A true account about "Charlie Coulson - The Christian Drummer Boy" taken from
an old, out of print book called "Touching Incidents and Remarkable Answers to

I was a surgeon in the United States Army during the Civil War. After the
battle of Gettysburg, there were hundreds of wounded soldiers in my hospital.
Many were wounded so severely that a leg or an arm, or sometimes both, needed
to be amputated.

One of these was a boy who had been in the service for only three months.
Since he was too young to be a soldier, he had enlisted as a drummer. When my
assistants came to give him Chloroform before the amputation, he turned his
head and refused it. When they told him that it was the doctor's orders, he
said, "Send the doctor to me." I came to his bedside and said, "Young man, why
do you refuse the chloroform? When I picked you up on the battlefield, you
were so far gone that I almost didn't bother to pick you up. But when you
opened those large blue eyes, it occurred to me that you had a mother
somewhere who might be thinking of you that very moment. I didn't want you to
die on the field, so I had you brought here. But you' ve lost so much blood
that you're just too weak to live through an operation without chloroform.
You'd better let me give you some."

He laid his hand on mine, looked at me in the face and said, "Doctor, one
Sunday afternoon, when I was nine and a half years old, I gave my life to
Christ. I learned to trust Him then. I know I can trust Him now. He is my
strength. He will support me while you amputate my arm and leg." I asked him
if he would at least let me give him a little brandy.

Again he looked at me and said, "Doctor, when I was about 5-years-old, my
mother knelt by my side with her arms around me and said, 'Charlie, I am
praying to Jesus that you will never take even one drink of alcohol. Your
father died a drunkard, and I've asked God to use you to warn people against
the dangers of drinking, and to encourage them to love and serve the Lord.' I
am now 17-years-old, and I have never had anything stronger than tea or
coffee. There is a very good chance that I am about to die and go into the
presence of my God. Would you send me there with brandy on my breath?"

I will never forget the look that boy gave me. At that time I hated Jesus, but
I respected that boy's loyalty to His Savior. And when I saw how he loved and
trusted Him to the very end, something deeply touched my heart. I did for that
boy what I had never done for any other soldier. I asked him if he wanted to
see his chaplain.

Chaplain R. knew the boy well from having seen him often at the tent prayer
meetings. Taking his hand he said," Charlie, I am sorry to see you like this."
"Oh, I am all right, sir," answered Charlie. "The doctor offered me
chloroform, but I told him I didn't want any. Then he wanted to give me
brandy, which I didn't want either. So now, if my Savior calls me I can go to
Him in my right mind."

"You must not die, Charlie," said the chaplain, "but if the Lord does call you
home, is there anything I can do for you after you're gone?" "Chaplain, please
reach under my pillow and take my little Bible. My mother's address is inside.
Please send it to her and write a letter for me. Tell her that since I left
home I have never let a single day pass, no matter if we were on the march, on
the battlefield, or in the hospital, without reading a portion of God's word,
and daily praying that He would bless her."

"Is there anything else I can do for you, my lad?" asked the chaplain. "Yes.
Please write a letter to the Sunday School teacher of the Sands Street Church
in Brooklyn, New York. Tell him that I've never forgotten his encouragement,
good advice, and many prayers for me. They have helped me and comforted me
through all the dangers of battle. And now, in my dying hour, I thank the Lord
for my dear old teacher, and ask Him to bless and strengthen him. That is

Then turning to me, he said, "I'm ready, doctor. I promise I won't even groan
while you take off my arm and leg, if you don't offer me chloroform." I
promised, but I didn't have the courage to take knife in my hand without first
going into the next room and taking a little brandy myself.

While cutting through the flesh, Charlie Coulson never groaned. But when I
took the saw to separate the bone, the lad took the corner of his pillow in
his mouth and all I could hear him whisper was, "O Jesus, blessed Jesus! Stand
by me now." He kept his promise. He never groaned.

I couldn't sleep that night. Whichever way I tossed and turned I saw those
soft blue eyes. The words, "Blessed Jesus. Stand by me now" kept ringing in my
ears. A little after midnight, I finally left my bed and visited the hospital
- something I had never done before unless there was an emergency. I had such
a strange and strong desire to see that boy. When I got there, an orderly told
me that 16 of the badly wounded soldiers had died. "Was Charlie Coulson one of
them?" I asked. "No,sir," he answered. "He's sleeping as sweet as a babe."

