by Ginny Dye
“Yeah. I guess that is what I mean.”
Carrie shrugged. “I’ve always dreamed of being a doctor. I guess I believe that’s what God means me to be. If I have to go through hard times to realize that dream, then so be it.” She looked at Frank squarely. “I am going to be a doctor. I’m not going to let anything stop me. Not even this crazy war. One of these days, it will be over, and then I’m going to school.” She knew she was really assuring herself more than just talking to Frank. “One of these days, this country will be full of women doctors.”
Frank looked skeptical but didn’t argue.
Carrie finished cleaning the wound and then stepped back, straightening her shoulders to relieve the tension. “That should take care of you for now. You’ll be taken into surgery as soon as there is space. In the meantime, drink all the water anyone brings you. It will help your fever.” Carrie smiled warmly and turned to look for her next patient.
The first ambulance wagon was followed by hundreds of others. Time blurred as Carrie moved from one wounded soldier to another.
Aware it was close to midnight, Carrie wearily climbed the steps to the house. Janie had come home several hours earlier, but Carrie had decided to help Dr. Wild with two cases he had saved till last, which he believed were hopeless. Necessity deemed that any soldiers most likely to live be treated first. One of the last two casualties had died on the table. The other had a good chance of survival if infection and gangrene did not set in. Carrie tried to push away the question of whether Dr. Wild and she had really done the soldier a favor. The man had told her earlier that he was a farmer and a father of three. He was now a farmer with no legs.
Carrie pushed open the door and headed for her bedroom. All she wanted was a bath to wash off the stench of the hospital and a good night’s sleep.
“Carrie? Is that you?”
Carrie sighed and veered toward the parlor. “Why are you still up, Father?” Thomas looked up from where he was seated next to the window, his face lined with worry and fatigue. Though it pained her, Carrie was accustomed to that look. It had settled on her father’s face after her mother died. The years of war had simply defined and deepened it. Grateful for an opportunity to at least get off her feet, she walked over and sank down into the chair opposite him.
“I’m afraid this might be it,” Thomas said grimly.
Carrie sat quietly, almost too tired to care what he would say next, but still she needed to know. Robert was out there somewhere. Had Hooker beaten Lee?
“Yankee cavalry is rampaging everywhere,” Thomas scowled. “They’re slashing in and out right up to the lines of the city - cutting telegraph lines and destroying railroad bridges. They’ve destroyed trains and torn up miles of track. Horses and mules are disappearing, and warehouses full of supplies are being burned.”
“Has Lee been defeated?”
“No one knows,” Thomas said, frustration in his voice. “Since all of the telegraph lines are down, it’s impossible to know what is really happening. Some messengers have gotten through, but the information is mixed. Some say Jackson and Lee pulled off a stunning victory. Others talk of defeat. We just don’t know.”
“One of my patients told me General Jackson was wounded,” Carrie offered, wishing she had something positive to offer her father.
“That’s what the reports say,” Thomas sighed. “That one at least seems accurate. His arm was broken and caught several bullets, but his men got him to safety, and he is being treated by his doctor. All the reports indicate he will recover.”
“Are people leaving the city?” Carrie asked. The last scares had resulted in a mass exodus of Richmond’s citizens. People left the city as rapidly as those from the outskirts retreated to its confines as the enemy approached.
“Not this time,” Thomas said grimly. “Richmond is rising to the occasion. We won’t let the city go without a fight. Citizen companies have been filing into the fortifications prepared by Lee last year. Doctor McCaw up at Chimborazo sent out a couple hundred convalescing soldiers to patrol River Road. Other hospitals are sending out the men who are able.”
Carrie grimaced all the while knowing it was necessary. She shuddered t thinking of the chaos that would reign if Richmond fell. What would happen to all the soldiers in the hospitals?
Thomas stood slowly. “I’m going to get some sleep. I wanted you to know what is happening. I leave early in the morning to join a company of government officials.”
