by Ginny Dye
Captain Jones exchanged a long look with Moses. “Change never happens unless people are willing to stand up to the pressures of making it happen. It’s been an honor to lead the black troops, and it’s something I’ll be proud of for the rest of my life.” Obviously uncomfortable with the emotion shining in his eyes, Captain Jones stood suddenly. “I think you’ve got some men who will be real excited to hear this news. You’d best go share it with them.”
Moses rose, extended his hand, gripped the captain’s for a long moment, and then strode from the tent, his grin growing wider with each step he took. He no longer felt the misery of the cold wind or the hard, frozen ground.
Simon looked up from the fire as Moses drew close. “That’s a mighty big grin. I’m hoping you got some good news that will warm these men up.”
Moses raised his voice until he almost bellowed, wanting his voice to carry over the wind to his men. “The amendment to abolish slavery passed today!” He raised his fist in triumph and shouted. “Slavery is dead!”
Shocked silence fell on his men for several moments. Then their victory yell rose and soared through the cold air - the sound, no doubt, carried by the spirits of dead slaves who had hoped and prayed for a moment such as this.
The cold forgotten, his men jumped, danced, and sang. Smiling hugely, Moses watched them. From slaves to soldiers, these men had given their lives – first because others believed they could own and oppress humans, and last because these men willingly fought, sometimes suffering great loss, to earn freedom. The cold would settle back into their bones, but the news had lit a fire in their hearts that no bitter cold could diminish.
Carrie had already heard the news before she got home. She and Janie had celebrated on their way down the hill from the hospital, but she was prepared for whatever reaction her father might have. She knew how far he had come in regard to his feelings about slavery, but certainly he realized this was one more step toward the complete demise of the Confederacy.
Janie, as usual, read her mind. “How will your father take this?”
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t know, but personal feelings don’t really matter at this point. The war will end, and when it does every black person in this country will be free.” The smile on her face widened as she imagined Rose and Moses’ reaction to the news. It split into a grin when she thought of Aunt Abby and all she had done to make it possible. “I can be nothing but happy about it.”
“What do you think things will be like?” Janie asked seriously. “When the war is over?” She gazed out over the snow-covered city. “I know we’re going to lose. What will life be like then?”
Carrie sobered at the question. She had wondered the same thing many times. After almost four years of giving everything for the effort, what would the people of the South do? How would President Lincoln and the North handle things? “President Lincoln seems to be a reasonable man.”
Janie stared at her, bemused. “And you would know this how?”
Carrie shrugged, realizing she really didn’t have much of a basis for her opinion. Communication had been so limited during the war. “I don’t,” she admitted. “I guess I’m just hoping. The North is focused one hundred percent on winning the war. I can only hope they have a plan as powerful for how they’re going to put the country back together again.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, both lost in their thoughts.
Thomas and Jeremy were standing by the fire when they walked in. One look at her father told her he was not handling the news well. She exchanged a long look with Jeremy and walked over to put a hand on her father’s arm, but she said nothing.
“You’ve heard the news,” Thomas said heavily.
“Yes.”
“And you’re happy, of course.”
Carrie saw no reason to lie. “Yes. It’s time,” she said gently.
Her father jerked his head to stare at her and then nodded abruptly. “I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much. I know I’ve already lost everything.”
Carrie’s heart ached at the bewildered look on his lined face. He had lost so much already. “It’s just one more thing.”
“Yes. It’s just one more thing,” he agreed absently. He turned to stare into the flames. “It’s funny, though… I feel sad, but I don’t feel bitter. I suppose resigned is the best word for it.”
Carrie felt relief flow into her heart.
“I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that living life as it comes will reveal that.” Thomas looked up from the flames, his eyes grim. “Richmond won’t survive, you know,” he said sadly.
Carrie stared at him, alarmed by what she saw in his eyes. “What do you mean? The Union troops didn’t destroy Savannah when they took it.”
“No, but neither did Savannah defy their efforts for almost four years. The mayor rode out and gave the city to them,” Thomas said, “but that’s not what I’m referring to.” He paused, obviously trying to choose his words carefully. “I was in a meeting today about what will happen if the city falls.”
“And…?” Carrie asked, breathing deeply against the dread trying to infiltrate her earlier happiness.
“Government officials will destroy sections of the city,” he said heavily. “All the arsenals. Tredegar Ironworks. All the warehouses down by the river. Some of the bridges.”
Carrie gasped, her reaction echoed by Janie and Jeremy. “The entire city will burn,” she whispered, her mind spinning. “Why have we fought so long to keep it if we’re going to destroy it ourselves?” She tried to make sense of it.
Thomas turned to stare at the flames again. “The Confederate government will evacuate the city and move to a place they can continue to operate from. The officials feel they can’t just hand over everything here in Richmond.”
“Continue to operate so more men can die?” Carrie asked angrily, suddenly more sick of the war than she had ever been. She had almost looked forward to the fall of Richmond and was hopeful it would mean the end to the suffering.
“You think we should give up?” Thomas asked sharply.
