by Ginny Dye
“There are more wagons coming up the hill!” a ward nurse yelled as he dashed out the door.
Carrie tightened her lips and followed. The newly wounded were already being transported in. Moving to the side, she stood and watched as the long line of ambulance wagons wound their way slowly up the hill. Tents were being hastily erected to handle the overflow of soldiers who would not fit in the buildings. Carrie tried not to gag at the odors settling down on the hospital as the day warmed and the hot air pressed the stench of rotting limbs close to the ground. She turned toward the southwest and waited hopefully for the breeze that almost always blew from that direction, but today she was greeted by somber stillness. The whole world seemed to be in mournful waiting.
“Does anyone know what happened?” a nurse asked as he stood with the rest of them waiting for the wagons. “They must have held them or we would be seeing Yankee soldiers before we saw the wounded.”
“The battle didn’t last too long this time,” one attendant said hopefully. “Maybe the Yankees have decided to go fight their battles somewhere else.”
“Fat chance!” another snorted. “They didn’t fight their way all the way up that peninsula to give up that easy.”
Carrie watched and listened as the voices rose around her. She was sure the last man was right. The fight for Richmond was surely not over yet. She pushed down thoughts of Robert as she watched the first wagon cross the bridge over Bloody Run Creek, and then she hurried back to her ward. There were only a few empty beds – vacated by men who had not made it through the night. She was sure they would be filled soon.
“Did we whip ‘em again, Miss Cromwell?” Johnny Whiteside called as soon as she entered the building.
“I don’t know, Johnny. But I didn’t see any Union troops escorting the wagons up the hill.”
“Ah! You mean more of our soldiers are coming to join in the wonderful hospitality and care we’re being blessed with?”
Carrie smiled down at Alexander. “Do I detect sarcasm in your voice, Mr. Bedford? Are we not treating you well enough?” she teased.
“On the contrary, Miss Cromwell. It’s just that I can think of other places I would rather be right now.”
“You got that right, Bedford,” a man a few beds down cried out. “About now my fields are exploding with new growth. I reckon my mama and sisters are having a rough time trying to do all the work on our farm. My daddy and two brothers are fighting here with me. Mama was real brave when we all left, but there just ain’t no way her and my little sisters can take care of all that work. We have to end this war soon so they can have some help.”
“Your mama would feel a lot better about her men fighting this war if she knew all of them was really fighting!” a defiant voice cried out.
Carrie turned around to stare at the heavyset man with hanging jowls. Why did he sound so angry?
“Why don’t you just shut up, Wiggins!” the young man who had been talking called out.
“Shut up yourself, Green. I’m tired of hearing you talk about your mama and sisters. You still got a daddy and brothers who are out their fighting. They’re out there fighting your battle ‘cause you couldn’t stay away from the ladies.” Wiggins scowled with disgust and then looked up to see Carrie watching him. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I know you shouldn’t be having to hear things like this, but I’ve had my fill of listening to this young pup.” He hesitated then evidently decided to explain. “Green here never actually got to the battlefield. He couldn’t seem to make his way past the ladies offering their services in fair Richmond. He done caught a disease from one of them. He’s been lying in this hospital for two days because of something they call venereal disease!” He snorted his disgust again. “If that don’t beat all!”
Carrie nodded briskly then busied herself pouring and dispensing more water. She knew, of course, about the prostitutes who had flocked to the city when it filled with soldiers. And she had heard of the awful number of men who were being stricken with venereal disease. This war seemed to have no end to the ways it could strike down young men. A quick glance revealed Green staring down at his blanket with a forlorn, beaten look on his face.
Quickly she filled a glass with fresh water and carried it to him. “Have some water,” she said kindly. Green stared up at her, searching for condemnation in her face. Carrie held the water out to him. “We all make mistakes, soldier. You’re paying for yours already.”
Green stared deeply into her eyes and swallowed hard. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Carrie smiled down at him then moved away as a new stretcher was carried in the door. She smiled easily at their newest patient as he was put on the only bed still available. Experience was giving her the ability to look beyond the grime, blood, and black gunpowder. A quick perusal identified another young man still in his teens. “Hello soldier.”
“Howdy, ma’am.”
Carrie looked at him more closely. There was no mistaking the familiar pain resting on his features, yet his voice was clear and strong, and his eyes still shone with life. “My name is Miss Cromwell.”
“And I’m Bobby Macintosh,” he responded with a smile. “I tried to tell my colonel I didn’t need to come here, but he insisted. Seemed to think a few bullets in the leg was something to be concerned about.”
“I think your colonel might be right!” Carrie retorted with a laugh. She already liked this young man.
Bobby shrugged. “I told my colonel I’d come and let them take the bullets out, but only after he made the medics promise no one would take my leg. I still have a lot of fighting to do, ma’am. Kinda hard to do on one leg.” Not waiting for a response, he continued on. “I’ve got to tell you, Miss Cromwell. This city has a lot of people who don’t think so straight living here.”
“What do you mean?”
“This morning when my squad was bringing me in to one of the ambulance wagons, there were regular streams of people heading from Richmond out to the battlefield.”
