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 26 Closing on the Prize T h e F a l l a n d O cc u p a t ion o f A t l a n t a , J u l y – N ov e mb e r 1 8 6 4 The Diarist Returns Nathan Parmater had been left with the sick on the final approach to Dug Gap and was sent back up the line to Division Hospital no. 8, in Chattanooga, where he was put in a tent with four other boys. The same illness that had hit him on the march to Fredericksburg, back in 1862, was upon him again. The doctors dosed him with camphor, opium pills, whiskey, and quinine, but after taking the medicine he did not feel any better, and sometimes felt worse. Some days the most he could manage was a walk to the end of the tent to take a look at Lookout Mountain.1 His regiment had marched far from the neighborhood where he’d last seen them, but he was still able to get some news of their travels. A soldier of Company C was in a nearby tent recovering from the amputation of his arm at Dug Gap, and from him Parmater got some particulars of the disaster he had missed by an eyelash. Over time, more wounded and sick from his regiment sifted back from the front into the Chattanooga hospitals, including his best friend, Chum Sterrett. Life in a division hospital was dull but not unpleasant. The new recruits who had become patients complained about the food, but to veteran soldiers like Parmater, hospital rations were “First Best.” There was plenty of soft bread, soups, fresh peas, and even lemonade once a day, and if they lacked anything, a lady from the U.S. Christian Commission visited every day with the promise that she would scour the local markets and bring it to them. The Christian Commission conducted religious service every evening and twice on Sundays, which to the soldiers were as much entertainment as they were spiritual lessons. Saturday was the assigned day for changing clothes, which was easy enough to do, since the only item they had to change was their shirts. The hospital was short on socks and drawers and the boys went without. The long white shirts given to Parmater made a welcome connection with home. They were stamped “Northern Ohio,” proving that the work of girls and women back home was reaching their soldiers. It was hard to keep one’s spirits aloft with from eight to fourteen boys dying every day in this hospital. Three of the five boys in Parmater’s tent died. One soldier in his tent whom Parm liked especially , a boy called Sparks, had died so quietly during the night that Parmater was hardly disturbed by it. In early July, Parmater was judged well enough to tolerate the railroad trip to a larger hospital in Nashville. The cars that carried Parm and the others had built-in bunk beds, and each car had a water cooler and attendant. Although the ride was rough, and the stopping frequent due to breaks in the line, 340 Closing on the Prize it was altogether superior to lying on a rough floor covered with straw and manure, which was the way the sick and wounded had ridden to the hospital centers not all that long ago. Parmater was put in Cumberland Hospital in Nashville, which was a city unto itself with accommodations for three thousand sick and wounded. His ward consisted of two hospital tents stretched over wooden frames and joined at the ends. Each patient had an iron cot and ample white bedding. The walls were decorated with scalloped paper, and the pine plank floors were swept and scrubbed every day. Parmater found conditions here better than at Chattanooga, but the monotony identical. Anticipation of the next meal was all the soldiers had to look forward to. Adjoining each ward was a framed cookhouse, and for those who could walk to it, there were tables set with white crockery plates and mugs. Boys capable of a longer walk visited the city’s markets and brought back cucumbers, tomatoes, and peaches. The mainstay of their diet, here as in the field, was the same old boiled beef and army beans. It took as little as the gift of a genuine Illinois apple to brighten one of Parmater’s days here. The soldier-patients got their pay even...

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