No Hope of Recovery?

Tom Elmore

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It is said that where there is still life, there is still hope.

Part I

Chaplain George Patterson of the 3rd North Carolina was asked to visit the gravely wounded Colonel Risden T. Bennett of the 14th North Carolina on the night before the army retreated. Bennett had been shot on July 3. He asked the chaplain to read the burial service over him before he departed, remarking, “For I know I’m as good as dead.” Patterson readily assented, and conducted the solemn service. Bennett was placed in an ambulance for the trip home, but he eventually recovered his health. In 1886, while visiting a western town, Bennett recognized the old chaplain and extended a warm greeting. Patterson did not recognize him: “I don’t know you, sir. Who are you?” The former officer replied, “I am Colonel Bennett, of the 14th North Carolina regiment.” Patterson quickly retorted, “Now I know you are lying, for I buried him at Gettysburg.” (Greg Coco, On the Bloodstained Field, quoting from R. H. McKim, A Soldier’s Recollections.)

Captain Azor H. Nickerson of Company I, 8th Ohio, was shot through one arm and both lungs while on the skirmish line on July 2. He tried to run, but blood gushed from his mouth and he collapsed, unconscious. He came around while an ambulance attendant was bathing his face, then endured a bumpy and harrowing ride in an ambulance to a field hospital, probably at the Catherine Guinn farm on the Taneytown road. As Surgeon Henry M. McAbee looked him over, Nickerson ventured that it looked very badly for him. McAbee, who had performed hundreds of operations as chief surgeon of the division, responded, “very badly.” “You know I am not afraid to hear the worst; is there any hope for me, doctor?” “No,” said he, very kindly, patting the captain on the forehead as he looked away, “no, my boy, none whatsoever.” Nevertheless, three decades later Nickerson had the last word: “And yet poor Surgeon McAbee is many years dead, and I am still here.” (Personal Recollections of Two Visits to Gettysburg, by A. H. Nickerson, Scribner’s Magazine, New York: Charles Schribner’s Sons, July 1893)

“The Lieutenant [Samuel Judson Fletcher] was wounded at the same time I was – shot through the head. The doctor said he could not live; but when I last saw him, day before yesterday, he was looking much better, and I am confident he will, with good care, recover.” [Fletcher was shot in the jaw; he died in July 1924 at the age of 93.] (8 July 1863 letter of 1st Sergeant Edward F. Chapin, Company H, 15th Massachusetts; Busey and Busey, Union Casualties at Gettysburg, 1:193)

Orderly Sergeant James Wright of Company E, 22nd Massachusetts was shot through a lung, the ball being taken out of his back. Wright was examined repeatedly by surgeons for several days, and warned that his case was incurable. Well-meaning helpers in the hospital also told Wright (and others in similar condition) that he should prepare for death. But Wright refused to give up. Finally a brigade surgeon of the regular army after a careful inspection said: “I believe that as you have lived ten days you will recover.” Wright replied, “You are the first surgeon who has understood my case.” [Wright rejoined his regiment in October, although he could no longer stand the exposure and was sent home.] (Musket and Sword, by Edwin C. Bennett, Boston: Coburn Publishing Co., 1900, p. 144)

Private Joseph Irwin of Company B, 29th Pennsylvania was shot at close range while the regiment was returning to its supposedly unoccupied breastworks on Culp’s Hill after dark on July 2. A minie ball entered his back above the hips, grazed the spine, passed through the stomach and lodged under the skin about two inches above the navel. His comrades carried him off in a blanket, then he endured a tortuous jolting ride in an ambulance to the field hospital, where the regiment’s doctor intimated that his case was hopeless. Irwin was given morphine to sleep, but it had no effect and he suffered all night in great pain. On July 3, Irwin coaxed a surgeon into removing the ball, which afforded him much relief. His condition slowly but steadily improved. Irwin was later moved to Camp Letterman, then to Satterlee hospital in Philadelphia. He was discharged for disability on May 15, 1865. (Letters of Joseph Irwin; Busey and Busey, Union Casualties at Gettysburg, 2:801)
 