When I came to his bed, one of the nurses said, "at about 9 o'clock two
members of the YMCA came through the hospital to sing a hymn. Chaplain R. was
with them. He knelt by Charlie's bed and offered a fervent and soul-stirring
prayer. Then, while still on their knees, they sang one of the sweetest of all
hymns, 'Jesus, Lover Of My Soul.' Charlie sang along with them, too. I
couldn't understand how that boy, who was in such horrible pain, could sing."

Five days after I performed the operation, Charlie sent for me, and it was
from him that I heard my first Gospel sermon. "Doctor," he said,"my time has
come. I don't expect to see another sunrise. I want to thank you with all my
heart for your kindness to me. I know you are Jewish, and that you do not
believe in Jesus, but I want you to stay and see me die trusting my Savior to
the last moment of my life." I tried to stay, but I just couldn't. I didn't
have the courage to stand by and see a Christian boy die rejoicing in the love
of that Jesus who I hated. So I hurriedly left the room.

About 20 minutes later, an orderly came and found me sitting in my office with
my hands covering my face. He told me that Charlie wanted to see me. "I've
just seen him," I answered, "and I can't see him again." "But Doctor, he says
he must see you once more before he dies." So I made up my mind to go and see
Charlie, say an endearing word and let him die. However, I was determined that
nothing he could say would influence me in the least bit, so far as his Jesus
was concerned.

When I entered the hospital I saw he was sinking fast, so I sat down by his
bed. Asking me to take his hand, he said, "Doctor, I love you because you are
a Jew. The best friend I've found in the world was a Jew." I asked him who
that was, and he answered, "Jesus Christ, and I want to introduce you to Him
before I die. Will you promise me, doctor that what I am about to say to you,
you will never forget?" I promised, and he said, "5 days ago, while you
amputated my arm and leg, I prayed to the Lord Jesus Christ and asked Him to
make His love known to you."

Those words went deep in my heart. I couldn't understand how, when I was
causing him the most intense pain, he could forget about himself and think of
nothing but the Savior and my unconverted soul. All I could say to him was,
"Well, my dear boy, you'll soon be all right." With these words I left him,
and 12 minutes later he fell asleep safe in the arms of his Savior.

Hundreds of soldiers died in my hospital during the war, but I only followed
one to the grave, and that was Charlie Coulson. I rode 3 miles to see him
buried. I had him dressed in a new uniform, and placed in an officer's coffin,
with a United States flag over it.

That boy's dying words made a deep impression on me. I was rich at that time
so far as money was concerned, but I would have given every penny I possessed
if I could have felt towards Christ as Charlie did. But that feeling cannot be
bought with money. Alas, I soon forgot all about my Christian soldier's little
sermon, but I could not forget the boy himself. Looking back, I now know I was
under deep conviction of sin at that time. But for nearly 10 years I remained
unrepentant, until finally the dear boy's prayer was answered, and I
surrendered my life to the love of Jesus.

About a year and a half after my conversion, I went to a prayer meeting one
evening in Brooklyn. It was one of those meetings where Christians testify
about the lovingkindness of God.

After several had spoken, an elderly lady stood up and said, "Dear friends,
this may be the last time I have a chance to publicly share how good the Lord
has been to me. My doctor told me yesterday that my right lung is nearly gone
and my left lung is failing fast, so at the best I only have a short time to
be with you. But what is left of me belongs to Jesus. It's a great joy to know
that I shall soon meet my son with Jesus in heaven."

"Charlie was not only a soldier for his country, but also a soldier for
Christ. He was wounded at the battle of Gettysburg, and was cared for by a
Jewish doctor who amputated his arm and leg. He died 5 days after the
operation. The chaplain of the regiment wrote me a letter and sent me my boy's
Bible. I was told that in his dying hour my Charlie sent for that Jewish
doctor and said to him, "5 days ago while you amputated my arm and leg I
prayed to the Lord Jesus Christ for you."

As I heard this lady speak, I just couldn't sit still! I left my seat, ran
across the room and taking her hand I said, "God bless you, my dear sister.
Your boy's prayer has been heard and answered! I am the Jewish doctor that
Charlie prayed for, and his Savior is now my Savior! The love of Jesus has won
my soul!"

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