The Last, Long Night

by Ginny Dye

  How long before there was no one else to protect Richmond? How long before the entire army was destroyed?

  He could only hope Grant would pull his troops back and give them a chance to lick their wounds.

  Working their way around piles of dead bodies, Matthew and Peter walked grim-faced through the bloody fields. Neither had said a word for over an hour; the horror of what they were seeing made words seem pointless.

  Nothing could be said to express it.

  Peter finally stopped, took several deep breaths, and turned to Matthew.

  “What will happen now?” he asked hoarsely.

  Matthew stared at him with bloodshot eyes and wiped a hand across his dust-caked face. “Grant received a message yesterday from one of his officers that Lee was at it again; that Lee would beat our troops in the wilderness just as Stonewall Jackson did last year.”

  Peter stared at him and waited for the rest.

  “Grant told the officer who brought him the news that he was heartily tired of hearing what Lee is doing. He said that some of them tremble, thinking Lee will suddenly turn a double somersault and land on our rear as well as on both our flanks at the same time. Grant ordered the officer to go back to his command and devise his own plan, instead of quaking over what Lee would do.”

  “So you don’t think he’ll pull back?”

  Matthew shook his head. “I’ve been studying Grant since I got out of prison. I also heard of his promise to President Lincoln that there would be no turning back in this campaign. He will not repeat the mistakes of the generals who came before him.”

  “But so many of our troops have been killed in this battle,” Peter protested. “It has to be close to 20,000 men!”

  Matthew’s face was white and set as he shrugged his shoulders. “Grant is known as The Butcher. There is a reason he has that nickname,” he said grimly. “He figures mathematics are on his side.”

  “Mathematics?” Peter echoed.

  “The more men he loses, the more men Lee will lose. We have more men to lose. The numbers are all on our side,” Matthew said hoarsely as they stepped around another blackened and bloated pile of Union and Confederate soldiers twined together – united in death.

  “So he continues to sacrifice men because he has more of them?” Peter shook his head in disbelief.

  Matthew nodded his head heavily. “He has already started moving men southeast, heading for Spotsylvania Courthouse. It’s not over.”

  Carrie pushed back her hair and wiped at the perspiration streaming down her face. Her ward was completely full. She was taking a few minutes in between assisting Dr. Wild in surgery to check on some of the patients. “Hobbs! Bring this soldier some water.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Carrie gazed down at the man who stared up at her, his face flushed with fever. His bandaged right arm revealed where his limb had been removed that morning, above the elbow. He had finally woken up, but now the pain would set in with a vengeance. “You’re welcome,” she said gently.

  “I reckon I’m glad I didn’t lose a leg,” he whispered through clenched teeth. “I think I can still handle a plow with one arm, at least with my kids helping me.”

  “You have children?” Carrie knew talking would help him keep his mind off the pain.

  “Yes, ma’am. I got four kids down on the farm in Alabama. They’re being a big help to their mama right now. My oldest boy is just twelve.” He paused and then gasped as a bolt of pain shot across his face. “I pray to God he won’t have to fight this war.”

  Carrie reached for his hand and held the glass of water to his lips. “I’m praying the same thing, soldier.”

  He took several gulps of water and then passed out from the pain. Carrie eased him back down. It was better this way. She hoped he would sleep for a long time because he would only waken to more pain.

  The thing that amazed her, though, as she gazed across the ward was the difference three years of war had brought. Though there were horribly wounded men filling the beds, she had heard very little complaining. These were hardened soldiers, not fresh-faced boys off the farms who thought the war would be a lark and they would laugh as the soft boys of the North ran back to their easy factory jobs.

  “You reckon you can get me back out on the field again soon?” one of them asked, reaching for her arm. “The general needs me.”

  Carrie looked down at the soldier, a delicate-featured young boy. He was either a new recruit or one of the soldiers who had lied about his age when the war started. He could hardly be sixteen. “What’s your name, soldier?”

  “George Frasier, ma’am.”

  Carrie looked at the soldier closely. There was something not quite right. Then she pulled in her thoughts, knowing it had been a long day, and smiled. “I know you’ve had to wait a while, but the surgeon will see you soon.” She pulled back the bandage and examined his arm. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to save it.”

  “I know other fellas were hurt a lot worse than me,” George said, trying to sound casual through his pain. “I don’t really reckon I need a surgeon. Why don’t you just bandage it up for me, and I can head on back to camp.”

  Carrie stared down at him. “I don’t think so,” she responded firmly, wondering at the fear stamped on the soldier’s face. It seemed to be about more than just his arm.

  George seemed to struggle with something, gazed around to make sure the soldiers in surrounding beds were either asleep or occupied, and then beckoned Carrie closer.

  Mystified, Carrie leaned down.

  “I can’t go in there to that surgeon’s tent,” George whispered, his blue eyes opening wide. “They’ll find out.”

  “Find out what?”

  George hesitated a long minute and then cursed quietly. “I should have known I wouldn’t make it all the way through the war, but I’ve managed it for almost three years,” he said proudly.

  Now Carrie was thoroughly confused. “Managed what?” she demanded.

