Echoes of Dark and Light (14 page)

As the hour approached eleven a.m., the army finally stopped for a rare and much needed rest. As I returned from visiting a secluded friendly tree, I found rumors spreading faster than a rain swollen creek. Lieutenant General Longstreet’s forces had closed in faster than originally thought, racing towards Knoxville on a northbound road named Concord, a road that intersected with the very road we currently marched on, up ahead at a place called Campbell’s Station. The word going around expressed doubt at reaching Knoxville without a battle. Toby and I exchanged looks. Worry shadowed his eyes.

At the news, my heart picked up its pace.
My first battle!
The thought met with hesitation, anticipation and fear. I had no doubts whatsoever in my own abilities; I knew my aim proved straight and true and my instincts had saved my skin more times than I could count. But as much confidence as I had in myself, I also knew the Rebels had excellent shots, as well. And I would be on the receiving end of their rifles. And so would my new friends.

Before I could contemplate it further, orders to line up passed down through the troops. The pace set now surpassed the one before, if possible. My pack had rubbed a spot raw on my shoulder, and it burned down into my muscles with each jarring step. But I tried to focus my mind on the crossroads ahead.
Which army would arrive first?

The noonday sun hid behind thick gray, rain-filled clouds, as if frightened of the upcoming battle. Through sheer determination, or just plain luck, we reached Campbell’s Station first. The army then burst into a different kind of action, men hurrying in all directions. It appeared to be total chaos, but in reality, every action had been planned and drilled into each soldier. Each soldier, except me. With only one day of drills under my belt, confusion and disorientation spun around in my mind. I turned to Toby for guidance.

But before I could say anything, a horse and rider galloped up, sliding to a halt in the muddy road.

“Captain Truckey!” I quickly saluted.

“Men,” he nodded to us. “Good work. Remember to keep your eyes open and your heads down. Private Rivers, you’re to report to the hospital station immediately.”

He started to move away, but I reached out for the horse’s bridle to stop him. “What? What did you say?” I quickly added, “Sir?”

He gave me a look of impatience, but he spoke with an even voice. “I said, you’re to report to the hospital tent. They are setting up in the clearing about a quarter mile back. You will assist in whatever they need. Report in to Doctor Davis.”

“But sir, I don’t understand. I’m a soldier; I’m here to fight for my country.”

“Private, I gave you a direct order. Are you refusing?”

I faltered. “No, um, of course not. I just don’t understand.” I looked to Toby for help, but he shrugged, as confused as me. I turned back to the captain.

He glanced at a pocket watch before replying. “Private, I have sent far too many green soldiers into battle, under prepared and under trained. And far too many have died. I will not do that again, if at all possible. You require further training before facing the Rebels. Today you shall assist in the hospital tent. Don’t worry; you’ll soon get a taste of the front line.”

I slowly nodded, remembering belatedly to salute at his retreating back.

I shrugged helplessly at Toby, and he gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Captain Truckey generally knows what he’s talking about.”

“And even if he didn’t,” I added, “I received a direct order, like it or not. I guess I’ll see you later?” My words inadvertently came out more as a question than as a statement.

“God willing,” he murmured.

“God willing,” I whispered.

I felt I was literally and figuratively turning my back on the Army of the Ohio as I made my way down the road towards the hospital tent. I received a couple of curious glances, but most men had enough to do without paying me any mind.

Then I heard a thundering commotion behind me. I jerked around to find the Rebel army approaching Campbell’s Station. So like ourselves, except that the men wore brownish-gray uniforms. Fifteen minutes. We’d beat them to the intersection by fifteen minutes. My feet begged me to run back to my unit, my heart longed to return to fight beside my fellow Union troops. But I had a darned direct order. Feeling traitorous, I continued on towards the hospital tent, walking backwards with my eyes riveted on the explosions between the North and the South. The air filled with the ear-aching blasts of thousands of rifles, and the roar of exploding cannons. My hands flew up to cover my ears as my eyes began to itch from the heavy smoke drifting over on a breeze. Then I witnessed a man fall, blood spurting dark red out of his neck. I turned and ran for the hospital tent.

Heart pounding in near panic, I stumbled into the clearing where a group of thirty or so worked in an organized frenzy to set up the mobile hospital facilities. Men yanked folded canvas tents from the wagon beds while others stacked stretchers for easy access. Two fellows brushed past me carrying a large crate between them. One tripped in his haste, dropping his hold, and the crate tipped over spilling cloth bandages and surgical equipment into the mud.

“You clumsy clod!”

“You’re the clod, idiot!”

“Doc Davis is going to kill us.”

“Us? You’re the one who dirtied his cutting tools!”

“Are you injured, soldier?”

“Huh?” I jerked around to find a young woman studying me with concerned eyes. Shocked, the words tangled on my tongue. Besides the prostitutes that followed the army, and a few of the officers’ wives, women tended to be a bit rare. This girl looked too young to be married to an officer, and judging from her clothes, she didn’t hang around as a prostitute.

She stood on tiptoe and peered into my eyes. “Did you hit your head, soldier? Can you understand me? Are you bleeding?”

I shook my head to clear out her flood of questions. “No, no I’m fine.”

She raised her blond eyebrows in doubt.

“Honest. Look, my captain told me to report to Doctor Davis. Know him?”

She nodded and motioned for me to follow her. We stepped between the two arguing orderlies and over the ruined bandages soaking up the mud. The woman pointedly tossed an order to them over her shoulder.