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Part II

Captain Benton H. Miller of Company D, 59th Georgia sustained a compound fracture of the upper third of his right thigh on July 2. He was carried off the field at dawn on July 3 and taken to Hood’s division hospital at the John Plank farm. Miller was taken to a tent, but a surgeon of the 11th Georgia said it was of no use, he would certainly die. He was sent to the dead-house, where he remained 15 days. A young man of Miller’s company found a piece of rail and with a shirt tied up his leg. A surgeon from Gettysburg eventually showed up and suggested “Smith’s anterior and post-splint,” which was applied with success. But in the meantime, Miller’s leg had shortened 4.5 inches. He was taken to the Letterman General Hospital on August 12, and on November 3 he was transported to the West’s Building Hospital in Baltimore. On November 15 he was transferred to Fort McHenry and a week later he was moved to the Point Lookout prison camp. [Andrew B. Cross, The Battle of Gettysburg and the Christian Commission, Baltimore, 1865, p. 26]

Sergeant Francis L. Hudgins, Company K, 38th Georgia was struck on July 1. A minie ball entered his left breast, going down over and out under the fifth rib. Hudgins recalled: “The gallant Lieutenant Baxter, the bravest of the brave, walked up to me where I stood, the blood spurting at every breath, looked me straight in the face, and said: ‘I think you are about gone up, old fellow.’ I thought then, and I haven’t changed my mind since, that this was the poorest consolation I ever had offered me in life. Dr. Taylor, Assistant Surgeon, came up, and I asked him what he thought of my chance. He examined me rather hurriedly and said: ‘I don’t see why you should not get well.’ I said: ‘Doctor, I’ll take your advice.’ ” [F. L. Hudgins, With the 38th Georgia Regiment, Confederate Veteran, vol. 26, 1918, p. 162]

Second Lieutenant William Jasper Muse of Company B, 1st Tennessee was shot three times, including through his right lung, which bled profusely. Assistant Surgeon William E. Pearson of his regiment wrote Muse off as dead and said he could do nothing. But Private J. Monroe Johnson kept insisting the doctor periodically check on Muse. Finally Pearson said, “There is a spark of life left.” Johnson replied, “As long as there is life there is hope.” Pearson, Johnson and fellow Private Bill Vaughan pulled off their coats, rolled up their sleeves and went to work trying to save Muse. They worked all night, never stopping and never giving up. They finally moved Muse along with his bed into one of the stalls of a large barn that served as a field hospital. He was left behind and taken prisoner, remaining near Gettysburg for 18 days until sent to the General Hospital on David’s Island, New York, via the steamship “Len.” There he joined 2,700 other wounded prisoners. Two months later Muse was forwarded to Johnson’s Island, Ohio to sit out the war. In early March 1865, he was finally selected for exchange, reaching Richmond on March 22, 1865. On the morning of April 2, he rode the train to Petersburg to rejoin his regiment. Two hours later Grant launched the attack that culminated in the surrender of Lee’s army at Appomattox. It took Muse 15 months to fully recover at his home from the ravages of war, including six months spent in bed. As of 1907, he celebrated 42 years of reasonably good health and prepared a biographical sketch of his experiences. [Civil War News, July 2019, pp. 12-13]

Private Jordan Moore of Company C, Jeff Davis Legion Cavalry, from Kemper County, Mississippi, was shot “through and through” (gunshot, left breast) on July 3. His orderly (first) sergeant, Napoleon P. Perrin, placed him against a tree, left him a canteen of water, and bade him “good-bye.” Perrin subsequently marked him on the roll as “Killed in Action.” However, within two months Moore reappeared in camp sound and well; he survived the war. Jordan had been taken captive and sent to the DeCamp General Hospital on David’s Island, New York, where he recovered rapidly and was paroled on August 24. [Mississippi at Gettysburg, by William A. Love, Mississippi Historical Society, 1906; Compiled Service Records of Moore and Perrin]

