"Well, I've enlisted!" This is how the fact of my becoming a Union army nurse was put to my family. It was followed by an impressive silence - finally broken by congratulations all around.

Soon I arrived in Washington, full of high thoughts and heroic purposes. 'To do or die,' I told myself. 'Perhaps both!'

I was referred to the Governor at the State House to acquire a pass. Now, I am a bashful individual - though I can't get anyone to believe it - so I will tell you I struggled through that place, getting all the wrong rooms and none of the right. Finally I cornered a fellow and proceeded with my questions:

Was the Governor anywhere about?

No, he wasn't.

Could he tell me where to look?

No, he couldn't.

Did he know anything about free passes?

No, he didn't.

Was there anyone there of whom I could inquire?

Not a person.

Did he know where the information could be obtained?

Not a place.

Could he throw the smallest gleam of light upon the matter, in any way?

Not a ray.

If I could have taken him and shaken this gentleman vigorously, the relief would have been immense!

Just then the head of the nursing staff appeared - my General - and at her command, the fellow troubled himself to remember a Major or Sergeant or something who knew all about the passes!

Now, I would like to say this was the end of my troubles, but it would not be true. Rather, I employ this sordid tale as but an illustration, a sample, a tasting (with rising irritation), the tip of the sharpened iceberg, the tooth of the carnivorous shark, the first cough of the curse of consumption (losing her steam). Ah, but perhaps this last was a poor example.

My first three days experience as a nurse began with a soldier's death and a somewhat abrupt plunge into superintendence of forty beds, where I washed faces, served rations, gave medicine and sat - on a very hard chair. Pneumonia to one side of me; diptheria on the other. Two with typhoid opposite and a dozen dilapidated patriots hopping, lying, and lounging about.

Then came the first forty of those wounded at the Battle of Fredericksburg - along with the vilest odors to ever assault the human nose. All was hurry and confusion. I confess at that moment to having indulged in a most unpatriotic wish to be safe at home again.

But here were our brave boys: legless, armless, desperately wounded men. No cowards could have been so riddled with shot and shell, so torn and shattered - nor could cowards have borne the suffering for which we have no name.

As I stood by, I told myself this thing: that I was not there to wonder or to weep. I was there to work, so I corked up all doubts and feelings.

Into my hands came a basin, sponge, towels and a block of brown soap, along with the appalling order to strip, wash and re-dress each of the gentlemen as fast as I could so the attendants could begin their work.

I clutched my soap manfully, and, assuming a business-like air, made a dab at the first dirty specimen I saw, chancing to light on a weathered old Irishman. When I knelt down to take off his shoes, he wouldn't hear of my touching the (in brogue) "dirty creaters - (motioning removal of a shoe) Whoosh! There ye are miss, and bedad, it's hard tellin' which is the dirtiest, the fut or the shoo." (laughing) And so it was hard tellin'.

Thus I spent my day (slowly, as she remembers each) with a young man suffering a gunshot wound through the cheek, another with one leg gone and the right arm so shattered I knew it would soon follow. Then another with an arm gone who purposed to warn me off the Confederate soldier lying nearby. Rather than lecture him on ethics, I ignored him and went on to the soldier in question. Well, the rebel shooed me off himself. 'Here's your Southern chivalry,' thought I.

Then at supper - (long pause, trying to control feelings as she remembers) I saw one fellow leave his meal untouched. He told me, "Thank you, ma'am, but I don't think I'll ever eat again, for I'm shot in the stomach. But I'd like a drink of water, if you ain't too busy." Well, I was, and it was a while before I could make my way back with a mug full.

He seemed asleep, but something in the tired, white face caused me to listen at his lips for a breath. None came. A while later, I was shocked to see they'd cleaned his bed. He was gone. It seemed to me a cruel joke he should simply disappear. Vanish - as though his life had meant so little - a drop in that red sea of- (pausing to control herself again).

By twelve that night, our last labor of love was done and we nurses quitted the sphere. Night and Nature took our places, filling that great house of pain with the healing miracles of sleep and death.

And when I was finally alone with my thoughts, I thought back on my hasty enlistment, my thought of lofty purposes - my promise to do or to die, perhaps both!

Well. (long pause) I had done both that day.

Please note: Although I have edited the text and added the last two lines in the interest of the monologue format, the vast majority of the above is taken directly from Louisa May Alcott's Hospital Sketches (a public domain property), so no permission is needed to reproduce or use the above material.