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My story is hospitality.
I am Augusta Inge. In April 1862, Confederate General Albert Sidney Johnston made his headquarters in my home, Rose Cottage. I was so happy to have the leader of the Confederate Army at my house as a guest! On the day the Army left for Shiloh, I gave the General a lunch for the journey. He refused it saying that he, like his soldiers, traveled light. I slipped two sandwiches and a piece of cake in his pocket anyway. When I heard the horrifying news from Shiloh that General Johnston had been killed, my heart just ached. They brought his body back to my house for preparation for the last journey home. In his pocket, I found crumbs from the lunch I had prepared. Perhaps it was his last meal. I took the liberty of taking three locks of his hair from his head (one of which I sent to his widow) before they placed his body in one of the white pine coffins that he had ordered before leaving the City for Shiloh.
Showing posts with label Civil War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Civil War. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Unknown Soldier
My story is unknown.
I have no name…none marked in a book or on a tombstone somewhere. I came from a farm in south Alabama. During the War, I marched to Corinth just in time for the Battle of Shiloh. Soldiering was no child's play in Corinth or at Shiloh. I was wounded but not seriously. Once we saw that victory at Shiloh would not be, we hightailed it back to Corinth. I was taken to a hospital that wasn't really a hospital at all. It was Corona Female College. General Beauregard had asked the special permission of Mrs. Susan Gaston, one of the few citizens who chose to remain in town after the hostilities began, to use the college as a temporary hospital for us. By the time I got back from Shiloh, Corona was so full of the wounded and dying that I had to take my treatment outside. With my wounded arm, I wasn't nearly as bad off as many of the other poor boys. The docs decided the best thing for my arm would be to take it off. I fussed and argued to save my arm...I wish I hadn't. The nurses, those angels of mercy, did everything they could to make us comfortable in our tents on the grounds. It did me no good. Lacking so much: medicine, attention from the overworked doctors, good food, and warm shelter did me in. My life could probably have been saved but it was not to be. I wasn't in Corinth long until I made it my final resting place.
I have no name…none marked in a book or on a tombstone somewhere. I came from a farm in south Alabama. During the War, I marched to Corinth just in time for the Battle of Shiloh. Soldiering was no child's play in Corinth or at Shiloh. I was wounded but not seriously. Once we saw that victory at Shiloh would not be, we hightailed it back to Corinth. I was taken to a hospital that wasn't really a hospital at all. It was Corona Female College. General Beauregard had asked the special permission of Mrs. Susan Gaston, one of the few citizens who chose to remain in town after the hostilities began, to use the college as a temporary hospital for us. By the time I got back from Shiloh, Corona was so full of the wounded and dying that I had to take my treatment outside. With my wounded arm, I wasn't nearly as bad off as many of the other poor boys. The docs decided the best thing for my arm would be to take it off. I fussed and argued to save my arm...I wish I hadn't. The nurses, those angels of mercy, did everything they could to make us comfortable in our tents on the grounds. It did me no good. Lacking so much: medicine, attention from the overworked doctors, good food, and warm shelter did me in. My life could probably have been saved but it was not to be. I wasn't in Corinth long until I made it my final resting place.
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