Captain John G. B. “Jack” Adams of the 19th Massachusetts was badly wounded on July 2 and taken to a field hospital where he was surrounded by wounded and dying men. Jack asked an assistant surgeon to look at his wound. He did, and said that he could not live 24 hours. Jack suggested that he stop the blood, as he might be mistaken, but the doctor had no time to waste on him and went along. Upon examination Jack found that he was wounded in three places, all bleeding badly, but he could not tell where the bullets had entered or exited. That night a surgeon came with an ambulance and said he must be moved to the Second Corps hospital, as the field hospital was too close to the line of battle. With no stretcher available, Jack was placed on a board, and loaded on the vehicle. The movement reopened his wounds. A mile to the rear Jack was dumped by the roadside with other wounded men. The next day he had to endure errant rounds from the afternoon cannonade, as well as fleeing stragglers. Jack finally caught the attention of a passing staff officer, who had him carried to the rear of a barn, where he was loaded into another ambulance with his first sergeant, Albert Damon. The two were tossed about and into each other before arriving at the hospital of the Second Corps, Second Division. There Surgeon J. Franklin Dyer of his regiment examined him and said, “It is a bad wound, John, a very bad wound.” One ball had passed completely through his right hip, but another had lodged in his groin. The only attention Jack received in the following days came from comrades. Yet he did not blame the surgeons, who were kept busy with cases requiring amputation. He received chicken broth in an old coffee pot made by his men and brought to him by two fellow officers who had ridden 15 miles to deliver it. Jack took matters into his own hands and arranged transport to a hospital established in a church in Littlestown, where two town doctors and some local women cared for the wounded. A young lady named Lucy nursed him through a dangerous fever. Adams eventually recovered at the Newton University Hospital in Baltimore. He passed away on October 19, 1900, at the age of 59. (Reminiscences of the Nineteenth Massachusetts Regiment, by Capt. John G. B. Adams, Boston: 1899)
 
In reference to my initial post, noted author Robert Wynstra brought to my attention that the incident described by R. H. McKim and Greg Coco in his book, On the Bloodstained Field, involving Chaplain George Patterson of the 3rd North Carolina, could not have had anything to do with Colonel Risden Bennett of the 14th North Carolina.

Further research uncovered a similar story involving Chaplain Patterson, although it too contains an unsolvable mystery:

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(Source: The Rev. George Patterson, D.D., by Thomas F. Gailor, The Sewanee Review, vol. X, October 1902, NY: Longmans, Green and Co., pp. 439-449)

… In 1886, Dr. Patterson related a story about a fine young officer [in the regiment] named Allen Brown. “I knew his mother, and she said to me: ‘Mr. Patterson, I want you to look after my boy.’ ‘Of course, I shall,’ I said. ‘He is a good boy; and if anything happens to him, I shall give him the last rites of the Church.’ She said she hoped he wouldn’t need my services in that way, but I promised her all the same. Well, we got on nicely – very nicely – for a while, till we got to that Gettysburg place. … Well, after the second day’s fight at Gettysburg, some of the boys came in and said: ‘Mr. Patterson, your boy’s done shot out there. He’s killed; we saw him fall.’ ‘Who is it?’ I said. ‘Your boy, Allen Brown.’ [Patterson ignored warnings that he was taking a great risk in going to the battlefield, but he felt obliged to fulfill his pledge. Taking a lantern he located Brown …] with a big hole in his chest, and he was bound to die. And I raised him up and said: ‘Allen, my boy, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid you can’t get well.’ And he said: ‘No, Mr. Patterson, it’s all up with me. But you’ll tell mother, won’t you, that I died doing my duty, with my face to the enemy?’ ‘Indeed, I will, my boy.’ ‘But Allen, you’re a good Church boy, and I promised your mother to give you the last rites of the Church. Any you know I can’t stay out here. I just can’t do it. And you are going to die about the turn of the day, and they’re not going to bury you. They’ll just throw you into a ditch without a service. Allen, I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll read the burial service over you right now.’ And he said: ‘All right, Mr. Patterson.’ So I gave him the lantern to hold, and I read the burial service over him, and he answered the responses. ‘Now that was remarkable, wasn’t it?’ said the doctor.”

