Poeten Walt Whitman (1819-1892) arbetade ett tag som sjukvårdare under det amerikanska inbördeskriget. Efteråt skrev han ner sina minnen i form av en diktsamling "Drumtaps"- här ett utdrag ur dikten "A March in the Ranks".
-

Surgeons operating, attendants holding lights, the smell of ether,

the odor of blood;

The crowd,

O the crowd of the bloody forms of soldiers--

the yard outside also fill'd;

Some on the bare ground,

some on planks or stretchers, some in the

death-spasm sweating;

An occasional scream or cry,

the doctor's shouted orders or calls;

The glisten of the little steel instruments

catching the glint of the torches;These I resume as I chant--

I see again the forms, I smell the odor;

Then hear outside the orders given,

Fall in, my men, Fall in;

But first I bend to the dying lad--his eyes open--a half-smile gives he me;

Then the eyes close, calmly close, and I speed forth to the darkness,

Resuming, marching, ever in darkness marching,

on in the ranks,

The unknown road still marching.

-