  George looked around again and then lowered his voice even more. “My name is not really George. It’s Georgia.”

  Carrie stared at him, completely speechless, for a long minute. She had known something wasn’t quite right. She finally found her voice. “You’re a woman?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  George… Georgia nodded wearily. “I can’t go into that operating room. They’ll find out.”

  Carrie stared at him… her, took a deep breath, and struggled for words. She would deal with the reality of a woman soldier later; right now she had a patient to save.

  “If you don’t go into the operating room, you’re likely to come down with a raging infection, and then you can be quite sure you will lose that arm,” Carrie said crisply. “Is that what you want?”

  Georgia shrugged. “I don’t know that it really matters. I ain’t got anything to go back to.” Bitter sorrow shone in her eyes before she turned her head away.

  Carrie’s heart caught at the sheer misery she saw on Georgia’s face. The most important thing a patient needed was hope. She thought quickly and then leaned down to speak quietly.

  “We’ll hold your examination for last. Dr. Wild is a close friend of mine. We will keep your secret.”

  Georgia stared up into her face. “Why would…?” She stopped, obviously at a loss for words.

  “Let’s just say I know what it’s like to be a woman going against what everyone expects of her,” Carrie responded with a slight smile. She knew from the sheen on Georgia’s face that her fever was rising. She would keep the soldier’s secret, but she knew Georgia needed help soon.

  Dr. Wild looked at her in astonishment. “George is really a woman?” He shook his head. “How…?”

  “I don’t know,” Carrie replied. “Today wasn’t the time to find out how she managed to enlist in the army. Now is not the time, either. Her fever has risen all day, but she was so desperate to keep her secret. I promised her…”

  “And now that everyone else is gone,
you and I can take care of her,” Dr. Wild finished.

  Carrie shrugged, knowing Dr. Wild was as exhausted as she was. “Something like that,” she admitted, forcing a smile.

  Dr. Wild stared at her for a long moment and then grinned tiredly. “Life is never boring with you around,” he stated. “Let’s bring her in.”

  Carrie gasped her relief and motioned for Hobbs and another man to carry the remaining soldier into the operating room. She could tell by the look on Hobbs’ face that he knew something was going on, but she also knew he wouldn’t ask.

  Once the curtains had closed around them, they went to work. Carrie cut away the shirt that was shredded on Georgia’s arm, and winced at the angry red fingers of infection that had grown during the long, hot day. “It’s infected.”

  Dr. Wild nodded grimly. “I don’t know whether we can save it. If I’d seen her earlier…”

  “Her secret is evidently more important than her arm,” Carrie whispered helplessly. “We have to at least try.”

  Dr. Wild exchanged a long look with her. “She ended up with the right person,” he finally said. “I bet her story is as good as yours is!”

  Carrie grinned. “I have a feeling you’re right.” She knew if anyone could save Georgia’s arm, Dr. Wild could.

  Silence fell on the operating room as they worked.

  Thomas met Carrie at the door of the house. “I was so worried. I expected you to be late, but not this late!” He grabbed her close. “Janie was home hours ago.”

  Carrie nodded, relaxed into his warm embrace for a moment, and then moved back. “We had one final surgery.” Then she stepped outside and beckoned to Hobbs.

  Thomas watched in speechless astonishment as Hobbs, along with another orderly, clumped up the

  stairs carrying a stretcher.

  “Take her up to my room,” Carrie said quietly. “Put her in my bed.”

  Thomas stared after the stretcher. “Her?” he asked. “I thought civilians were being treated in other hospitals.”

  “They are,” Carrie said simply.

  “But…”

  Carrie stepped forward and grasped her father’s hands; she was glad Janie had just appeared on the steps and would also hear her. “I didn’t have time to find out her story, but Georgia is a soldier and has been fighting with our men for almost three years. She goes under the name of George.”

  “How in God’s name..?” Thomas demanded.

  Carrie interrupted him. “I just don’t know. I do know I promised to keep her secret, and I do know Dr. Wild and I were able to save her arm. I also know she needs a place to recuperate, and I know I didn’t know where else to take her.” Her voice had risen with weary desperation.

  Janie joined her then. “You brought her to the right place, Carrie. We’ll take care of her, and May can help when we’re at the hospital.”

  Thomas just nodded helplessly. “I suppose….”

  Carrie kissed his cheek warmly. “Thank you.”

  Thomas shook his head now as he stared up at the staircase to Carrie’s room. “Things are never boring….”

  Carrie managed a slight grin. “That’s what Dr. Wild said, too.”

  That earned a slight chuckle from her father. “I imagine he did.”

  As Carrie turned to climb the stairs, she turned back to her father. “I can tell by your face that things went very badly today. I can’t take any more bad news tonight. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

  She kissed him again and followed the stretcher to her room. Once she was satisfied Georgia was sleeping soundly, she moved to where Janie was curled on the window seat taking advantage of the slight breeze that brought welcome coolness.

  Janie grasped her hand as Carrie rested her forehead on the window and stared north.

  Neither said a word as Carrie sent all her love flying to Robert.

  Chapter Six

  Carrie and Janie were too exhausted to talk as they trudged down the long hill, thankful for the evening rain that had cleansed some of the awful smoke permeating everything in the capital.