“More soldiers?”
“No, ma’am. That would have been what you’d expect. Nope. There were just hundreds of regular folks. Some of the guys with me told me they recognized the governor, some ministers, clerks, people in the war department. And lots of just regular folks. I reckon they thought they were going to help somehow. Or maybe they just wanted to share some of the glory since we pushed them Yankees back. Course, I saw a good bit of them picking through stuff on the field. Guess they were looking for souvenirs or maybe something to sell.”
Carrie listened, fascinated. “What happened when the battle started again?”
Bobby laughed loudly. “Funniest sight I ever saw. As soon as the first shell hit the ground, that whole group turned and ran as fast as you could imagine. Wagons and carriages were trying to outrace the other. Yep, I reckon they wanted to share in our glory, but they didn’t have no intention of sharing in the fight!”
Carrie joined in the laughter as the whole ward erupted with merriment. She was swiftly learning that all of them found whatever they could to laugh at and then somehow managed to endure the rest.
Carrie was exhausted as she made the way down the hill toward home. She and Janie were silent as they watched the sun sink low on the horizon. They had smiled at each other, but neither had spoken when they left the hospital. The fatigue and strain on their faces said it all.
“Carrie, look!” Janie suddenly exclaimed.
Carrie raised her head to look in the direction her friend was pointing. She had not even been aware they had turned onto their own street. As she stared at the house, her heart leapt with joy. Tied to the post outside, Granite was staring at her with his ears pricked forward. “Granite!”
His nicker of delight rang through the air as Carrie lifted her skirts and began to run, never taking her eyes off the house. Just as she reached the walkway, Robert stepped out onto the porch then leapt to the bottom of the steps. She ran into the arms he held wide.
Carrie was laughing when she finally stepped bac
k. She looked up at him with shining eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but Robert held a finger to her lips.
“Don’t say anything yet. I just want to look at you. This is always how I remember you best - staring up at me with your shining green eyes, your beautiful face more alive than anything I have ever seen. You give me courage to keep living.”
Carrie stopped laughing and looked deeply into his eyes. “It was bad.” Robert didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The shadows in his eyes and the tense lines of his face said it all. Without speaking, Carrie raised her hand and placed it against his cheek.
Robert reached up and grabbed it, holding it there, while he continued to drink her in with his eyes. Carrie stood quietly, the tenderness rising and swelling until it threatened to choke her. She could not bear the hurt and pain she saw on Robert’s face. Slowly, some of the tension seemed to ease, and his eyes began to clear. Only then did she speak. “I love you, Robert Borden. I’m glad you’re home.”
“I love you too, Carrie Cromwell.” Smiling slightly, he once more opened his arms.
Carrie melted into them, stood for several long minutes, and let him absorb the strength of her presence while she did the same. Was this love? Each giving to the other the strength they found in being together?
It was Janie’s voice that finally broke into their world. “I think you have one very jealous horse here,” she called teasingly.
Carrie pulled back from Robert’s embrace. Seconds later all of them were laughing at the sight of Granite’s staring intently at Carrie and Robert. He was allowing Janie to pet him, but he was paying no more attention to her than he was to the sounds of traffic on the road behind him. It was clear he thought he was due some consideration for bringing Robert home.
Carrie went to him immediately and held his big face between her hands as she gazed into his eyes. “Thank you, Granite. I knew I could count on you to bring him home.” She untied his reins and turned toward the back of the house. “I’ll be in soon. I’m going to find him a very special treat.”
“He deserves it,” Robert said gruffly.
Carrie nodded but didn’t ask any questions. She had heard enough horror stories to last a lifetime. Robert and Granite were alive and well. That was all she needed to know. She would listen if Robert needed to talk, but for now she was content.
Thomas was the first to ask questions when dinner had been served. “Is it true the North regained their lost ground?”
Robert nodded. “About the best you can say of the last two days is that it was a draw. We pushed them back yesterday. They pushed us back today. Everything is exactly where it started two days ago.”
Not exactly, Carrie thought. There are now thousands of men, both Southerners and Northerners, who are dead or wounded. She and Janie exchanged long looks, each knowing what the other was thinking.
“How did General Smith handle himself today?” Thomas asked.
Robert shrugged. “He was in a rough position,” was all he said. Then his face cleared a little. “President Davis commissioned General Lee this afternoon. He is now in charge of the army.”
“You seem pleased.”
“Yes, sir. I am very pleased. General Johnston was a fine man, but Lee holds my complete confidence. I believe President Davis will find this may be the best decision he ever makes.”
Thomas nodded. “He has my confidence as well.” He paused and then pushed on to the matter pressing him the most. “What will happen to the city?”
Robert paused. “It’s too soon to know. One thing I know for sure. It’s not over yet. Not by a long shot.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Robert whistled cheerfully as he quickly slung his saddle on Granite’s back and cinched the girth tight. He double-checked his rations, repositioned his hat, and swung into the saddle. He didn’t know for sure what this mission was that General Lee was sending him on, but from the casual shine in his commander’s eyes, he held out hope it was going to be different from what he had experienced so far. Looking back toward Richmond, he gazed at the steeples poking their heads above the distant tree line. It was all that could be seen in the bright moonlight, but it was enough to pull his thoughts to Carrie. Resolutely he pushed them away. They had said their good-byes earlier that night. Both knew each goodbye might be the last - it was one of the cruel realities of war. Right now he had a job to do.