“Leave to go where?” Carrie asked in alarm.
“Governor Letcher has called us to duty. We’re going to the outskirts of the city to stand guard.”
“But you’re not a soldier,” Carrie protested. She wanted to scream that she had already sent her husband into battle. She wasn’t going to send her father, too. She remained silent; many women were making a much greater sacrifice than she.
“And you’re not a doctor,” Thomas reminded her calmly. “But you’re acting as one. The times, rather than our credentials, seem to be the commander of our actions.”
“Be careful,” Carrie said softly, rising and walking over to kiss her father on his cheek.
Thomas heaved himself to his feet. “Are you coming up?”
“In a few minutes,” Carrie replied. She wasn’t ready to face her empty bed yet. Janie had moved into the room next to her, and she had to admit she missed her company. Every night, when Carrie walked into her room, the emptiness seemed to mock her and remind her of the brief ecstasy she had known as Robert’s wife. Her earlier fatigue was forgotten as fear for her father compounded her fear for Robert.
Carrie watched her father move slowly up the stairs; then she stood and eased quietly out onto the porch. A full moon shone down, its milky whiteness outlining the houses surrounding her and casting shadows from the trees. A soft breeze whispered through the leaves as a chorus of frogs sang to the night. Carrie sank down on the step and cupped her chin in her hand. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping her mind would transport her to her special place on the plantation along the bank of the James River. Spring had intensified her longing to be there again - to rejoice in the constant discovery of new life.
Carrie sat expectantly for several long minutes, then sighed, and opened her eyes. It was no good. Richmond - a city under Union siege - was her constant reality now. She grimaced. Why had she ever thought she wanted to grow up? Right now she would give anything to go back to the carefree days when her biggest concern was fighting for her right to be her own person. She managed to smile as she remembered her frustration when her mother tried to form her into a proper Southern lady.
In the last few years, the whole world had turned upside down. Her dream of going to medical school had been destroyed when the South became a foreign country at war with its Northern neighbors. She had barely escaped Cromwell Plantation when marauding Union soldiers had invaded it. Her whole way of thinking and living had been challenged and changed when she had determined that slavery was wrong. Her certainty had opened up ways of escape for all her father’s slaves. It had almost cost Carrie her relationship with Robert, yet God had changed his heart. They were married now, but the war continued to cruelly rip them apart. She was living in a city, numb and shell-shocked from the constant barrage of attacks aimed at the Confederate capital.
Carrie groaned and buried her head in her hands. The new summer of fighting had just begun and already she was heartsick and weary to the bone. It would be almost seven months before winter signaled an end to the fighting - if the war was still raging on. How was she going to stand it?
One day at a time.
The words were whispered to her on the breeze. Allowing the wind to sink the words into her heart, Carrie raised her head,
One day at a time.
A sudden gust of wind whipped around the corner of the house. The heavy, waxen leaves of the magnolia tree guarding the porch rustled in protest. Carrie looked up just as the moonlight rested fully on a limb of the tree. Standing slowly, she eased across
the porch to the tree. Reaching out her hand, she cupped the creamy blossom illuminated by the moon and pressed it to her face and breathed deeply of its fragrant perfume.
One day at a time.
Carrie understood. She needed only enough courage for one day. Only enough hope for one day. Only enough strength for one day. It was a lesson she knew she would have to learn over and over, but for this one night it filled her with hope - filled her with the ability to keep going.
She turned to face the breeze and lifted her face to the moon, while still grasping her magnolia bloom. “I love you, Robert. Wherever you are, I love you. I’m holding on to my wish for us to have a long life together. It may only be a dream...” Carrie’s voice turned fierce. “It may only be a dream, but it’s my dream. I will hold onto it until you are here with me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carrie leaned out her window and drew in deep breaths of fresh air. It was a beautiful day, but she could find no joy in it. A week had passed since the first wagon load of wounded soldiers had rumbled into the city. The men now occupied every available space.
