Davidson County TN Archives News.....Stories of The War - A Young Heroine. December 21, 1886
************************************************

Copyright.  All rights reserved.

http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm
http://www.usgwarchives.net/tn/tnfiles.htm

************************************************



File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by:
Linda Blum-Barton http://www.genrecords.net/emailregistry/vols/00003.html#0000645 March 15, 2006, 10:32 pm

The Weekly Constitution, Atlanta, Ga. December 21, 1886
How a Beautiful Girl Saved a Soldier's Life - Where Is She Now?



For the Constitution.



On the night of August 6th, 1864, a train loaded with wounded confederate 

soldiers, left Atlanta on the Macon railroad.  The train was made up of 

ordinary box and cattle cars, and was destined for Macon.  The wounded, after 

having received such surgical aid as could be rendered at the field hospitals, 

were placed as thickly as possible on the bare floors of the cars, except in a 

few instances where the wounded man had been fortunate enough to bring his 

blanket or gum cloth with him from the field, in which case it had been placed 

under him.  In many instances, when the wounds were of a serious character, the 

soldier's clothing had necessarily been cut away by the surgeons, who not 

having other garments to replace those clotted with blood and probably cut into 

strings, the soldier was placed aboard the cars with only a shirt or a pair of 

drawers on, as he happened to be wounded in the lower or upper limbs.  This 

partial rudeness, however, instead of being a source of discomfort, proved a 

blessing, as the weather was unusually hot.  It enabled them to get the full 

benfit of the little breeze there was astir.



I occupied a small space in one of the cattle cars.  I had received a wound on 

the line that morning which necessitated the immediate amputation of a leg 

above the knee.  I must have been unconscious at the time of being put aboard 

the train, as the first distinct recollection I have was of being "shaken up," 

as if by the starting of the train.  I shall never forget the scene upon which 

my eyes opened.  A tallow candle at each end of the car threw a fitful and 

weird light over the ghastly spectacle.  Men there were wounded in every 

conceivable way -- some with shattered arms and legs; some with bloody stumps 

of limbs; some with gaping wounds in their trunks; others with torn and 

bandaged heads, and all with ghastly pain-distorted faces, and added to this 

the agonizing moans, prayers and cries for "water!" "water!" that rose above 

the din and rattle of the train, and it gave one an impression of the infernal 

regions, and I recall it now with a feeling of the greatest horror.



In strange contrast to these ghastly surroundings, however, was the appearance 

of two female figures -- an old or middle-aged lady and a young girl of fifteen 

or sixteen -- who were seated on a box or trunk just between the doors in the 

center of the car.  I remember a feeling of both surprise and joy at seeing 

them, although suffering tortures from my own wound at the time.  Where they 

came from or what was their destination are matters of conjecture, but I always 

supposed them to have been refugees from the storm of shot and shell which 

Sherman's guns was hourly pouring upon the beautiful gate city.  This train of 

wounded soldiers was doubtless the only means of transportation offered them, 

and they accepted it rather than remain amid the dangers surrounding their 

home.  They bore evidence of culture and refinement, and their bearing was that 

of well to do ladies.  But there they sat, surrounded by a sight that would 

make the stoutest heart quail.  No word passed between them and myself, but the 

old lady, turning her eyes in my direction, observed that a stream of blood was 

running from my wounded leg.  A ligature had slipped from the main artery, and 

death was only a question of a few minutes.  A few hurried whispers were 

exchanged between the two, and then the young girl arose and came and knelt 

down beside me, and takinga  handkerchief from her pocket tied it securely 

around the bleeding stump.  This done, she took a parasol which she carried, 

and passing it under the handkerchief, twisted it until the flow of blood was 

completely checked.  And thus she knelt through out that long night, holding 

the parasol upon which depended a human life while the the train went along at 

what appeared a snail's pace.  The slowness of the train was afterwards 

accounted for by the proximity of General Straight's cavalry.  We arrived at 

Griffin at 4 a.m. and through the efforts of my girlish preserver, I was taken 

from the train and carried to the Catoosa hospital, where the refractory artery 

received immediate attention.  Under the skillful treatment of the surgeons, 

and the kind nursing of the noble ladies of Griffin, I finally recovered.  The 

ladies probably continued their journey on the train, and from that day to this 

I have remained in ignorance of the name or residence of my preserver.  Not a 

word was exchanged between us.  She seemed in no mood to talk, and I was too 

weak and too sorely tortured by pain to utter anything save groans.  But my 

eyes seemed rivetted during all the long hours on her delicate, aristocratic 

face, and I well remember the traces of deep sympathy that mingled with her 

maidenly blushes.



Nearly a quarter of a century has passed since that terrible night; the old 

lady has probably been "gathered to her fathers," and the young girl, if 

living, has grown to be a woman of thirty-eight or forty -- maybe a happy wife 

and mother.  Time has doubtless obscured her recollections of the scenes but 

the boy-soldier, whose life her noble action saved, still lives, and cherishes 

and blesses her memory.  Away in the inmost chamber of my heart is the image of 

a sweet girlish face all covered with crimson blushes, and as often as memory 

reverts to those days of carnage and blood, I utter a benediction for the 

little Georgia heroine.



Austin D. Haynes

Then Lieut. and Adjut. 63d Va. Infty.

Nashville, Tenn.  Dec. 14th, 1886

File at: http://files.usgwarchives.net/tn/davidson/newspapers/storieso217gnw.txt

This file has been created by a form at http://www.genrecords.org/tnfiles/

File size: 6.3 Kb