Page 53 of Under the Tulip Tree
Although it was the army’s responsibility to supply the hospitals with doctors, medicines, and food, we spent the day tearing sheets into bandages, scrubbing floors, and assisting Miz Michaels, the matron in charge, with anything else needed. Her staff scurried about, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to be a nurse.
When I found Miz Michaels at the end of the long day and let her know we were leaving, I said, “When the wounded arrive, I’d like to help.”
She studied me, a grave look on her face. “Until you’ve seen it for yourself, you can’t imagine the horror left in the wake of battle. Most of the men who will come here won’t survive. Many will lose arms and legs. Infection, gangrene, and dysentery are daily struggles. A hospital is no place for anyone with a weak constitution.”
I stood my ground. “I’ve seen plenty in my day. No one would ever say I had a weak constitution.”
After a lengthy silence, she conceded. “If what we’ve heard about the number of wounded in Franklin is to be believed, I fear what we can expect once the fighting recommences here. Everyone who is able and willing to help will be welcomed.”
Illa didn’t return the following day, so Nell and I stayed in camp. I still had my job working for the officers, and plenty of laundry awaited me. A drizzling rain plagued us all morning, and by noon word came that thousands more Federal soldiers had arrived by boat during the night. Nell and I joined others from the camp and climbed the hill, with the fort towering over us, to look across the city to the Cumberland. As far as I could see, the wide river teemed with vessels of all sizes. One fellow nearby said the ships were military transports and ironclad gunboats, the best the Federal navy had to offer. I shivered, thinking what kind of damage guns from a ship that size could do.
It wasn’t long before the soldier camp and fort overflowed with even more men in blue uniforms. A general named Thomas was now commander of all the troops in Nashville, and I heard one of the officers say they numbered nearly sixty thousand strong. I couldn’t imagine the enemy going up against such a force, yet scouts continued to deliver messages letting the officers know the Confederates had taken up positions south of the city.
Three days after the Franklin campaign, I trudged through thick mud and rain after long hours of scrubbingfilthy laundry. All I wanted was my cot, but getting across the soldier camp proved difficult. Thousands more canvas tents had sprung up since that morning, like weeds in a garden. It seemed there wasn’t a square inch of muddy ground that didn’t have a tent or a soldier occupying it.
Along with the hordes of new soldiers came dozens of women, white and black alike, known as camp followers. I kept my head down and didn’t acknowledge the painted ladies who wore revealing dresses despite the chilly December air.
Two years ago, white women who made a living selling their bodies to the soldiers had been rounded up and shipped north in hopes of stemming the sickness the men were contracting at an alarming rate. They were quickly replaced with black gals willing to do whatever it took to survive, thus not solving the problem at all.
Seeing these new arrivals and knowing the reality of their miserable lives, I felt a gratitude swell inside me that I wasn’t counted among them.
Near exhaustion and soaked to the bone, I finally found my way to the contraband camp, eager for dry clothes and my bed. Nell’s voice greeted me, but it was Sam’s smile that made my heart leap.
“Hello, Frankie.” He stood in our tent, covered from head to toe in mud.
“Land sakes, what’ve you been doing? You carrying around half o’ Tennessee on your back.”
He chuckled. “They have us digging trenches west of thecity.”
“I thought they’d taken care of that years ago.”
“They did. There’s seven miles of trenches to the south and west, but the new man in charge wants more.”
I wished Nell wasn’t sitting here listening. I wanted to ask Sam all kinds of questions about the Franklin battle and if he’d heard when we might see fighting here in Nashville. But I didn’t want to frighten her further. She’d had nightmares ever since hearing Miz Michaels talk about amputations, disease, and such.
“I can’t stay. We can see the Rebs putting up breastworks. They ain’t more than a quarter mile from the Yankees’ line. I’m to drive one of the wagons to haul supplies down yonder for the soldiers.”
Disappointment washed over me. I’d hoped Sam was no longer needed by the army. I hated to think of him in harm’s way. “Have you had word from Miz Illa?”
He shook his head. “I worry she might not be able to get back, what with Hood’s army camped between Franklin and here.”
I hadn’t considered that. Concern for the kind woman appeared on each of our faces.
He donned his dirty, bedraggled hat. “I best be getting back.” I followed him to the opening in the canvas. Before ducking out into the rain, he turned and whispered, “Remember what I said. Get to the fort when the fighting commences.”
I nodded, and he was gone. Not long afterward, the rain stopped and the cannons began. Thankfully, they quieted after a short time, but it served to put everyone on edge.While we stood in line for our supper—a thin, watery gruel—I noticed it was mainly women and children in camp, many new faces among them. Like Sam, the men and older boys had been conscripted to reinforce fortifications around the city.
Sometime after we’d crawled onto our cots for the night, we woke to loud, earth-shattering blasts. I wrapped myself in my blanket and poked my head out the tent. Stars twinkled in the black sky, but shouts filled the air.
“The gunboats is firing!” someone yelled.
I wondered if we should make our way up the hill to safety behind the fort’s walls, but it didn’t seem as though the Confederates were firing back. At least not with anything as powerful as the Yankees. The boats on the Cumberland roared their guns all through the next day. Nell and I stayed in our tent, and I finally asked about her life in slavery. Her story held as much sadness as mine. Her master had used her body for his own pleasure, and she’d delivered two babies before she was fourteen years old. Both had been sold away from her to cover the man’s shame. I couldn’t imagine that sort of pain. I thought about the babies I lost. Somehow it seemed easier knowing they were dead rather than living in bondage where I couldn’t protect them.
“What do you want to do when the war is over and we’re free?” I asked, hoping to lighten the conversation.
A small smile touched her lips. “I’d like to find me a good man and have a house of my own.”
I hoped her simple dream came true.