[Sometime in the future, while in Nashville, Tennessee visiting some old North Carolina friends, a stranger hailed him] “ ‘Isn’t this Mr. Patterson, of North Carolina?’ ‘Of course it is; who else could it be?’ ‘Well, don’t you know me?’ ‘Why, how could I know you? I never saw you before in my life.’ ‘Well, I’m Allen Brown.’ ‘What, you don’t say! Aren’t you the boy I buried at Gettysburg?’ And it was indeed the same boy. He had been taken to a Federal field hospital, and was nursed back to health. … He was then living near Columbia, Tennessee.” Patterson died on December 10, 1901.

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Unfortunately, there is no record of an Allen Brown in the 3rd North Carolina, and no one by that name who fell at Gettysburg. Presuming the story is basically true, perhaps we all we can say at this time is that it involved an unidentified officer or enlisted soldier in the 3rd North Carolina who was severely wounded in the attack on Culp’s Hill on the evening of July 2, and whom Chaplain Patterson encountered later that night at a Confederate aid station or field hospital established east of Rock Creek.
 
You don't go til the Good Lord calls your name on His roster and puts a check mark next to it.

How does that work? Is He sitting around and decides out of the blue "let's give old Joe a heart attack today."? If he decides to have you murdered doesn't that interfere with the murderers free will?
 
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How does that work? Is He sitting around and decides out of the blue "let's give old Joe a heart attack today."? If he decides to have you murdered doesn't that interfere with the murderers free will?
No, It shows that all the people involved thought the end of life on earth was about to occur, but It was not up to them to make that call. The Col. recovered and lived longer. As far as Joe's heart attack, that would be brought on by the frailty of the person involved. Not by any Heavenly command. Neither would there be a command to have you killed. That would occur due to the unstable mental condition of the murderer. Nothing to do with free will. I always wonder why all lawyers don't use the insanity plea more in a murder charge. There is no sanity in killing someone other then in self defense. A cold blooded murderer is flat out insane.
 
In reference to my initial post, noted author Robert Wynstra brought to my attention that the incident described by R. H. McKim and Greg Coco in his book, On the Bloodstained Field, involving Chaplain George Patterson of the 3rd North Carolina, could not have had anything to do with Colonel Risden Bennett of the 14th North Carolina.

Further research uncovered a similar story involving Chaplain Patterson, although it too contains an unsolvable mystery:

-----------------

(Source: The Rev. George Patterson, D.D., by Thomas F. Gailor, The Sewanee Review, vol. X, October 1902, NY: Longmans, Green and Co., pp. 439-449)

… In 1886, Dr. Patterson related a story about a fine young officer [in the regiment] named Allen Brown. “I knew his mother, and she said to me: ‘Mr. Patterson, I want you to look after my boy.’ ‘Of course, I shall,’ I said. ‘He is a good boy; and if anything happens to him, I shall give him the last rites of the Church.’ She said she hoped he wouldn’t need my services in that way, but I promised her all the same. Well, we got on nicely – very nicely – for a while, till we got to that Gettysburg place. … Well, after the second day’s fight at Gettysburg, some of the boys came in and said: ‘Mr. Patterson, your boy’s done shot out there. He’s killed; we saw him fall.’ ‘Who is it?’ I said. ‘Your boy, Allen Brown.’ [Patterson ignored warnings that he was taking a great risk in going to the battlefield, but he felt obliged to fulfill his pledge. Taking a lantern he located Brown …] with a big hole in his chest, and he was bound to die. And I raised him up and said: ‘Allen, my boy, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid you can’t get well.’ And he said: ‘No, Mr. Patterson, it’s all up with me. But you’ll tell mother, won’t you, that I died doing my duty, with my face to the enemy?’ ‘Indeed, I will, my boy.’ ‘But Allen, you’re a good Church boy, and I promised your mother to give you the last rites of the Church. Any you know I can’t stay out here. I just can’t do it. And you are going to die about the turn of the day, and they’re not going to bury you. They’ll just throw you into a ditch without a service. Allen, I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll read the burial service over you right now.’ And he said: ‘All right, Mr. Patterson.’ So I gave him the lantern to hold, and I read the burial service over him, and he answered the responses. ‘Now that was remarkable, wasn’t it?’ said the doctor.”