Funeral processions had once again become commonplace in the beleaguered city, but the one that would occur today had cast a black pall over the entire citizenry. General Stonewall Jackson had not recovered. His left arm had been amputated, and infection had set in. Finally, pneumonia held him in its brutal grasp until it had finally sucked the life from the legendary soldier. The whole city was in mourning.
Carrie straightened her hat and then went down to join her father. The shock of Jackson’s death increased her worry over Robert. He had not been listed among the dead, wounded, or missing, but that did nothing to assuage her fears. Was she about to relive the fear and unknown of the previous year?
“One day at a time,” she whispered, holding onto her flickering hope with all her might.
Thomas was waiting for her when she reached the bottom of the steps. As a government representative, he must be there hours early before the actual funeral procession began. Carrie’s heart tightened even more when she saw her father. His face was a strange mixture of pain, bitterness, and anger. He looked old.
“This is a black day for our nation,” Thomas muttered when she reached his side.
Carrie knew there was nothing she could say to lighten his mood. She reached out and slipped her arm through his. “Our ride is waiting.”
Spencer, the burly black man who was always on call for her father, nodded grimly when they reached the carriage. “How do, Mr. Cromwell. Miss Cromwell.”
“Hello, Spencer,” Carrie replied. “It’s good to see you.”
Thomas merely nodded and stepped into the carriage, settling down stiffly. Spencer exchanged a knowing look with Carrie. Carrie had developed a strong friendship with the friendly driver who remained a staunch Confederate supporter while he also struggled to help gain freedom for his people. He did not share the hatred and disdain for the South that many of his people did. Free or slave, he was determined to stay in the South. It was his home. He had no desire to live under a conquering Northern government.
“I be real sorry about the general, Mr. Cromwell,” Spencer offered.
Thomas merely grunted, his stony face inviting no further conversation.
Carrie caught Spencer’s eye and shook her head slightly. When her father was like this it was better to leave him alone. He would have to work through it himself.
Carrie leaned back against the carriage seat. She could already hear the church bells tolling all over the city. She knew all the government offices, as well as every place of business, were closed. As they drew nearer to the Capitol, she saw flags flying at half-mast. Streets were filling with people determined to see their hero’s coffin pass by.
It took longer than normal, even by the crowded city’s standards, for Spencer to weave his way through the congested streets. Thomas, his face set in a hard mask, stepped from the carriage as soon as it rolled up to the columned Capitol. “You’ll wait here?” he asked.
Carrie nodded silently; then she watched her father walk heavily up the sidewalk.
“He be a hurting man,” Spencer remarked.
“I’m not sure how much more he can take,” Carrie agreed, gazing after him. “He feels as if his whole world is coming apart.”
“It be something terrible about the general, sure ‘nuff, but our boys did win that battle up there,” Spencer protested.
“It’s not that simple,” Carrie replied. “Technically we won it, but the South couldn’t afford the price we paid to accomplish it. The figures are just coming in. It seems General Hooker had 17,000 casualties. General Lee lost 13,000. The general succeeded in pushing Hooker back across the river, but he lost a huge percent of his army in achieving it.”
“But at least Lee got rid of him,” Spencer reminded her.
Carrie shook her head. “My father and I have talked about that. People claim we won a stunning victory. My father believes it was far from conclusive. Hooker is not running to the North with his tail between his legs. He is sitting on the other side of the river licking his wounds. He still has a huge army, much bigger than our own. Hooker’s forces will eventually get stronger.”
“And then he’ll be back,” Spencer finished for her. “I reckon I see what you’re saying.” He stared north. “I guess we ain’t seen the end of this trouble.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Spencer looked around thoughtfully. “A lot of folks done pinned a bunch of their hopes on ole’ Stonewall. There be a heap of hurtin’ in this town today.” He turned back to Carrie. “What else goin’ on out there, Miss Carrie?”