Carrie took a deep breath and fought to speak calmly. “It’s over, Father. We may hold on for a while longer, but it’s over.” She was tired of holding her thoughts inside. “The only thing that will happen now is that more people will die trying to stop the inevitable. For what purpose?” She turned to gaze in the direction of Petersburg. “Thousands of our men are out there right now. Robert. Hobbs. Georgia.” Her mind filled with memories of all the soldiers she had treated and returned to battle. “They’re freezing and starving, and many more will die this winter as we make a futile attempt to stop an avalanche.”
Thomas stared at her. Carrie met his gaze levelly. She was no longer a girl. She was a woman who had grown from hardship. A woman who had sacrificed and matured through suffering, and had supported the efforts of a war she didn’t believe in. She was done being quiet.
The only sound in the room was the explosion of sparks from the logs. Thomas finally walked over and sank down into his chair, his hands hanging between his knees as his shoulders slumped.
Carrie’s heart swelled with tenderness, but she waited for him to speak.
“What I believe, or don’t believe, doesn’t matter,” he finally said hoarsely. “Richmond will not survive if it falls. The only thing standing between us and certain destruction is those men in the trenches. When they can no longer hold it, the government will leave.” He took a deep breath. “I have been ordered to evacuate with them.” He ignored Carrie’s gasp and continued. “I want you and Jeremy to join me.” He looked over at Janie. “I hope you and Clifford will come, too, but that will be your choice.”
Carrie let the sound of snapping logs fill the air for a long moment before she walked over to take her father’s hand. “And it is my choice to stay here in Richmond and wait for Robert. No matter what happens, I will be here, caring for the soldiers that will surely continue to come.”
Thomas stared
up at her, agony swelling in his tortured eyes. “I knew you would say that.” His eyes sank to his hands again, and then he looked up at Jeremy.
Jeremy shook his head quietly. “For now, I believe it’s my place to stay in Richmond. At some point, Thomas, Richmond will have to rebuild. The city will need both of us. I believe you’ll return. When you do, I’ll be here.”
Carrie knelt down in front of her father and gazed up into his eyes with love swelling in her heart. “I love you so much. The immediate future will not be much easier than the present, but somehow we will survive it.”
Thomas stared at her silently, his tortured look saying he couldn’t find the truth in what she said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Carrie snapped her head up as she heard the rumble of wagon wheels coming up the hill to the hospital. She’d not heard the guns of battle, so it could only mean more soldiers falling victim to the horrible conditions in the trenches. She took deep, calming breaths as she looked up and locked eyes with Dr. Wild. He reached the door at the same time she did. They stepped out together, closing the door quickly to preserve the precious heat.
Carrie wrapped her coat around her body tightly, turning slightly to allow the hospital barrack to shelter her from the worst of the punishing wind. Frozen tree branches clattered like a symphony of drum beats as thick clouds pressed down heavily on everything like the somber sound of a bass tuba. Deep banks of snow pressed against all the wards, narrow paths fingering out like the strands of a spider web.
“Will this winter never end?” she asked. “More snow is coming, and the temperatures keep dropping.” She scowled as she watched the line of wagons making their way up the hill slick with ice. “I dread what’s coming in those wagons,” she admitted quietly, only acknowledging to herself how much she feared she would find Robert in one of them.
Dr. Wild nodded soberly, even his cheerful eyes now dull with the weight of the constant suffering with no end. “It’s going to be bad, Carrie.”
Carrie whipped her head around to stare at him. “What is it?” She reached out to grab his arm when he looked away. “How can it be worse than what we’ve already dealt with?” Vivid memories of amputated limbs and hideous wounds filled her mind.
“This is different,” Dr. Wild muttered, angry disgust twisting his face. “This is our fault. We can’t blame the Union army that we have our men in conditions no human being should live in.”
Carrie watched him, knowing he had made a trip out to the Petersburg trenches the week before. Although he had not said a word about it when he returned, anger had simmered in him ever since. He’d just shaken his head when she asked him about it.
“I shouldn’t have to amputate because we can’t put warm shoes and clothes on our soldiers,” he snapped.
Carrie gasped but didn’t have time to respond as the first wagon stopped in front of their door. She stepped back as men sprang forward to carry the soldiers into the ward. She caught a vision of white, wooden faces but had to wait until the last soldier lay in a bed before she began her examinations.
Her first patient was a middle-aged man with stringy brown hair and dull brown eyes crusted almost shut. He was barely breathing, his face white and hard looking. She reached out gently to touch it and almost jerked her hand back at the hard wooden feeling of his skin. He opened his eyes a mere slit and moaned.
“You’re in the hospital,” Carrie said gently. “You will be taken care of.”
“Too late,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and sank into unconsciousness.
Dr. Wild appeared at her side and motioned for her to pull the blankets away from her patient’s feet. Carrie barely bit back her cry of dismay as she stared down at his solidly frozen feet. They looked like wood that had taken on a bluish-gray discoloration. She looked up in horror at Dr. Wild and then looked down the row of twenty-five soldiers who had been deposited in their ward. She knew at least two hundred men had been in the wagons. “All of them?” she whispered, her voice shaking.