[Sometime in the future, while in Nashville, Tennessee visiting some old North Carolina friends, a stranger hailed him] “ ‘Isn’t this Mr. Patterson, of North Carolina?’ ‘Of course it is; who else could it be?’ ‘Well, don’t you know me?’ ‘Why, how could I know you? I never saw you before in my life.’ ‘Well, I’m Allen Brown.’ ‘What, you don’t say! Aren’t you the boy I buried at Gettysburg?’ And it was indeed the same boy. He had been taken to a Federal field hospital, and was nursed back to health. … He was then living near Columbia, Tennessee.” Patterson died on December 10, 1901.

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Unfortunately, there is no record of an Allen Brown in the 3rd North Carolina, and no one by that name who fell at Gettysburg. Presuming the story is basically true, perhaps we all we can say at this time is that it involved an unidentified officer or enlisted soldier in the 3rd North Carolina who was severely wounded in the attack on Culp’s Hill on the evening of July 2, and whom Chaplain Patterson encountered later that night at a Confederate aid station or field hospital established east of Rock Creek.

Robert Wynstra has solved the mystery, which appears obvious now. The officer whom Chaplain Patterson interacted with on the battlefield was Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton Allen Brown of the 1st North Carolina.
 
Part III

Lieutenant Colonel Michael J. Bulger, then 57 years of age, led the 47th Alabama into combat on July 2, after Colonel James W. Jackson was unable to physically keep up with the advance. At the foot of Little Round Top, a minie ball entered Bulger’s chest and lodged under his right shoulder blade. He was taken prisoner and sent to a Federal field hospital. When he asked about his prospects for recovery, the doctor responded: “You have about one chance in a hundred.” Bulger replied, “I will take that chance.” He did recover and even lived to see the new century, dying on December 14, 1900 at age 94. (Confederate Veteran, vol. 5 (1897), p. 475; https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/14387514/michael-jefferson-bulger)

Private Isaac H. Allen of Company D, 13th Mississippi, was wounded by a minie ball while advancing on July 2. He was picked up by comrades later that night and sent to a field hospital – probably the John S. Crawford farm on Marsh Creek. One or more surgeons examined his fractured thigh and concluded his case was incurable, so they gave him no more attention. He reportedly languished five days until an unidentified woman arrived in a fine carriage with a driver. She helped secure medical attention for him from two Federal surgeons, who dressed his wounds. Isaac was afterwards admitted to Camp Letterman, and on November 3 he was forwarded to a General Hospital in Baltimore. He was exchanged in March 1864 and retired to the Invalid Corps. After the war he moved to Texas. (The Official Records of the 13th Mississippi Infantry Regiment, by Jess N. McLean; Compiled Service Records)

Private Daniel I. Walden of Company E, 10th Georgia was severely wounded in the head and lay on the field unnoticed for as long as three days, before being transported to a hospital. Examining surgeons gave no chance for his life, and he was allowed to return to his home in Atlanta. There a silver plate was grafted on his head, which covered his exposed brain. He recovered and became a prolific writer. Walden died in Atlanta on September 1, 1930, at age 89. (Confederate Veteran magazine, vol. 38, November 1930, p. 435)

Private Alexander Weil of Company I, 2nd Louisiana, a 32-year old from Rhenish Bavaria (the Palatinate), was struck by a minie ball on the left side of his head, a wound the surgeon initially pronounced as fatal. However, he recovered after six pieces of the ball were extracted. Weil afterwards carried the largest fragment in his watch charm. (Biographical and Historical Memoirs of Northwest Louisiana, p. 459)

