"
It was sunrise when I again emerged from Ward No. 9. Hastening to my
room, I quickly bathed and redressed, returning to my office in half
an hour, refreshed and ready for duty.
The necessity for breakfast sufficient to feed the hungry patients
recalled to me the improvidence of my action in giving away so much
bread the night before. It had gone a very little way toward supplying
the needs of so large a body of soldiers, and now my own needed it.
There was no quartermaster, no one to issue fresh rations. Again I had
the cows milked, gathered up all the corn-bread that was left, with
some hard-tack, and with the aid of the few decrepit nurses before
mentioned made a fire, and warmed up the soup and soup-meat which had
been prepared for the convalescent table the day before, but was not
consumed. My patients, comprehending the situation, made the best of
it. But the distribution was a tedious business, as many of the
patients had to be fed by myself.
I had hardly begun when some of the men declared they "heard guns." I
could not then detect the sound, but soon it grew louder and more
sustained, and then we _knew_ a battle was in progress.
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