In Richmond, to-day, I saw my old friend, Mrs. E. R. Cocke,
looking after her sons. One was reported “wounded;” the other “missing.” This
sad word may mean that he is a prisoner; it may mean worse. She can get no clue
to him. His company has not come, and she is very miserable. Two mothers, one
from Georgia, another from Florida, have come on in pursuit of their sons, and
are searching the hospitals for them. They were not in our hospital, and we
could give them no information, so they went on to others. There is more
unhappiness abroad among our people than I have ever seen before. Sometimes I
wish I could sleep until it is over — a selfish wish enough; but it is hard to
witness so much sorrow which you cannot alleviate.
SOURCE: Judith W. McGuire, Diary of a Southern
Refugee, During the War, p. 231
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