Many hospital wards were overcrowded and ill equipped.
During the Civil War, Lindsley Hall, part of the
University
of Nashville was used as a hospital.
Let’s follow the diary of a young nurse, Elvira J. Powers,
who served as a nurse in military hospitals in the Louisville area and
Nashville. Here are her thoughts just prior to Christmas in 1863.
Friday, Dec. 9.
The first snow of the season. Winter has really come to the
Ohio valley.
Much public excitement in Louisville. Men are being
conscripted, and horses impressed. Several thousand soldiers have just been
sent there, as they anticipate a cavalry raid from the rebels. Hood is
threatening Nashville. He says he "… is ordered either to go into
Nashville, or to " a certain very warm place. Our boys [Union soldiers]
think he will get into the latter place first.
Yesterday was at work most of the day and evening on
evergreen wreaths to trim the ward. Christmas is coming I have plenty of help
from the ward-master, chief nurse and convalescents. How kind they all are. I
receive nothing in my ward from the surgeon down, but the greatest respect and
consideration.
Friday, Dec.16.
The first death in my ward, since my coming, occurred last
night. It was that of Robert Burnett, of Kentucky. On Sunday morning, over a
week since, I found him lying in bed and that he had not been out to breakfast,
as he had done the two days previous, since entering the ward.
Upon conversing with him he told me he was going to die. I
saw that he was excited and thought he was nervous and tried to quiet him. But
he was sure, he said, that he should die, " he understood why I did not
think so, and appreciated what I said, but he knew he was going to die, "
and asked if I would stay by him whenever I could, and he begged for a promise
that I would be by him and " watch his face when he died." These were
his exact words, and though I did not think he was dangerous and told him so,
yet he would not be pacified till I promised if he died at any hour when we
were allowed in the ward, or if at any other, and he was conscious and would
send for me, I would be with him. He was also concerned for the future, for he
was not a Christian, he said. I read for him from the Bible, sang for him, and
the chaplain's orderly came and prayed with him. He professed afterward to
think himself prepared to die, and he gradually grew worse each day until he
died. I remained with him until late last evening, but he was unconscious else
I should have remained until his death. He died about twelve. I had written to
his wife the first day, but the mails are interrupted by guerillas. He has two
brother-in-laws here, who have started home with his body. At the funeral
service we sang the appropriate hymn,
" Oh! watch my dying face,
When I am called to die."
Wednesday, Dec. 21.
Transfers and furloughs are the order of the day. Some
twenty-five hundred have been transferred from Nashville to this hospital, this
month. From fifty to two, three or four hundred are transferred from here at
one time, to hospitals farther north. As we hear that those are pretty well
filled, it seems just the time to give as many sick furloughs as possible, thus
clearing the hospitals for those unable to go home.
Saturday, Dec. 24.
The second death in the ward. It was that of a young,
noble-looking man—Prevo, of the 40th Indiana. He died of a gunshot wound, the
ball entering the lungs. He was battling with the grim monster all day
yesterday, and thought himself at one time on a forced march through the
country of an enemy, and at another in the heat of battle, when he would cheer
on the soldiers. A lock of hair and a few words of condolence will go to one
more mourning family in place of the dear, noble boy.
Great preparations are being made for Christmas tomorrow ;
thus death and feasting go hand in hand in this strange world of ours.
Another died last Sunday in Ward 23, who had been for a long
time in this ward. He shed tears when he was transferred, and I interceded to
have him remain, but there are wards to which an order obliges patients to be
removed when suffering from chronic diarrhea or lung diseases, and he was one
of the former. But at his request I visited him, and after his death, which
came suddenly, procured a lock of his hair from the dead-house and sent it to
his father.
Christmas Evening.
Our dinner was truly a success. It was given by the Sanitary
Commission principally, and a portion from the hospital fund. Much less stir
was made about it, and one soldier expressed the general feeling, who said he
" enjoyed the. Christmas dinner the most, for there wasn't so much style
about it." Very excellent oyster soup for the light diet was given each
time. Twenty-one hundred pies were issued for dinner, seventy-one cans of
oysters, with eighteen hundred pounds of beef a la mode, also four barrels of
pickles.
Friday, Dec. 30.
Most of the wards are now radiant with evergreen, tissue
paper and pictures. I am content that mine should rank third or fourth in its
adornings, rather than neglect the weightier matter of attending to the sick
men—of whom I had quite a number last week requiring much care. The last death,
mentioned under date of the 24th, was the second only in the ward since my
entrance—a period of over two months, and the fifth since being in the charge
of the present Burgeon, which is eight months. But the mortality in the
hospital is increasing very much in consequence of war's grim visage
.approaching nearer to us. A week ago last Sunday there were eleven dead bodies
in the dead-house, and fourteen deaths occurred in three days.
Source: Hospital
Pencillings, Powers, 1866.
The full diary is available at HathiTrust: https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/006784079