“Boys, get this cleaned up and then deliver a new crate of supplies to the doctors. The wounded will be arriving any minute, and we need to be ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused, immediately following her instructions.

Amazed at their obvious respect toward the young woman, I studied her a little closer. She appeared about average height, yet I had to quicken my long legs to keep up with her fast-moving shorter ones. Blonde hairs blew free of the tight bun positioned at the nape of her neck to curl lightly against her pale, oval-shaped face. Green, slightly slanted eyes, sparkled with intelligence, determination and authority. She wore a dark gray, long fitted dress covered with a white smock apron. Sturdy boots sloshed through the puddles, splashing mud onto her hem, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you have a name, soldier?”

“Yeah, I’m Bobbi, um, I mean Private Rivers, ma’am.” I’m not exactly sure why I threw in the ‘ma’am’; something about this lady just seemed to demand respect.

“My name is Nurse Davis. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended a slim hand in my direction.

Caught off guard, I clumsily shook her firm grip, tripping over a stack of stretchers and almost falling on my face. Her calloused fingers clamped down even harder, hauling me back to my feet. Her slender frame contradicted her powerful strength.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, a bit embarrassed. Then her words clicked in my head. “Davis? Are you related to Doctor Davis?”

She nodded. “He’s my father.”

Before I could ask any more questions, she ducked into a large canvas tent. I had to pause just inside to let my eyes adjust to the lower light level. And just as I began to make out the shadowed shapes, someone yanked up one entire canvas wall, blinding me with the sudden appearance of the grayish light. When I could finally see again, I noticed Nurse Davis motioning for me to join her. She had managed to grab the attention of a busy surgeon, presumably Doctor Davis.

The graying doctor fidgeted impatiently while scanning down a list on his clipboard. He cast me an irritated glace as I approached, as if resenting these precious seconds wasted before the wounded started trickling in to the tents. I quickened my step.

Nurse Davis turned to the surgeon. “Doctor Davis, this is Private Rivers. He’s here to assist.”

Doctor Davis? She calls her pa, Doctor Davis? Well, I guess that’s better than some of the things I’ve called my own pa.

“Sir,” I saluted. “Captain Truckey sent me.”

“Ah, yes, I spoke with the captain this morning and he filled me in on the situation. You can help out by assisting the nurses and the orderlies, by moving the patients in, getting them a sip of water, by bringing in fresh bandages, the like. Any questions?”

I opened my mouth to ask one, but he hurried on before I could say anything.

“Good. Nurse Davis here will get you started.” And with that he thundered off into the brewing bedlam.

I turned back to Nurse Davis expectantly, finding a hint of sadness in her eyes as she watched the surgeon hurry away from her. But when she gave her attentions to me, her eyes only held determination and self-assurance.

“So,” she began, “do you have any experience with the wounded?”

“I’ve knocked my own shoulder out of joint a couple of times. Oh, and I watched Doc back home stitch me up when a bear cub put a gash in my leg.”

Her green eyes widened slightly. “A bear?”

“Oh,” I quickly assured her, “he was just a baby, and he didn’t mean no harm, just playing with me.”

“Hm, okay, anything else? Any other experience?”

“I helped rescue a shipwrecked sailor, but as far as medically speaking, we only took off his wet clothes and warmed him. Then Doc arrived and did the rest.”

She nodded slightly, seemingly unimpressed. That irked me.

“Hey, we did a good job, you know, of rescuing that fellow! A raging storm had Lake Superior in quite a temper. My friend and I traipsed out there in a dinky little rowboat. He almost died. We almost died.”

She looked a bit surprised at my outburst, but took her time in replying. She picked up a box of morphine bottles and started for the front of the tent, speaking over her shoulder. “That was very brave of you and your friend. A lot of people wouldn’t have bothered.”

Now my mind bumbled in confusion. What had caused her to do a hundred and eighty turn from haughty indifference to cautiously complimentary in 2.3 seconds? “What’s your problem? You asked for my medical experience and I gave it to you. Why the attitude?”

She paused in the doorway and I almost ran into her. “My attitude has nothing to do with this. If I offended you in any way, I apologize. Your medical experience is a bit limited, that is all. This isn’t your fault. We’ll accept any help that’s offered.”

Feeling a bit miffed, I replied a little too sharply. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have medical training, but I didn’t sign up to be a surgeon. I signed up to be a soldier, and I’m a dang better shot than most anyone here! How’s your aim?”

She visibly stiffened at that and turned to me with her eyes blazing. “I do not shoot guns; I fix the damage they cause!”

“Oh, so just how much medical experience do you have, Nurse Davis?” I eyed her up and down; she appeared to be about my age.

She sighed wearily. “I happened to have more training than most surgeons, thanks to my father. And for you information, my reaction to your answers wasn’t criticism. I am sorry if that is how you perceived it. I was just a bit disappointed as the wounded soldiers need all of the care and comfort that we can give them.”

Oh.
Well now I felt stupid and hotheaded. Why did I always fly off with my temper at the slightest provocation, or in this case, an imagined provocation. Nurse Davis had started walking again, and I ran to catch up with her.

“I, uh, owe you an apology, ma’am. I guess I’m just a bit bent out of whack with the battle and all. It’s my first, and my captain stuck me here. A bit of an insult, if you ask me. Tell me what I can do to help.”