Lieutenant John Robert Boyle of Company C, 12th South Carolina received a grape shot in his right leg below the knee, which shattered the bones into splinters. Transported three miles back to a field hospital, the Irish wagon driver said, “Poor boy, I hope we’ll soon reach your hospital.” Boyle begged the brigade surgeon to perform the amputation, rather than his own regimental surgeon, but his wish was not granted. When he regained consciousness from the chloroform, he found himself lying in a tent on a pile of straw, with his right leg gone. He heard whispers that he was gone and had no chance. Boyle felt his “time had come and was resigned to [his] fate, but thought it hard.” He was initially tended to by Edgar Powell, Quartermaster Sergeant of the 1st South Carolina. Boyle recovered to write of his experiences 25 years later, although a botched amputation done by a very drunk regimental surgeon made it impossible for him to ever wear an artificial limb. (Reminiscences of the Civil War, by Lt. J. R. Boyle of Company C, 12th South Carolina)
 
Part IV

2nd Lieutenant R. Emmet Goolrick of Company M, 55th Virginia "was very seriously wounded at the battle of Gettysburg, Pa. while in the gallant discharge of his duty. The surgeons reported him mortally wounded, but he is now slowly recovering, but will not, I have good reason to believe, be fit for service for many months. His shoulder blade, which was shattered by the exit of the ball, is yet working out, and he is almost constantly confined to the house." (Early November 1863 letter of Capt. Sam Denning, 55th Virginia, to Col. Robert A. Chilton, Assistant Adjutant General, Army of Northern Virginia; Fold3, Confederate Letters)

Captain John C. Conser, Company H, 105th Pennsylvania was shot in the head just above the left temple, while his regiment fought Barksdale's Mississippians on July 2. He was carried from the field and thought to be dead. His death was reported at home, and he was mourned by his friends. However, he did recover and, after a short stay at home, rejoined his regiment. He was wounded three more times during the war, until the battle of the Boydton Plank Road on October 27, 1864, when he was surrounded in a hand-to-hand encounter and shot dead at point blank range. (Hard-Luck Officers of the 105th Pennsylvania Infantry, by Ronn Palm, Military Images, Jan/Feb 2002, vol. XXIII, no. 4, pp. 18-19)

Private William S. Hewitt, Company F, 136th New York, was struck in the forehead by a musket ball on July 3. "He was given up by the surgeons to die. He, however, recovered and rejoined his regiment, and did duty in the hazardous service of scout until discharged for disability. Some curious souvenirs he left to his friends were finger rings manufactured by himself from pieces of bone taken from the wound in his head. … Two sons and a daughter survive him." (Obituary from National Tribune, August 9, 1894, p. 6)

"After dark [July 3], sent out videttes. In the night we were attacked and the boys jumped up out of their sleep and blazed away at them, and in their excitement the man from our company that we sent out came rushing over the works and was shot … I supposed he was mortally wounded, for he fell over the works right where I was, and I saw it was Wallace Orton. I asked him if he was hurt, and he said he was not he thought, for he was shot in the arm. It is the greatest wonder to me that he was not killed, for there was a perfect blaze of fire at the time." (July 5 letter of Private George Robinson, Company A, 123rd New York, to his wife, Robinson Papers, New York State Library, Albany)

As the shooting rapidly diminished on Culp's Hill, some men of the 122nd and 149th New York let their guard down to meet and congratulate old acquaintances and fellow citizens from their hometown of Syracuse and surrounding communities in the county. But at least one of their opponents remained in position and alert. Capt. James E. Doran of Company K, 149th New York walked over to visit the 122nd and was badly wounded. Being informed of Doran's wounding, Lt. Col. Charles B. Randall, who then commanded the 149th, went to see him. As he stooped down, a minie ball passed through Randall's left arm, entered his side and lodged in his lung. "It was supposed at the time that his injuries were fatal, and the officers and men regretted his loss." However, Randall made a slow recovery over several months. (Memoirs of the 149th Regt. N. Y. Vol. Inft., by Capt. Geo. K. Collins)
 
I was getting ready to write in warning you about war stories originating from Rev. George Patterson of the 3rd NC Infantry when I saw that you had already caught on to a problem. Patterson was a famous raconteur and teller of tall tales, so anything originating from him needs to be checked with other sources.

He was a colorful figure, though, and was present at Gettysburg, so its worth including him some of your Gettysburg writings.
 
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It is said that where there is still life, there is still hope.

