In the cellar.—Wednesday evening H— said he must take
a little walk, and went while the shelling had stopped. He never leaves me
alone for long, and when an hour had passed without his return I grew anxious;
and when two hours, and the shelling had grown terrific, I momentarily expected
to see his mangled body. All sorts of horrors fill the mind now, and I am so
desolate here; not a friend. When he came he said that passing a cave where
there were no others near, he heard groans, and found a shell had struck above
and caused the cave to fall in on the man within. He could not extricate him
alone, and had to get help and dig him out. He was badly hurt, but not
mortally, and I felt fairly sick from the suspense. Yesterday morning a note
was brought H— from a bachelor uncle out in the trenches, saying he had been
taken ill with fever, and could we receive him if he came? H— sent to tell him
to come, and I arranged one of the parlors as a dressing-room for him, and laid
a pallet that he could move back and forth to the cellar. He did not arrive,
however. It is our custom in the evening to sit in the front room a little
while in the dark, with matches and candle held ready in hand, and watch the
shells, whose course at night is shown by the fuse. H— was at the window and suddenly
sprang up, crying, "Run!" — “Where?” — “Back!”
I started through the back room, H— after me. I was just within
the door when the crash came that threw me to the floor. It was the most
appalling sensation I'd ever known. Worse than an earthquake, which I've also
experienced. Shaken and deafened I picked myself up; H— had struck a light to
find me. I lighted mine, and the smoke guided us to the parlor I had fixed for
Uncle J—. The candles were useless in the dense smoke, and it was many minutes
before we could see. Then we found the entire side of the room torn out. The soldiers
who had rushed in said, “This is an eighty-pound Parrott.” It had entered
through the front, burst on the pallet-bed, which was in tatters; the toilet
service and everything else in the room smashed. The soldiers assisted H— to
board up the break with planks to keep out prowlers, and we went to bed in the
cellar as usual. This morning the yard is partially plowed by a couple that
fell there in the night. I think this house, so large and prominent from the
river, is perhaps taken for headquarters and specially shelled. As we descend
at night to the lower regions, I think of the evening hymn that grandmother
taught me when a child:
“Lord, keep us safe this night,
Secure from all our fears;
May angels guard us while we
sleep,
Till morning light appears.”
Surely, if there are heavenly guardians we need them now.
SOURCE: George W. Cable, “A Woman's Diary Of The Siege Of
Vicksburg”, The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, Vol. XXX, No.
5, September 1885, p. 771-2
No comments:
Post a Comment