Echoes of Dark and Light (31 page)

The afternoon dragged on, a torturous wait for both sides, yet an excruciating one for the men left alive and wounded on the battlefield. Thirsty, bleeding and in horrific pain, they cried out for help. But we couldn’t do a single thing. Something to do with battle negotiations between the two sides, or something equally ridiculous. We had strict orders to remain entrenched, helpless to rescue our wounded soldiers. And somewhere out there amongst the thousands of dead and wounded lay Kenny. I felt so utterly useless and smothered by guilt. We could save so many, but instead were forced to hunker down and listen to their moans and cries for help.
Had Robert lain on a battlefield like that? Suffering? Alone?

In the late afternoon, Preacher returned leading a green-tinted Woody, his arm bandaged with a crude and clumsy wrap. The medics had been so swamped, Preacher had finally done the job himself. They settled down next to us in the trenches.

As dusk started to fall, Woody finally clamped his hands over his ears, unable to stand the wounded cries any further. Tears pooled in his bloodshot eyes and he turned to me imploring, “Why Bobbi? Why?”

Enough! I had to do something, save at least one, no matter the consequences. I tossed my rifle aside and stood, creeping up to the edge of our entrenchment.

“What are you doing?” Preacher asked, suspicion clouding his voice.

His question invited every private in the vicinity to look at me. I ignored them. Peering out over the field, I searched through the collecting shadows for a likely target. With the gathering darkness and unexpected maneuver on my part, most likely the Rebels wouldn’t be able to fire a mortal shot. Though what my own officers would do to me for breaking orders, I could only guess. But if I could save just one life, the risk would be worth almost any punishment.

“Bobbi, no!”

Toby’s voice, unheard for days, grabbed at my heart, but I pushed off anyway and darted out into the desecration.

“Private, return at once!” An unfamiliar officer’s voice bellowed above the agitated chatter that broke out in the trenches.

I ignored him, sprinting out into the battlefield. Surprise being my main attribute, I had to get as far as I could before the Rebels noticed and started aiming their guns.

I reached the nearest of the fallen soldiers, and began desperately scanning for one still alive. But before I got very far, a tremendous force tackled me from behind, knocking me hard to the ground just as a volley of musket balls flew overhead.

“Are you trying to get killed?” Toby demanded.

I had a mouthful of words I wanted to spit back at him, but the tackle had knocked the air from my lungs and I gasped for a breath.

“Haven’t enough people died today? Did you want to add yourself to the list? Getting killed won’t help anyone, especially your brother! Answer me, Rivers!”

Finally, my lungs opened up and I greedily sucked in air. When I could, I turned my head and grumbled, “I might be able to if you got off of me, you big oaf!”

He rolled to the side, and my breathing instantly got easier.

“Now explain yourself, Rivers! Do you have a death wish?”

“Why do you care?” I spit. “I thought you hated me.”

He stared at me, mouth poised but no words releasing.

I jumped back in before he’d say something I’d regret hearing. “It doesn’t matter. I just couldn’t stand back there and do nothing! I had to save—” I broke off, my throat clenching tight. “Kenny?”

Three feet behind Toby, a dirty red scarf caught my eye. We scrambled over the bodies to get a closer look.
Kenny.
But I almost didn’t recognize his face, blown away and bloodied, almost as red as the scarf his pen pal had sent him.

“Oh, Kenny,” I choked on the words as tears filled my eyes.

Toby checked his neck for a pulse even though Kenny had obviously died. Toby shook his head, fighting the sorrow that threatened to swallow him. But he forced it away, along with the tears in his own eyes.

“There’s nothing we can do for him. Let’s get out of here.”

“No!” I broke through the grief. “I came here to save someone and I’m not going back without—”

“Help me, help! Is anyone there?”

Toby crawled over to the voice, keeping his head down to avoid the musket balls flying overhead. I quickly followed on his tail.

“Can you walk, soldier?”

“I…I’m not sure; my foot’s busted up pretty good.”

“We’ll help you.” Toby turned to me. “Here’s your rescue, Bobbi. Grab his other side and we’ll make a run for it. Ready?”

His eyes met mine and I found an added source of courage to carry us back to safety.

“Go!”

Tripping and stumbling, we took off crouching low and half dragging the wounded man between us. Rebel soldiers jeered and taunted us along with a volley of musket fire. In front of us, Union soldiers cheered us on to safety. Bullets whizzed pasted my ears as the long stretch seemed to grow even longer. Years of my life fell away with each step until we tumbled into a heap behind the embankment.

