by Ginny Dye
“We need a committee to go up to Manassas and aid in bringing the soldiers home,” he said.
It took just minutes for a group of people stepped forward to heed his call. Then the mayor continued on. “Hospital accommodations here in Richmond are rather limited...”
Rather limited, Carrie thought. She would have substituted the word, painfully. No one had thought very much about medical care. In fact, it had been given hardly any thought at all. People had gone blissfully along thinking there would be no real war - and if there was, the South would be gloriously victorious with hardly anyone injured. Reality was becoming a bitter pill to swallow.
She swung her attention back to the mayor as he continued.
“...until we can provide facilities on a more permanent basis, we will need a committee to help secure temporary facilities. We will need rooms, supplies, and nurses to take care of the men coming in.”
Carrie looked around as an eager swell of voices rose around her. Richmond may not have known what was being requested of her when she became the capital of the Confederacy, but they were certainly giving their all to rise to the occasion. Once more, Carrie struggled with her desire to stay in the city. She could make a difference here. She knew she could! In spite of the crowded congestion, this was where she wanted to be. Once more the mayor’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“And we’ll need a committee to go out into the surrounding countryside. We need donations of farm fresh produce. The soldiers will need good food. There simply is not enough to meet the need.”
His words once again settled the conflict in Carrie’s heart. For now, her place was on the plantation. She would return as soon as there was news of Robert. As she listened to the swell of voices, her mind was busily planning how to manage the fields to produce the most food for the city. It wasn’t the job she wanted to do, but it was the job she had been given to do. She would do it to the best of her ability.
“Here comes the first train!” someone standing next to Carrie shouted. “Here come our boys!”
Carrie strained to catch her first glimpse of the approaching train. Already she was dreading what she would see. The stream of broken humanity had begun that morning. She was riding with her father in the carriage when she had seen a group of men moving slowly down the road ahead of her. Tears had rolled down her face as she drew close enough to identify them.
Tattered gray uniforms, still covered with the dust of battle, clothed the first troops to reach the city. They called themselves the walking wounded, still able to laugh and talk about the victory they had won. Bloody bandages covered head wounds; slings held injured arms; rough crutches supported broken or strained limbs. Tears had swollen in the eyes of some as they witnessed the hero’s reception with which they were greeted.
Now the first ambulance train was rolling slowly into the station. Rain was once more pelting the city as the engine ground to a halt in the deepening twilight. A hush fell over the crowd as the doors to one of the cars slid open. Men and women had come by the scores, curious to see what the great battle had cost or to look for loved ones.
Carrie had come only to look for Robert. She knew in her heart she could not return to the plantation until she knew he was all right. She didn’t stop to question or examine her feelings. She simply knew she couldn’t leave. Maybe in the quiet of her own room at home on the plantation she would analyze the deep love that held her in the city when she should be breaking ground for seed in one of the fields. But not now. She didn’t have a need to understand her feelings. She just had to know if Robert was alive and well.
The first stretcher was carried slowly from the train. The soldier looked to be in his late teens. He was filthy and the sickly pallor of his skin stood starkly against the darkening day. His eyes were open but were staring seemingly at nothing. His grimy hand gripped the side of the stretcher tightly as if he were trying to control his desire to scream out against the pain. His head was wrapped in a soiled bandage, and one arm was held tightly against his chest in a sling. But it was his leg that drew everyone’s attention. There was only one of them. The other had been blown away by a cannon shell or taken away by a surgeon’s knife.
Carrie raised her hand quickly and stuffed her knuckles against her mouth to keep from crying out. How could anything be worth this? The stunned silence around her continued as dozens of men were pulled out of the cars lining the tracks. Scores of carriages were lined up to transport the soldiers to the homes waiting for them. She wanted to turn and run from the horrible scene before her, but she couldn’t move. She had to know if Robert’s strong, handsome face was among those being pulled from the trains.
Over 1000 men... The caravan of ambulance trains would continue for a long time.
Carrie held the piece of paper tightly in her hands. Her father had given it to her this morning. It was a list of all the homes housing wounded soldiers. She would go to them one by one. Another list had come through the night before. It was a list of the wounded from the battle at Bull Run. She had almost cried with relief when she had not found Robert’s name. Then her father, understanding her need to know, had gently reminded her the list might not be complete.
Carrie looked up at the gracious brownstone in front of her. The steep stairs, lined with graceful wrought-iron, must have been quite a challenge to the men carrying stretchers. This was a home designed for entertaining and family fun. She could smell the hospital odor as she slowly approached the door. Open windows allowed all the smells to waft out on the streets. She knocked on the door quietly. She didn’t want to disturb anyone.
“May I help you?”
Carrie smiled at the pleasant-faced woman who answered the door. “My name is Carrie Cromwell. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for someone. His name is Robert Borden. Is he here by any chance?” she said, fervently hoping the answer was no.
“I’m sorry, but no, he’s not here. Have you seen the list of wounded? They have posted it at the Capitol,” the woman said kindly, looking as if she wanted to help.
