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- Aug 27, 2011
- Location
- Central Massachusetts
Dick's story comes from Richard M. Devens' 1866 compilation: The pictorial book of anecdotes and incidents of the war of the rebellion, civil, military, naval and domestic. It is a huge (700 page) collection of accounts gathered from interviews, newspapers, letters, narratives of the war that had just ended. "Part Seventh" of the book, entitled "Domestic, moral, sanitary, affectional, matrimonial, romantic, etc," contains accounts largely written by women, one of whom, a nurse, tells of a hospital occurrence just after Gettysburg:
"Dick," the Four-Footed Orderly.
As we were flying about in every direction, now here, now there, (says a pleasing writer and eye-witness of what is here narrated,) with a pad for one, a basin and sponge to wet the wounds of another, cologne for a third, and milk punch for a fourth, I felt Dick (our hospital dog, my faithful friend and ally, a four-footed Vidocq, in his mode of scenting out grievances,) seize my dress in his teeth, pull it hard, and look eagerly up in my face. "What is it, Dick ? I am too busy to attend to you just now." Another hard pull and a beseeching look in his eyes." Presently, my fine fellow! presently. Gettysburg men must come first."
He wags his tail furiously, and still pulls my dress. Does he mean that he wants me for one of them? Perhaps so. "Come, Dick, I'll go with you." He starts off delighted, leads me to the ward where those worst wounded have been placed, travels the whole length of it to the upper corner, where lies a man apparently badly wounded, and crying like a child. I had seen him brought in on a stretcher, but in the confusion had not noticed where he had been taken. Dick halted as we arrived at the bed, looked at me, as much as to say, "There! isn't that a case requiring attention?" and then, as though quite satisfied to resign him into my hands, trotted quietly off.
He did not notice my approach; I therefore stood watching him a little while. His arm and hand, from which the bandage had partially slipped, were terribly swollen; the wound was in the wrist, (or rather, as I afterwards found, the ball had entered the palm of his hand and had come out at his wrist,) and appeared to be, as it subsequently proved, a very severe one.
My boast that I could make a pretty good conjecture what State a man came from by looking at him, did not avail me here. I was utterly at fault. His fair hair, Saxon face, so far as I could judge of it, as he lay sobbing on his pillow, had something feminine — almost child-like — in the innocence and gentleness of its expression, and my first thought was one which has constantly recurred on closer acquaintance, "How utterly unfit for a soldier!"
He wanted the quick, nervous energy of the New Englander, who, even when badly wounded, rarely fails to betray his origin; he had none of the rough, off-hand dash of our Western brothers, and could never have had it even in health; nor yet the stolidity of our Pennsylvania Germans. No! It was clear that I must wait until he chose to enlighten me as to his home. After a few minutes study, I was convinced that his tears were not from the pain of his wound; there was no contraction of the brow, no tension of the muscles, no quivering of the frame; he seemed simply very weary, very languid, like a tired child, arid I resolved to act accordingly.
"Did you notice my assistant orderly who came in with me just now? He had been over to see you before, for he came and told me you wanted me."
"I wanted you! No, ma'am, that's a mistake; no one's been near me since they bathed me, and gave me clean clothes — I know there hasn't for I watched them running all about; but none came to me, and I want so much to have my arm dressed." And the ready tears once more began to flow.
"There is no mistake. I told you that my assistant orderly came to me in the ladies' room, and told me that you needed me. Think again — who has been here since you were brought in?"
"Not a single soul, ma'am — indeed, not a thing, but a dog, standing looking in my face, and wagging his tail, as if he was pitying me."
"But a dog! Exactly he's my assistant orderly; he came over to me, pulled my dress, and wouldn't rest till I came to see you. I am surprised you speak so slightingly of poor Dick."
Here was at once a safe and fertile theme. I entered at large upon Dick's merits; his fondness for the men — his greater fondness, occasionally, for their dinners — his having made way with three lunches just prepared for the men who were starting — (the result probably of having heard the old story that the surgeons eat what is intended for the men,) our finding him one day on our table with his head in the pitcher of lemonade, and how I tried to explain to him that such was not the way of proving his regards for his friends, the soldiers, but I feared without much effect — in short, I made a long story out of nothing, till the ward-master arrived with his supper, saying that the doctor's orders were that the new cases should all take something to eat before he examined their wounds. My friend had quite forgotten his own troubles in listening to Dick's varied talents, and allowed me to give him his supper very quietly, as I found he was really too much exhausted even to raise his uninjured arm to his mouth. I had the pleasure of seeing him smile for good-bye.