Part I

Chaplain George Patterson of the 3rd North Carolina was asked to visit the gravely wounded Colonel Risden T. Bennett of the 14th North Carolina on the night before the army retreated. Bennett had been shot on July 3. He asked the chaplain to read the burial service over him before he departed, remarking, “For I know I’m as good as dead.” Patterson readily assented, and conducted the solemn service. Bennett was placed in an ambulance for the trip home, but he eventually recovered his health. In 1886, while visiting a western town, Bennett recognized the old chaplain and extended a warm greeting. Patterson did not recognize him: “I don’t know you, sir. Who are you?” The former officer replied, “I am Colonel Bennett, of the 14th North Carolina regiment.” Patterson quickly retorted, “Now I know you are lying, for I buried him at Gettysburg.” (Greg Coco, On the Bloodstained Field, quoting from R. H. McKim, A Soldier’s Recollections.)

Captain Azor H. Nickerson of Company I, 8th Ohio, was shot through one arm and both lungs while on the skirmish line on July 2. He tried to run, but blood gushed from his mouth and he collapsed, unconscious. He came around while an ambulance attendant was bathing his face, then endured a bumpy and harrowing ride in an ambulance to a field hospital, probably at the Catherine Guinn farm on the Taneytown road. As Surgeon Henry M. McAbee looked him over, Nickerson ventured that it looked very badly for him. McAbee, who had performed hundreds of operations as chief surgeon of the division, responded, “very badly.” “You know I am not afraid to hear the worst; is there any hope for me, doctor?” “No,” said he, very kindly, patting the captain on the forehead as he looked away, “no, my boy, none whatsoever.” Nevertheless, three decades later Nickerson had the last word: “And yet poor Surgeon McAbee is many years dead, and I am still here.” (Personal Recollections of Two Visits to Gettysburg, by A. H. Nickerson, Scribner’s Magazine, New York: Charles Schribner’s Sons, July 1893)

“The Lieutenant [Samuel Judson Fletcher] was wounded at the same time I was – shot through the head. The doctor said he could not live; but when I last saw him, day before yesterday, he was looking much better, and I am confident he will, with good care, recover.” [Fletcher was shot in the jaw; he died in July 1924 at the age of 93.] (8 July 1863 letter of 1st Sergeant Edward F. Chapin, Company H, 15th Massachusetts; Busey and Busey, Union Casualties at Gettysburg, 1:193)

Orderly Sergeant James Wright of Company E, 22nd Massachusetts was shot through a lung, the ball being taken out of his back. Wright was examined repeatedly by surgeons for several days, and warned that his case was incurable. Well-meaning helpers in the hospital also told Wright (and others in similar condition) that he should prepare for death. But Wright refused to give up. Finally a brigade surgeon of the regular army after a careful inspection said: “I believe that as you have lived ten days you will recover.” Wright replied, “You are the first surgeon who has understood my case.” [Wright rejoined his regiment in October, although he could no longer stand the exposure and was sent home.] (Musket and Sword, by Edwin C. Bennett, Boston: Coburn Publishing Co., 1900, p. 144)

Private Joseph Irwin of Company B, 29th Pennsylvania was shot at close range while the regiment was returning to its supposedly unoccupied breastworks on Culp’s Hill after dark on July 2. A minie ball entered his back above the hips, grazed the spine, passed through the stomach and lodged under the skin about two inches above the navel. His comrades carried him off in a blanket, then he endured a tortuous jolting ride in an ambulance to the field hospital, where the regiment’s doctor intimated that his case was hopeless. Irwin was given morphine to sleep, but it had no effect and he suffered all night in great pain. On July 3, Irwin coaxed a surgeon into removing the ball, which afforded him much relief. His condition slowly but steadily improved. Irwin was later moved to Camp Letterman, then to Satterlee hospital in Philadelphia. He was discharged for disability on May 15, 1865. (Letters of Joseph Irwin; Busey and Busey, Union Casualties at Gettysburg, 2:801)
Thank you for posting! Risden T. Bennett was an extended family member of my ggf. I did not realize he was severely wounded 3 July 1863.
 
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