Civil War on Sunday (5 page)

She gave the cloths to Jack and Annie.

Then she went to the front of the wagon and climbed in. The wagon started forward.

Jack and Annie gently patted the soldiers’ faces with the damp cloths. Jack looked at the young men lying side by side. The two seemed far more alike than different.

In another time and place, they might have been friends
, Jack thought.

Finally, the wagon arrived at the field hospital. The Confederate soldier was put on a stretcher and carried to a tent.

Two soldiers wearing bandages put the drummer boy on a stretcher.

“Could you stay with John awhile?” Clara Barton asked Jack and Annie.

“Sure,” said Jack.

“Try to bring down his fever,” Clara said. “A nurse will give you ice packs to press against his skin. Find me when his fever is lower.”

The drummer boy was carried into an empty tent. Jack and Annie followed.

John was put on a cot. Then a nurse brought some rags and a bucket filled with ice. Jack and Annie were left alone with the boy.

Jack wrapped some ice in a rag. He pressed the ice pack against the boy’s head and neck and arms. Annie fanned the air to cool John off and to keep away the flies.

Jack felt so hot he pressed an ice pack against his own face for a moment. Then he looked up
drummer
boys
in his Civil War book. He read:

“Wow,” said Jack. He closed the book, pulled out his notebook, and wrote:

Suddenly, John shouted. Jack looked up from his notebook. The drummer boy was still asleep, but he was waving his arms as if he were having a nightmare.

Annie shook the boy’s arm.

“Wake up, John,” she said. “You’re okay. Wake up.”

The drummer boy opened his eyes.

“You were having a bad dream,” said Annie. “You’re safe now. You’ll see your family again soon.”

“No! No!” the boy said. He sounded frantic. “I have to go back to the battlefield.”

“No, you don’t have to fight anymore,” said Annie. “You can go home and be safe.”

“No!” the boy said. “They need me! They need my drum!” He sounded more and more upset.

Jack thought about their list.

Put aside your own feelings,
he remembered.

“Okay, John,” said Jack. “You can go back as soon as you feel better.”

“Jack!” said Annie. “He’ll get hurt or killed! I’m afraid for him!”

“Me too,” Jack said softly. “But we have to put our own feelings aside. That’s one of the things on our list.”

Annie sighed.

“Okay,” she said sadly. She looked at John. “If you want to fight again in the Civil War, you can. If that’s what you really want.”

“Thank you,” the boy whispered.

“You know, you’re the bravest kid I’ve ever met,” Jack said.

The drummer boy smiled at Jack.

“You look just like my little brother,” he said hoarsely.

“You look just like my
big
brother,” said Jack, “except I don’t have a big brother. I don’t have any brothers.”

The three of them laughed. The drummer boy’s laugh was very soft.

The boy laid his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes again.

In a moment, he was sleeping peacefully. A smile was on his lips.

Annie felt his forehead.

“His fever’s gone down,” she said. “We should go tell Clara.”

Annie left the tent.

Jack got up and slowly followed her.

When he reached the entrance of the tent, he turned and looked back. The shadows of twilight fell across the boy’s calm, sleeping face.

It was strange. Jack hardly knew the drummer boy. But he felt they
could
be brothers.

Listening to the cannon fire in the distance, Jack was afraid for the boy.

Will he live to see his family again?
Jack wondered.

“Good luck, John,” Jack said softly.

With a heavy heart, Jack stepped out into the warm evening air.

“Annie?” said Jack.

“Over here!” she called.

Jack saw two figures standing in the twilight.

He walked over to Annie and Clara. They all stared in the direction of the distant battlefield.

Bright lights flashed against the dark blue horizon—cannon shells exploding.

“Every time you see a flash, you know a shell may have taken a life or many lives,” said Clara.

“That’s awful,” said Annie.

“Yes, it is,” said Clara. “A whole world can vanish in that flash—all a young man’s joys and sorrows, all his memories.”

“This
is
a cruel war!” said Annie.

“All wars are cruel,” said Clara Barton. “People feel they must fight for causes they believe in. But they soon discover that war is not about glory and fame. It’s about misery and terrible pain and sadness.”

“It makes me miss my mom and dad,” said Annie. “It makes me
really
miss them.”

Annie sounded tired and homesick. Finally, she had lost her cheerfulness.

“I think it’s time for you two to go home,” said Clara.

Jack thought of all the wounded men who needed food and water and kindness and comfort.

“No!” Jack said. “We have to stay. We can’t give up. That’s on the list—
Don’t give up
.”

Jack pulled out their list to show Clara Barton.

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding. “I see one of my nurses has written down the things I often say. Let me add one thing more—
Do not forget the ones who love you
.”

Jack heaved a big sigh. He was homesick, too.

“Can we keep the list?” he asked.

“Of course,” said Clara. “You don’t have to work in a hospital to follow my words. They work in all of life no matter where you go.”

“Thanks,” said Jack.

“My thanks to both of you,” said Clara Barton. “You were great helpers.”

“You were a great teacher,” said Annie.

“Good-bye,” said Clara Barton. “Be very careful going home.”

“We will,” said Jack and Annie. “Bye.”

The sun was setting as they walked out of the camp. The boom of cannons sounded in the distance.

Soldiers sang a song around a campfire.

       We’re tenting tonight

              on the old camp ground;

       Give us a song to cheer

       Our weary hearts,

              a song of home,

       And friends we love so dear.

Jack and Annie walked through the darkening field. By the time they reached the woods, the stars were out.

They climbed up the rope ladder to the tree house. Annie grabbed the Pennsylvania book.

“Wait,” said Jack.

He looked out the window. He couldn’t see anything below. But the soldiers’ song still carried through the warm, starry night.

       Many are the hearts

              that are weary tonight,

       Wishing for the war to cease … 

As Jack listened, he thought of Clara Barton, the elderly slave, the young Confederate soldier, and John, the drummer boy … 

“War is not a game,” Jack said softly. “It is definitely not a game.”

       Many are the hearts

              looking for the right

       To see the dawn of peace.

The song ended. The cannon fire stopped. The night was quiet, except for the croaking of frogs.

“Ready?” Annie whispered.

“Ready,” said Jack.

“I
really
wish we could go home,” Annie said, pointing to the picture of the Frog Creek woods.

The wind started to blow.

The tree house started to spin.

It spun faster and faster.

Then everything was still.

Absolutely still.

There was a booming in the distance.

Jack opened his eyes and caught his breath.
Is that cannon fire?
he wondered.
Are we still back in the Civil War?

“We’re home,” said Annie. “Home, sweet home.”

“Oh, man,” Jack whispered.

They
were
home. They were back in the Frog Creek woods. They were wearing their own comfortable clothes again.

The cannon fire was really only thunder. At that moment, Jack loved the thunder.

Raindrops tapped against the tree house.

“We better hurry,” said Jack.

“Wait. Leave the list in the tree house,” said Annie. “It’s the first special writing for Morgan’s library.
Something to follow
.”

Jack took the list of Clara Barton’s rules out of his pack. He put it on the floor next to Morgan’s letter.

“I wonder how that list will help save Camelot?” he said.

“I don’t know,” said Annie. “But you know what’s weird about getting that list? I think we couldn’t just have taken it home when we first got it. We had to
live
it first.”

Jack nodded. Annie was completely right, he thought. He picked up his backpack.