  For the first time in a week, there seemed to be a lull in the barrage of constant gunfire before darkness swallowed the battlefields. There had been no such lull in the flow of hideously wounded soldiers streaming into the city with many of them coming to Chimborazo.

  Both of the women worked heroically when they were in their hospital ward, but whenever the two left Chimborazo, they allowed their exhaustion to numb the horror. Both chose to neither think nor feel. They walked home, ate a simple meal, crawled into bed, and then repeated the routine the next day. It was the only way Carrie and Janie knew to survive it.

  Carrie did allow her mind to travel down the hill to where Georgia still lay. She had not woken for more than brief moments in the week she had lain in her bed. May had been with her each time - giving her a small sip of water before she lapsed back into unconsciousness. “Georgia should be awake,” she muttered, frowning.

  “Perhaps she doesn’t want to be awake,” Janie said tiredly. “Who can blame her?”

  Carrie nodded, thinking back to the complete misery stamped on the woman’s face when she said she didn’t have anything to live for. She was more struck, however, by the defeat in Janie’s voice.

  Carrie reached down and grabbed her hand. “Every day has been awful, but did something especially awful happen today?”

  Janie turned bleak eyes to stare at Carrie, and then her face dissolved into tears. “I don’t know how much more I can take,” she whispered.

  Carrie stopped walking and took Janie’s hands gently, but didn’t say anything. She knew the emotions needed to come. Janie was always her strength, but even Janie had her limits.

  They stood for several long minutes before Janie took a deep breath and wiped away the tears. “It was nothing in particular,” she said slowly. “It has just all added up. I thought the hospital had been crowded before.” Janie shook her head. “It’s nothing like now. Every bed is full, but so is every floor space. And I just can’t keep them off…” Her face twisted with revulsion.

  “Keep them off?” As soon as Carrie asked the question, she knew the answer.

  “The rats,” Janie whispered, not able to control the shudder. “We can keep them at bay during the day, but they come up at night. They chewed right through the bandages of several of the men on the floor last night.” Tears filled her eyes again. “Every time I close my eyes I see it… think about it. Those poor men.”

  Carrie nodded heavily, bile rising in her throat. She still dreamed of working in a hospital that was clean and sanitary, but she almost couldn’t imagine it anymore. Overcrowding… shortages of medical supplies… many drugs not available at all… just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, it got more horrible than even she could have imagined. What amazed her was that with all the disadvantages, Chimborazo lost only about ten percent of its patients. Vast numbers would never live the life they had known, but they still had a life to live.

  Suddenly Janie gasped, grabbed Carrie’s shoulders, and turned her to the east. The setting sun, glimmering through the remnants of the squall, had painted a glorious rainbow across the sky. It seemed to stretch over the entire battlefield hiding behind the waves of forest.

  “Oh, my,” Carrie whispered, her eyes absorbing the sight, her soul drinking in the hope it held out to her.

  “God is still God,” Janie whispered. “He can still create rainbows.” Hope trembled in her voice as the pain etched on her face eased.

  Carrie grasped Janie’s hand more tightly and watched silently until the rainbow started to fade. All around them, people had stopped to do the same. Rainbows had always been little miracles to her; even after she understood the science behind their existence it didn’t erase the magic for her.

  “Robert is still alive,” she whispered suddenly, a light bursting into her heart.

  “I know,” Janie agreed. “He hasn’t been on any of the lists.”

  Carri
e shook her head. “No. The rainbow… it’s a sign. He’s still alive. I know it.” She took long breaths as a deep knowing filled her heart with renewed strength and courage. Then she turned to Janie. “More horrible things will happen, but it’s going to end,” she said urgently.

  Janie stared at her, obviously at a loss for words. “Carrie…?”

  “This war has been like an unending night of utter darkness. But God is still God – just like you said, Janie.” Carrie stared at the last remnants of the rainbow. “The night always ends. God always shines light into the darkness. Always.” Her own hope took wing and soared as she spoke. “This year will be an awful last, long night, but it will end. We have to hold on to that!”

  Janie stared at her then turned to watch as the rainbow disappeared. She took a deep breath and shifted so she could watch the golden orb of the sun slip beneath fluffy, purple clouds perched on the horizon. Finally she nodded. “You’re right,” Janie said softly. “It will end. Nothing lasts forever – neither the good nor the bad.”

  Carrie smiled. “That’s what Old Sarah used to tell me. That no matter how bad something was it wouldn’t last forever. And that no matter how good something was, it wouldn’t last forever. She told me I had to endure the bad times but suck all the goodness and joy I could from the good times.”

  “Is it okay that I can hardly wait for the good times to start again?” Janie asked; her voice breaking.

  “I think we would both be absolute idiots if we didn’t feel that way,” Carrie said with a small laugh. “I know one thing for sure,” she said as she wrapped Janie in a hug. “You’re one of the best things in my life, and I intend to make the most of every single moment we have together!”

  Janie grabbed her hand, laughed softly, and then turned to swing back down the hill. “Let’s go have some dinner!”

  Neither said a word when the sound of battle once more lifted over the trees.