It was close to midnight when he rode up to the tent of Brigadier General J.E.B Stuart. Robert had never met the twenty-nine year old Virginian commanding Lee’s cavalry brigade, but he knew the stories that had already made him something of a legend - just from the way he dressed for battle. With his gold-braided jacket, yellow sash and cavalry cape, his gauntlets, jackboots, and ostrich plumed hat, he cut an impressive figure. General Lee had also told him the genius Stuart had for reconnaissance and intelligence gathering. According to Lee, no other intelligence source the South claimed could surpass Stuart’s eye for seeing and evaluating a military landscape or an enemy’s strengths and dispositions. From what Robert gathered about Stuart, he could only surmise their mission was connected with reconnaissance work.
“Who goes there?” a soldier barked into the night.
Robert pulled Granite to a halt. “Lieutenant Robert Borden.”
A figure materialized from the shadows. “General Stuart is expecting you, sir. You may go in.”
Robert nodded and ducked into the tent’s opening.
Poring over maps and charts, Stuart sat at his table. He pushed them away and leaned back in his chair. “Hello, Lieutenant.”
Robert liked him immediately. Stuart’s compact, muscular body spoke of great strength. His florid face, with its broad forehead and prominent nose, was covered with a thick, reddish-brown, curled mustache and spreading beard. But it was his eyes that pulled Robert in - they were a brilliant and penetrating blue that burned with the intensity of his concentration. He was a man to be trusted. “Hello, General.”
Stuart wasted no time on pleasantries. Once he had waved Robert to a seat, he turned back to his papers. “My men have no idea what is about to take place,” he said.
“I don’t find that difficult to believe, sir. Neither do I,” Robert commented drily.
“Good!” Stuart laughed. “Lee requested secrecy. I believe it has been accomplished.”
Robert said nothing. It was obvious Stuart was comfortable with his being there. He was content to wait and watch developments. Which, as it turned out, was exactly what he did. Not another word was spoken for almost two hours.
Finally, at two a.m. Stuart rose from his chair and moved to the door of his tent. He spoke briefly to the aid outside the tent and then turned to Robert with a smile. “I believe it’s that time, Lieutenant. Your horse is ready?”
“Yes, sir!” Robert said, springing up from the chair where he was fighting sleep. All thoughts of rest had flown. Whatever Stuart was planning, Robert was sure it was going to be eventful.
By daybreak, a long cavalry column stretched along the turnpike leading out of Richmond. Twelve hundred men strong, it had gotten underway with no bugle call or fanfare. Secrecy was a primary concern, so the men moved on unaware of their destination.
Robert listened as the men around him, talking in low voices, tried to guess where they were going.
“We must be going to join up with Stonewall Jackson in the valley,” one rough looking soldier from Mississippi said. “I heard he won a dazzling victory up there. Maybe they’re sending us up there as reinforcements.”
The man riding next to him shook his head. “I reckon we’re heading for McClellan’s flank,” he said in an excited voice. “I think we’re about to see some more action.”
Other voices joined the argument and threw in their suspicions and guesses. Robert was content to ride along quietly. They would find out when Stuart was ready for them to find out. It was good to be in the saddle again. Granite stepped out proudly, tossing his head in the cool morning air. The sky exploded with orange
and purple as the sun edged its way onto a new day.
The first day passed rather uneventfully. By the time they made camp about three miles outside of Ashland, Robert figured they had ridden twenty miles or so. The most exciting thing all day had been the local people rushing out to greet them and excited to see Confederate gray.
Back in the saddle early the next morning, the line of cavalry moved off again. All the guessing ended when the long line turned east. There was no more speculation of joining with Stonewall Jackson. It was now clear McClellan’s flank was their objective.
“By jove! We’re finally going to get a crack at those Yankees!” the man nearest Robert exclaimed.
“I knew that’s where we were headed,” another said firmly. “It’s high time we got to meet them head on.”
“Son-in-law against father-in-law,” another said laughing. “This should be some show.”
That caught Robert’s attention. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t know?” the soldier said, still laughing. “General Cooke is the commander of the Union cavalry. Our General Stuart is his son-in-law.”
Robert smiled but didn’t join in the laughter as he once more realized the ironic brutalities of a war that pitted family against family.
“Lieutenant Borden! General Stuart wants you at the front.”
Robert galloped past the long line and joined the other members of Stuart’s staff as they circled around him in the field.
“By now you realize what our objective is. Or at least you have a good guess. General Lee needs information on the strength of McClellan’s right flank. Our job is to get it for him.”
Robert listened intently as Stuart went on to explain they were to push as far as they could, put down any resistance they found, take prisoners if need be, and destroy what they could of supplies. Excitement pulsed through his body as he contemplated what was to come. He was mounted on the finest horse he knew, with a commander he could trust. A quick look around told him the other men felt the same way.
