The Door That Nobody Else

What Armies And How Much Of War I Have Seen, What Thousands Of Marching Troops, What Fields Of Slain, What Prisons, What Hospitals, What Ruins, What Cities In Ashes, What Hunger And Nakedness, What Orphanages, What Widowhood, What Wrongs And What Vengeance.

I Have Never Worked For Fame Or Praise, And Shall Not Feel Their Loss As I Otherwise Would. I Have Never For A Moment Lost Sight Of The Humble Life I Was Born To, Its Small Environments, And The Consequently Little Right I Had To Expect Much Of Myself, And Shall Have The Less To Censure, Or Upbraid Myself With For The Failures I Must See Myself Make.

My Business Is Stanching Blood And Feeding Fainting Men; My Post The Open Field Between The Bullet And The Hospital. I Sometimes Discuss The Application Of A Compress Or A Wisp Of Hay Under A Broken Limb, But Not The Bearing And Merits Of A Political Movement. I Make Gruel--not Speeches; I Write Letters Home For Wounded Soldiers, Not Political Addresses.

This Conflict Is One Thing I've Been Waiting For. I'm Well And Strong And Young - Young Enough To Go To The Front. If I Can't Be A Soldier, I'll Help Soldiers.

What Could I Do But Go With Them Civil War Soldiers, Or Work For Them And My Country? The Patriot Blood Of My Father Was Warm In My Veins.