“Yes, I’ve seen it. But it may not be complete. I just have to know...” Her voice trailed off as the sympathy in the other woman’s eyes deepened.
“Is Robert Borden your husband?”
“No,” Carrie said quickly. “He’s...” Just what was he? “He’s someone very special to me.”
“I see,” the woman said compassionately. “Well, good luck in your search.” Just then a hoarse voice cried out for her. She backed quickly from the door. “Excuse me, please. I must go to my patient.”
The door closed quickly, and once more Carrie was alone on the porch. She listened quietly for a moment as the woman’s calming voice drifted through the open window. The moans of the wounded man ceased. Carrie looked down at the next address on her list, walked down the steps, and continued down the street. The next house was just one block farther.
By late afternoon, Carrie was exhausted. She didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed. She surely didn’t want to find Robert wounded in one of these houses, but she yearned for some sure knowledge of how he was. There were only three addresses left on her list when she knocked at the door of a plain, yet well-built, wooden frame house. Dutifully, she repeated her speech then waited for the woman to shake her head like all the rest.
“Robert Borden? Did you say Robert Borden? A lieutenant?” the rather large woman with the lined face asked sharply.
Carrie gasped and took a step forward. “Yes! Yes, I did. Is he here?”
The woman shook her head decisively. “No, Miss Cromwell. He isn’t here, but someone is here I think you would like to meet.” Smiling, she held the door open and beckoned her inside.
Mystified, Carrie stepped inside the cool foyer. The afternoon had brought a cooling breeze that ruffled the heavy drapes at the tall windows. The woman started up the wide staircase and then turned around.
“My name is Jane Fenmore. I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier.”
Carrie smiled graciously. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fenmore.” She controlled the urge to dash up the stairs past her.
“You must have had quite a search of it today,” Mrs. Fenmore observed.
Carrie nodded, knowing she must look exhausted. “I started at nine o’clock this morning.”
“You poor dear,” she clucked. Just then they reached the open door of a room at the far end of the long hallway on the second floor of the home. “Hobbs, I have some company for you,” she said gently.
Carrie followed her in the room and stared at the young boy lying on the bed, propped up by several pillows. A bandage across his chest spoke of a bullet wound. His brown eyes were tired, but there was still a hint of a sparkle in them.
“Miss Cromwell, this is Warren Hobbs. He has told me everyone just calls him Hobbs. He likes it better that way.”
Carrie nodded, wondering when she was going to discover why she had been brought up to visit this stranger.
“Hobbs, this is Carrie Cromwell. I don’t know who she is, but she just showed up at my door looking for Robert Borden.”
Hobbs’ eyes lit eagerly. “Robert Borden? You mean my Lieutenant Borden, ma’am?”
Carrie moved forward eagerly to stand beside the bed. “You know Lieutenant Borden?” she asked breathlessly.
“Know him? Know him?” Hobbs exclaimed. “Why, he saved my life, ma’am.”
Mrs. Fenmore laughed. “He has talked of little else besides his lieutenant since he arrived here a couple of days ago.” She patted Hobbs’ hand and moved away. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She pulled up a chair for Carrie and left the room.
“How do you know the lieutenant?” Hobbs asked eagerly. “Are you his girl?”
Carrie shook her head. “He’s just a special friend of mine.” Hobbs looked at her closely but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His look said it all.
“The lieutenant is a prince of a man, Miss Cromwell. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be alive right now. He risked his life for me, he did!” Carrie’s questioning look drove him on. “We were down in that thicket with Union soldiers raining bullets on us. Some of the boys didn’t make it out.”
Carrie shuddered as his face darkened with the memory. She couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like.
Hobbs continued. “One of those bullets caught me right in the chest. The doc said it was a wonder it didn’t kill me. It probably would have if the lieutenant hadn’t carried me out.” His face darkened again. “The lieutenant picked me up and slung me over his shoulder when they yelled ‘Retreat’. Hurt like the dickens but I didn’t say nothing. I sure didn’t want to get left behind in that slaughter hole. Then the lieutenant took off running up that hill with bullets whizzing all around us and me slapping on his back.” He paused, remembering. “I passed out not long after that, I guess. The next thing I knew I was in a surgeon’s tent with them probing in my chest for a bullet. Then I think I passed out again.” He gave her a weak grin.
Carrie reached out and grasped his hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Heck, don’t feel sorry for me. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m still alive, and I still got all my arms and legs. Some of the others weren’t so lucky.”
Carrie nodded. “I know.” Silence fell between them for a long minute, and then Carrie leaned closer. “Lieutenant Borden. Is he all right?” She couldn’t wait one more second to know.
Hobbs nodded. “The lieutenant came out without a scratch on him!”
Carrie sagged against her chair in relief while Hobbs continued.
“He came to see me before I got put on the train. Said it took him three hours of hunting to find me.” Hobbs’ face filled with something like adoration. “He wanted to make sure I was okay. I told him I would be right as rain soon and be back to join him in the next battle if them Yankees got enough guts to try and take us on again.”
“So he is still up at Manassas?”
