Birth: August 17, 1825.
Death: August 19, 1864.
Wife: Effie Cooper Fisk.
Children: Florence A., Effie F., Charles W., Maria L., John B. Fisk.
Note. There should be one more child, but couldn't find.
Burial: 100F Cemetery, Indianola, Warren County, Iowa.
On the 17th day_ of August, while in the rear of two lines of fortifications, (which had been occupied on the 1st of August.) at what was thought to be a fitting place p;for his primary hospital, he was shot in the afternoon at 3 o'clock, the ball entering through his left shoulder, passing through the sixth rib, and lodging in the sacrum. Medical assistance was of no avail, and he died on the 10th. No better man, nor one who attended his duties more conscientiously, can be found in the list of the officers of the army.
I went to him at once, and found him in an arbor of green boughs,put up just in the rear of our breast-works. He was lying on a little bunk made of poles and covered with cotton he had gathered in the neighborhood. He told me of his poor health, and wanted me to assist about the leave of absence. I persuaded him to wait for a few days, as such an application was regarded with great disfavor except in extreme cases.
While sitting in his chair by his bedside, I noticed bullets from the rebel lines were dropping very close to me, one passing just over my head, another about two feet to my right and striking the ground about ten feet in advance of me, then another to the left. At the time I thought but little of it, supposing them to be random bullets.
After we had talked possibly fifteen minutes, Dr. Fisk being in a much more cheerful mood, I got on my horse and rode back to the hospital, a distance of half a mile. I had just arrived and dismounted when an orderly came in great haste, saying Dr. Fisk had been shot directly after I left him.
I returned to him immediately, and found he had been shot in the back near the left shoulder blade, the ball ranging down ward. He was much shocked and already considerably weakened by internal hemorrhage. I took him to the hospital and gave him every care and attention, and the next day took him to the general hospital at Marietta. He seemed to bear the ride well, and I began to hope his wound might not be fatal. But still he had that peculiar numbness of the feet which indicated a serious spinal lesion.
About 9 o'clock I left him for a few minutes, hoping he might go to sleep. When I went back he was still awake. I gave him a small dose of morphine, adjusted his pillow, and asked him if he thought he could take a nap. He replied in his humorous way that he thought he could "make an average crop of it." The next instant he was dead, and the world had lost one of its best and truest men.