No thorough previous preparation, no system, no
foresight, no genius. Always plenty of stores, no doubt, but never
where they are needed, and never the proper application. Of all
harrowing experiences, none is greater than that of the days following
a heavy battle. Scores, hundreds of the noblest men on earth,
uncomplaining, lie helpless, mangled, faint, alone, and so bleed to
death, or die from exhaustion, either actually untouch'd at all, or
merely the laying of them down and leaving them, when there ought to
be means provided to save them.
THE BLUE EVERYWHERE
This city, its suburbs, the capitol, the front of the White House, the
places of amusement, the Avenue, and all the main streets, swarm with
soldiers this winter, more than ever before. Some are out from the
hospitals, some from the neighboring camps, &c. One source or another,
they pour plenteously, and make, I should say, the mark'd feature in
the human movement and costume-appearance of our national city. Their
blue pants and overcoats are everywhere. The clump of crutches
is heard up the stairs of the paymasters' offices, and there are
characteristic groups around the doors of the same, often waiting long
and wearily in the cold. Toward the latter part of the afternoon, you
see the furlough'd men, sometimes singly, sometimes in small squads,
making their way to the Baltimore depot. At all times, except early
in the morning, the patrol detachments are moving around, especially
during the earlier hours of evening, examining passes, and arresting
all soldiers without them.
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