"Dick," the Four-Footed Orderly.
As we were flying about in every direction, now here, now there, (says a pleasing writer and eye-witness of what is here narrated,) with a pad for one, a basin and sponge to wet the wounds of another, cologne for a third, and milk punch for a fourth, I felt Dick (our hospital dog, my faithful friend and ally, a four-footed Vidocq, in his mode of scenting out grievances,) seize my dress in his teeth, pull it hard, and look eagerly up in my face. "What is it, Dick ? I am too busy to attend to you just now." Another hard pull and a beseeching look in his eyes." Presently, my fine fellow! presently. Gettysburg men must come first."
He wags his tail furiously, and still pulls my dress. Does he mean that he wants me for one of them? Perhaps so. "Come, Dick, I'll go with you." He starts off delighted, leads me to the ward where those worst wounded have been placed, travels the whole length of it to the upper corner, where lies a man apparently badly wounded, and crying like a child. I had seen him brought in on a stretcher, but in the confusion had not noticed where he had been taken. Dick halted as we arrived at the bed, looked at me, as much as to say, "There! isn't that a case requiring attention?" and then, as though quite satisfied to resign him into my hands, trotted quietly off.
He did not notice my approach; I therefore stood watching him a little while. His arm and hand, from which the bandage had partially slipped, were terribly swollen; the wound was in the wrist, (or rather, as I afterwards found, the ball had entered the palm of his hand and had come out at his wrist,) and appeared to be, as it subsequently proved, a very severe one.
My boast that I could make a pretty good conjecture what State a man came from by looking at him, did not avail me here. I was utterly at fault. His fair hair, Saxon face, so far as I could judge of it, as he lay sobbing on his pillow, had something feminine — almost child-like — in the innocence and gentleness of its expression, and my first thought was one which has constantly recurred on closer acquaintance, "How utterly unfit for a soldier!"
He wanted the quick, nervous energy of the New Englander, who, even when badly wounded, rarely fails to betray his origin; he had none of the rough, off-hand dash of our Western brothers, and could never have had it even in health; nor yet the stolidity of our Pennsylvania Germans. No! It was clear that I must wait until he chose to enlighten me as to his home. After a few minutes study, I was convinced that his tears were not from the pain of his wound; there was no contraction of the brow, no tension of the muscles, no quivering of the frame; he seemed simply very weary, very languid, like a tired child, arid I resolved to act accordingly.
"Did you notice my assistant orderly who came in with me just now? He had been over to see you before, for he came and told me you wanted me."
"I wanted you! No, ma'am, that's a mistake; no one's been near me since they bathed me, and gave me clean clothes — I know there hasn't for I watched them running all about; but none came to me, and I want so much to have my arm dressed." And the ready tears once more began to flow.
"There is no mistake. I told you that my assistant orderly came to me in the ladies' room, and told me that you needed me. Think again — who has been here since you were brought in?"
"Not a single soul, ma'am — indeed, not a thing, but a dog, standing looking in my face, and wagging his tail, as if he was pitying me."
"But a dog! Exactly he's my assistant orderly; he came over to me, pulled my dress, and wouldn't rest till I came to see you. I am surprised you speak so slightingly of poor Dick."
Here was at once a safe and fertile theme. I entered at large upon Dick's merits; his fondness for the men — his greater fondness, occasionally, for their dinners — his having made way with three lunches just prepared for the men who were starting — (the result probably of having heard the old story that the surgeons eat what is intended for the men,) our finding him one day on our table with his head in the pitcher of lemonade, and how I tried to explain to him that such was not the way of proving his regards for his friends, the soldiers, but I feared without much effect — in short, I made a long story out of nothing, till the ward-master arrived with his supper, saying that the doctor's orders were that the new cases should all take something to eat before he examined their wounds. My friend had quite forgotten his own troubles in listening to Dick's varied talents, and allowed me to give him his supper very quietly, as I found he was really too much exhausted even to raise his uninjured arm to his mouth. I had the pleasure of seeing him smile for good-bye.
Bringing the