, but I am indignant!

To prove to my friends that I am not ambitious of gaining the reputation of that venerable general (Halleck) whose “pen is mightier than his sword,” I am about to return to the army to offer my services in any capacity which will best promote the interests of the Federal cause – no matter how perilous the position may be.

And now I lay aside my pen, hoping that after “this cruel war is over,” and peace shall have once more shed her sweet influence over our land, I may be permitted to resume it again to record the annihilation of rebellion, and the final triumph of Truth, Right, and Liberty.

O Lord of Peace, who art Lord of Righteousness,Constrain the anguished worlds from sin and grief,Pierce them with conscience, purge them with redress,And give us peace which is no counterfeit!