Dr. Wild gazed back at her grimly. “All of them.” He kept his voice low so that no one else could hear. “I told them last week that these men needed to be in the hospital. If the army had listened to me when these men had superficial frostbite, we might have saved some limbs. Instead, they waited until the soldiers were incapable of walking.”
“We can’t save his feet?” Carrie thought she would be sick. She suddenly understood Dr. Wild’s anger since he had returned.
“No. In cases of deep frostbite, it’s not just the skin and subcutaneous tissue that are frozen. Nerves, large blood vessels, tendons, and bones are also frozen solid. There is nothing we can do to save them. If we do nothing, his feet will turn black with gangrene, infect his entire body, and kill him.”
“But both his feet,” Carrie asked breathlessly. “What kind of life will he have?”
“That is always the question in situations like this,” Dr. Wild admitted heavily. “Our only other choice is to let him die.” He brushed a hand over his eyes. “It might be the kindest thing, but it’s not our decision to make. The odds are,” he added gruffly, “that he won’t make it anyway, but we have to try.”
Carrie gazed down the row of soldiers and straightened her shoulders. “Let’s get started.” She had learned that endless activity was preferable to imagining the lives these soldiers would live – if they lived.
The day passed in a haze of endless surgeries. Carrie let her mind drift into numbness as the pile of amputated feet, toes, hands, and lower arms grew outside the tent. She tried to be thankful the cold and ice would keep them from attracting swarms of flies, but she could feel nothing except befuddled disbelief.
The first man had indeed lost both his feet as well as the fingers on his left hand. Everyone who had been brought in lost at least one foot, with a few amputations up to the knee. If these patients lived, they would probably lose more limbs to infection and gangrene, but doctors and staff would at least try to save some of them by doing a slow defrost. Orderlies moved up and down the rows with buckets of cool water in an effort to bring frozen limbs back to life.
Carrie was shaking with fatigue and anger by the end of the day. She stepped outside after they finished with the last patient, grateful for the harsh, roaring wind that swept air into her depleted lungs and mind. She stood silently, trying to close out the horrific memories. Dr. Wild was right; this was worse.
Her anger burned hotter as she thought of the thousands of men likely to experience the same fate as the men now lying in the ward; only because they had no shoes and warm socks to wear while they huddled in those frozen trenches hour after hour, day after day.
“Mrs. Borden!”
Carrie spun around and ducked back inside the barracks when she heard an orderly call her name. “I’m here.”
“The patient down in bed four is asking for you,” the orderly said gravely.
Carrie nodded and made her way down the aisle, grateful most of the men were still unconscious. The patient in bed number four was barely out of his teens. Filthy blond hair was plastered to his dirty scalp. His starved body looked very much like a skeleton. “Hello, soldier,” she said gently, pushing back her anger in order to give him all her compassion.
“Howdy, ma’am,” he gasped. He reached out and grabbed her hand. “How bad is it?”
Carrie stroked his hair back and motioned for the orderly to bring her some warm water so she could clean his face. “You focus on getting better,” she urged. She held a cup of water to his lips. “Here, drink this.”
The soldier drank thirstily but didn’t take his burning eyes off her. “Please. I need to know. How bad is it?”
Carrie frowned, searching for words.
“I can take it,” he insisted. “I need to know.”
“We had to take off your right foot, all the toes but your little one on the left foot, and three of the fingers on your left hand,” she finally said softly, stunned when she saw a look of relief flood into his eyes
.
He closed his eyes for a long moment and then opened them again to stare at her. “Is it crazy that I’m glad?” he whispered hoarsely.
Understanding flooded her mind, and Carrie stared back at him. “It must be horrible out there,” she finally murmured, her stomach twisting.
“Yes, ma’am, I reckon it is,” he said as a shudder convulsed his body. “If I had to lose a foot, some toes, and fingers to get out of there, I guess I see it as an even trade.” Suddenly his eyes sharpened. “You ain’t gonna send me back out there, are you?”
“Absolutely not,” Carrie said firmly. “What’s your name, soldier?”
“Jasper. Jasper Appleton.”
Carrie looked at him more closely. Even through his starvation and filth, she could see a resemblance. “Appleton? Do you know Perry Appleton?”
A smile flitted across his face. “Perry is my big brother. I ain’t seen him for the last year. I heard he lost a leg and got to go home,” he said enviously.
Carrie was amazed anyone could be envious of someone’s losing a leg, but suddenly she understood in a way she never had before just how horrible this war was for these men.
“Perry was my patient,” she told him. “He’s married now to my friend, Louisa. I was matron of honor at their wedding, right here in this hospital ward.”
That was enough to evoke a real smile, however weak. “Right here? Me and Perry ended up in the same place?” Jasper gazed around the ward. “Did Perry go back home?”
“I know that was the plan,” Carrie said. “I’m afraid the lack of communication has kept me from getting any news.”
“Perry had himself a right nice little farm down in Georgia. He bought the land close to our parents’ right before our mama and daddy died, a couple years before the war started. He had some big plans for that place.”
“And how about you, Jasper?”
“I always figured I would be a farmer,” he admitted and locked his eyes on her face. “I aimed on going back home and taking over my parent’s place. You reckon I can do that now?”