Troops gathered around, helping us to our feet, clapping our backs and sharing the commentary. After someone dragged in a stretcher to carry the wounded man to the medical tent, the commotion drifted down again. I looked to Toby, hoping to find a smile of renewed friendship. But he turned his back on me without even a glance, and disappeared into the crowd. My heart broke and dropped like a dead, brittle branch in the wind.

Captain Truckey appeared at my elbow. “Private Rivers, a word please.”

I signed and turned to face my punishment.

I really needed to be alone, so I made my way out of camp and climbed to the top of a nearby ridge. By the time I collapsed at the top, out of breath and near out of hope, darkness descended around me, holding me close.

Perched on a rocky outcropping, I stared out into the night as pinpoints of light sparked to life below me. One by one, campfires flared up to share warmth with the weary soldiers, appearing like sparkling stars in the nighttime sky.

“Mind if I interrupt?”

I leapt to my feet, spun around, drawing my Colt on the intruder.

Toby.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I really don’t blame you for pointing your gun at me, but do you mind?”

Oh.
I shrugged and repocketed the pistol, sitting back down on my cold rock. Inside, I grabbed a hold of my heart and tried to slow its erratic pounding.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, indicating the rock next to me.

I shrugged again. Part of me felt immensely glad to see him. The other part of me wanted to shove him over the edge.

He squatted down, stretching his long legs out in front of him with a groan. He pulled out a tin of cold beans and offered them to me. I shook my head.

We sat in silence for a while, the echoes of camp drifting up to mix with the cicadas’ soft hum.

Finally, I felt able to speak, though I hesitated in case he rebuked me once again. “I can’t believe Kenny is dead.”

“Me, too. He was a good friend.”

“A lot of good people lost their lives today. I’ve heard they’re estimating seven thousand soldiers died within twenty minutes, a complete massacre.”

Toby scratched the bearded stubble on his chin. “Rumor going around that General Grant regrets ordering the attack.”

“So many dead…”

“But one less thanks to you. I checked on that soldier we pulled out. His ankle’s busted, but he should recover. Maybe have a limp the rest of his life, but at least he has a life.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you get slammed for disobeying orders?”

“Two weeks of latrine duty.”

Toby smirked. “You’re getting to be a real good ditch digger.”

“I certainly can recognize a big pile of crap when I see one.”

“You’ll be able to shovel it with the best of them by the time we get out of this bloody war.”

“If we get out…”

We dropped into an awkward silence.
So many hadn’t survived. How many more would fall?

“Bobbi?”

“Hmm?

“I never thanked you for saving my life in The Wilderness.”

I glanced over at him, barely able to discern him in the darkness.

“I said some cruel things to you, and I apologize.” He paused for a moment. “At the time, I was awfully messed up. Meeting up with my brother shocked me, dragged all the rotting feelings up out of the depths. Loosing my family had hurt worse than any musket ball wound, and I grabbed a hold of that hurt and aimed it back at you. I realize now that Randy would have killed me, and probably you, too. You did what you had to, saving both of our lives…and I appreciate that.”

I broke my stare, turning to look instead at my dirty, ragged fingernails. “I, uh, tried to aim for a wound, honest—”

“I know, I know,” Toby interrupted. “Even the sharpest sharpshooter has an off day, especially with a dislocated shoulder. You did your best.”

We fell quiet again, and I tried to absorb Toby’s words. After a few moments, Toby laid a hand on my shoulder and I turned to look at him.

“Bobbi, we’ve both lost loved ones in this war; heck everyone has. But when I saw you run back out into the battlefield today, I…I don’t think I could survive loosing my best friend.”

We camped out at Cold Harbor until June 12
^th
when General Grant decided to move the Army to Petersburg. He planned to cut off the train depot that supplied the city of Richmond. We packed up and marched out, arriving at the James River on the 13
^th
. We camped there that night, with plans to cross the next day.

As I lay in our tent that night, the muggy air hung humid and heavy, pressing down on me so that I could scarcely take a breath. Rivers of sweat ran down my hot skin, soaking my loose fitting, neck-to-ankles underclothes that I’d stripped down to for sleeping. Not that I could sleep. I tossed and turned, trying to find a bit of comfort in the closed up crypt of a tent. A few mosquitoes managed to sneak in, whining in my ear and taking juicy bites of my blood. I swatted at them, remembering a nearby army had reported an outbreak of malaria. With a tremendous sigh, I flopped over once again, accidentally kicking Toby.

“If you don’t quit wiggling,” came a gruff, sleep-scratchy voice, “I’m gonna hand you over to the Rebs myself!”