Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers and subsequently in the siege and capture of Vicksburg, and later in the Atlanta campaign, were our friends and neighbors; their griefs and misfortunes were ours. They rendezvoused at Cairo, and I remember vividly the delicate women who worked as did the brave women of the South, almost night and day, preparing sanitary stores which could not otherwise be obtained, and who later flocked to the hospitals all over the North and South to care for the sick, wounded, convalescent and emaciated soldiers and sailors who, as the war progressed, were being constantly sent North to be restored to health and fitness to return to the service.
It seems only yesterday that I saw dear Mother Bickerdyke carrying in her strong arms poor, sick and, perhaps dying, boys in the hospitals at Cairo. It was in the autumn of 1861, after the battle of Belmont, the first baptism of blood of the volunteers of the West. She had left her home in Galesburg, Illinois, and joined the first troops who were mobilized for the war at Cairo. She was a remarkable woman in many senses—her frame was that of iron, her nerves as steady as a sharpshooter's, her intellect as quick as an electric spark, her knowledge of human nature phenomenal, her executive ability wonderful, her endurance limitless. In all emergencies, she knew what to do, when and how to act. Her heart was full to overflowing with patriotism and loving kindness. She had the keenest possible intuitions, could detect fraud, deception, disloyalty, dishonesty and hyprocrisy quicker than an expert detective. She was a law unto herself in supporting the cause in which she was enlisted. Neither the general commanding nor any subordinate officer in any way interfered with her. A surgeon whom she had once detected in some questionable conduct appealed to General Sherman. The sturdy old soldier replied: "My God, man, Mother Bickerdyke outranks everybody, even Lincoln. If you have run amuck of her I advise you to get out quickly before she has you under arrest."
