Chapter 6
Several days after our company returned to Winchester, the scene I witnessed was distressing. Under a strong Federal guard, a wagon train of worn, weary, tattered, and hungry rebel prisoners arrived in town. Large crowds of ladies greeted and cheered them with words of comfort. The prisoners were not allowed to stop and take the food that was offered, but had to keep moving. Several times, I noticed some mothers or wives dashing to greet their sons or husbands that had taken part in this horrible engagement. It was known among us soldiers that many of the rebels we fought yesterday were from this area and had distinguished themselves at the first battle at Bull Run.
As I continued to ride through Winchester, I noticed that every place had been turned into a hospital. The courthouse on Main Street was full of wounded, and so were the vacant banks, the churches, and even homes of citizens. All were crowded with the wounded and dying.
At the Farmer’s Bank, I dismounted. Several groaning and ghastly forms were lying nearby. Several ladies looked pitifully on them while a surgeon informed the ladies that the men were dying. The ladies showed their compassion toward the soldiers even though they were dressed in Federal blue. It was much different than when we entered Winchester the first time. The ladies were very bitter and some even opened the windows of their homes and spit at us, making various threats against our lives.
Next, I went to the courthouse. The front veranda was filled with Federal soldiers who had died before they could receive medical attention. All of them had their coats covering their faces with paper pinned onto their coats with their names, company, and regiments before they went into the fight. Medical attendants soon arrived, removing them from the veranda to make room for more wounded. More wounded arrived continuously.
Glancing through the door of the courthouse, the sight and moaning sounds of the suffering were distressing. A lady walked over to a soldier and in a gesture of compassion, she lifted his head to give him a drink of water. It’s times such as this, to some individuals, it makes no difference if one is wearing blue or gray. The compassion and treatment are the same. I turned around and glanced to the opposite side of the room where another young lady of about 18 was taking some mush and a pitcher of milk and ministering to several soldiers from Illinois. While she was doing this good service, I noticed another Federal soldier gasping for breath. I understood from one of the nurses that he had been doing so for hours. Even as he laid on his coat on the floor suffering, an elderly man came and took the measurements for his coffin.
I didn’t see too many soldiers wearing gray or butternut. Later, I was informed by a citizen of the town that they were not allowed to carry off their dead and wounded until all the Yankees had been removed. The gentleman was quite concerned on the number of deaths that might have occurred because the men had not received medical attention.
When I had the chance, I rode back to the battlefield at Kernstown, and looked around. It was a somber scene. As I walked over the field where the fighting was the thickest, the trees were scarred all over where bullets struck. Branches lay everywhere that were fallen by balls. The blood from both Yankees and Rebels discolored the ground. Large pools of blood that soaked the ground could still be seen. Near the stone wall, a rebel’s haversack was lying on the ground nearby. I opened it and went through the Johnnies’ personal effects. The only precious item of value was a picture of three young boys and a woman. I assumed they were his family. He must not have survived the fight to leave something of such value behind. I took a hard swallow knowing that this soldier could have been me. I looked around and noticed a piece of gray blanket with holes in it and an old coat. A wounded horse from the battle was lying nearby and was killed by two darkies to relieve the animal from its continuous suffering. The two darkies immediately skinned the horse, probably for food while it was still warm.
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