“Yep. Least he was a few days ago. Don’t you be worrying none, Miss Cromwell. The lieutenant’s just fine. And he’s one prince of a man!”
Carrie nodded gratefully, her heart swelling with thankfulness. “Thank you so much, Hobbs.” She could understand why Robert had been so taken with the boy. His sparkling eyes and rust-colored mop of hair made him very appealing. He couldn’t be that much younger than her, but he looked like he was barely in his teens. “Where are you from, Hobbs?”
“Out in western Virginia, ma’am. My family been farming up in those mountains for a long time.”
“Does your mother know you’re all right? Does she know you got hurt? Has she been to see you?”
Hobbs looked at her in astonishment. “Been to see me? Why, my family ain’t been farther than a few miles from home ever since I been born. Takes a lot of money to go places, ma’am. I reckon I’m the first one to go very far away,” he said proudly. “But my mama, she ought to know I’m all right. Mrs. Fenmore done wrote a letter for me and sent it off. My mama might not have got it yet, but she will sometime. I told her not to be worrying about me that I made it through that battle just fine.”
“Did you tell her you got shot?”
“Shucks no, ma’am. Why would I do a thing like that? It would just make her fret about me that much more. No, I just told her I was back here in Richmond a little while after winning the big battle.” He grinned at Carrie. “What she don’t know can’t hurt her, you know. She’s got plenty to be worrying about with all them mouths at home to feed. I don’t need to add another worry. Besides, I’ll probably be home soon. I don’t see those Yankees coming after more of what we gave them a few days ago. I reckon it will all be over soon. And then won’t I have a story to tell!”
Carrie handed her bags to Micah. Then she turned to her father. “I have everything now, Father. I guess I’m ready to go.” She was suddenly reluctant to leave him.
The city was still rejoicing in its victory but the somber realities of war had settled in with a vengeance as house after house filled with the wounded. There was hardly an hour went by that a funeral procession did not wind its way down to Oakwood Cemetery where land had been put aside for soldiers to be laid to rest. The city, already stretched beyond its limits, was being stretched even more. The people were rising valiantly to the effort, but the strain was seen on almost every face. Her father was no exception.
Thomas walked with her out onto the porch and then engulfed her in a hug. “I’m going to miss you, Carrie.”
Carrie’s throat tightened as she heard the roughness in his voice. “I’m going to miss you, too.” She pulled back to look into his face. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too,” Thomas said, forcing a smile to his face. Then he cleared his throat. “You tell Ike Adams to keep taking such good care of things. And tell him to do whatever you want about those fields. Of course, you shouldn’t have to. I wrote him a long letter with all the details. You have that, don’t you?”
Carrie nodded, and patted her bag. “It’s right here. You don’t have anything to worry about. The overseer and I are taking care of things just fine,” she said smoothly. Now that she was headed home she could hardly wait to get back to Rose and Moses. Her heart longed to spend time with Sarah. She had been in the city almost three weeks. Her soul longed for the open expanses of the plantation again even while a part of her still yearned to stay in the city.
“Take care of yourself,” Thomas said for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Carrie nodded. “I will. You too,” she added. She wished there was some way to reassure her father. She had never seen so much worry in his face. She knew he hated having her so far away. She knew he felt guilty because he was depending on her to keep the plantation going. She also knew he was concerned about her safety if any more battles happened soon. He was confident there would be more. He just didn’t know when or where.
She reached up and gave him another hug. “I’m a big girl. I’m going to be j
ust fine. You do your job. I promise I’ll do mine.”
Thomas managed another smile and then stepped away. “If you want to be there by dark, you need to be going.”
Carrie waved until she was out of sight and then turned her attention to home. Already her mind was full of plans for providing food for the city.
“Are you comfortable, Miss Cromwell?”
Carrie smiled up at the large, burly man her father had hired to take her home. “I’m fine, Spencer. Isn’t it a lovely day?” Surprise showed on the black man’s face. It was obvious he wasn’t used to having casual conversation with a white person.
“Yes, ma’am. It is at that,” he responded. Then he fell silent.
Carrie left him to his thoughts. She had plenty of her own to occupy her. They had only been moving down the road a few minutes when a mass of movement caught her attention. She looked more closely. What in the world was a group of people, including well-dressed men and women, doing walking around outside of one of the tobacco warehouses? Leaning forward in her seat, she tried to figure out what was causing so much interest. She could see nothing - just the sturdy brick walls of one of the tobacco warehouses. “What in the world is going on, Spencer?” He would certainly know.
Spencer looked back at her with a wide grin. “That be the new prison, Miss Cromwell.”
“The new prison?” Carrie echoed.
Spencer nodded excitedly. “Yes, m’am. The soldiers done brought in a lot of them Union men a couple of days ago. I heard tell the army marched right in one of them warehouses and told the manager they was taking it over. That it would be a prison from now on. That one everybody be walking around is the one for the officers. Folks been swarming around outside ever since they found out them Yankees was in there!”
Carrie stared at the imposing walls. Now that Spencer had said something, she remembered her father talking about the prisoners who had been taken after the Battle of Bull Run.