Now that her father was gone, Spencer lapsed into his usual way of addressing her. Carrie stopped looking around and focused her attention on him. She knew he counted on her to keep him informed about the events in the nation. “I’m afraid things aren’t looking good. People are taking hope from this battle Lee just won, but there is big trouble out in Mississippi. There is a new Union general in control out there. His name is Grant. He is determined to take Vicksburg, and all reports say he is accomplishing things none of his predecessors could.”
“Is Vicksburg important?”
“It’s our only port town left on the Mississippi River. If it falls like New Orleans, the Confederacy will be split in half, and the Union will control that whole segment.”
“You still be wanting the Union to win?” Spencer asked suddenly.
Carrie frowned and fell silent. She had been asking herself that question every day. The answer became harder and harder to be sure of. Finally she shook her head. “I just don’t know anymore,” she admitted. “I used to be so sure I wanted the North to win - for our country to be reunited. My desire to see slavery abolished hasn’t diminished, but the rest of it is so confusing. My father is sure his whole life will be destroyed if the North wins this war. So many men - including my husband - are risking their lives to protect their country.”
She shook her head in frustration. “I just don’t know anymore. It’s unbelievably hard to have an understanding of the big picture when my whole life consists of taking care of wounded soldiers and watching men die on a daily basis. It’s as if whatever is happening at the moment dictates my feelings.” Suddenly she realized she was rambling, talking more to herself than she was to Spencer. “Listen to me,” she laughed. “Enough of my talk. What about you?”
Spencer regarded her quietly for a long moment. “One thing about you ain’t changed, Miss Carrie. I don’t reckon it ever will. You still look at people and just see them as people. Not black or white.” He paused. “Ain’t many white people in the South feels that way.”
Carrie was silent, knowing he was right but hoping with all her heart it would change with time.
“I been lookin’ around, Miss Carrie,” Spencer continued, “and I’s decided one thing. Your daddy’s way of life is gone even if the North don’t win this war.” His voice was firm. “I’ve heard lots of Southerners say Mr. L
incoln’s Emancipation Proclamation don’t mean nothing. They snorted about it for a while then decided the North couldn’t come down here and enforce it, so it weren’t nothin’ they needed to be worryin’ bout.”
“It means more than that,” Carrie protested.
“Yessum,” Spencer agreed. “It be like the parting of the Red Sea for the slaves. Somebody standin’ up for the coloreds made them see different. Like I say,” he mused thoughtfully, “I’s been lookin’ around. I figures the ole’ evil of slavery done lasted so long cause the slaves let it. Oh sure, they be plenty enough force to keep it going, but all in all, it kept on a goin’ cause we let it.”
“Now, don’t gets me wrong,” Spencer asserted quickly. “Us coloreds done found ourselves in a nightmare, and too many of us be like helpless children, but still theys be plenty of us to turn things ‘round if we really wanted to.”
“That’s what so many Southerners are afraid of,” Carrie replied. “They’re afraid the slaves will revolt and try to win their freedom with violence.”
“That might have done happened,” Spencer nodded. “There been plenty enough talk of changin’ things no matter what it takes, but Mr. Lincoln done changed that. Coloreds around here thinkin’ mostly one of two ways. They’s either just walkin’ away and headin’ north to freedom, or they’s bidin’ their time.”
“Like you.”
“Like me,” Spencer agreed. “I’s know I gonna be free real soon. Even if the South done win this war, it ain’t never gonna be the same. The old demon of slavery done been broke forever!” he chuckled.
Carrie looked at him thoughtfully and realized the truth of what he was saying. “Change is never an easy thing, Spencer.”
“Yessum, it gonna be mighty hard on ever’body. But it ain’t gonna be no harder than slavery been. I reckon it be time for white folks to have hard times for a while, too,” Spencer stated matter-of-factly, his voice holding no malice.
