Echoes of Dark and Light

by Chris Shanley-Dillman

  Yes, I do. I needed someone to pop my shoulder back into place. But a doctor would probably insist on me removing my shirt to get a better look at the damage. Obviously, that couldn’t be an option. “I need to see Nurse Davis.”

  “Well, sorry Private, but that’s just not possible right now. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a major mess? Nurse Davis is busy assisting her father. Besides, you’re not the only soldier boy drooling over Nurse Davis; she can’t just go around and divvy out special attentions to every lonely man.”

  I’d just about reached my limit for one horrid day. I took Toby’s approach and grabbed him by the collar. “Just go get her!”

  I found a crate out of the way and took a seat, my eyes pinned on Randy’s lifeless body. For some reason, I didn’t feel the same horror at having killed this man, as I did with my first. I desperately hoped it wasn’t because I was getting used to it.

  God, in all of this confusion, please don’t let me ever become casual over death, especially one that I caused.

  “Hey, you! Leave him be,” I hollered at a soldier who’d begun to move Randy. “Arrangements are being made; he’s kin.”

  The soldier nodded and moved on, not too surprised at my defense. Having relatives on the other side happed more often than one might think. Once in a while, soldiers came face to face with cousins, brothers, uncles and even best friends. I wondered about the outcome of those other impossible dilemmas. Did they turn and walk away, or shoot each other? I guessed it depended on the situation. I suspected Randy had been fighting for too long. The crazy glint in his eye, the way he failed to recognize Toby, the way his hands shook when aiming the rifle. Hate had eaten away at Randy’s insides, leaving him not quite whole. Maybe in another place, another time, Randy would have walked away, but not today. If I hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed Toby. Maybe that’s why I felt so few regrets. It came down to Toby or Randy, and Toby had to live because—

  “Bobbi!”

  Cora ran down the crowded aisle and threw her arms around me in an excruciating bear hug. I shrieked in pain and she immediately pulled away, reverting naturally back into her nursing role.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  Embarrassed from my screech of pain, I tried a reassuring smile, but it came out more of a grimace. “Popped my shoulder out of joint again. Think you can fix it?”

  Her worried brows relaxed a fraction. “That’s not too bad then—”

  “Not too bad? Sure hurts like h—”

  “—and it’s completely fixable, unlike that poor bloke over there,” she said ignoring my interruption.

  I glanced at Randy, and my heart dropped again.

  “What? Did you know him?”

  I shook my head. “No, but Toby did. His brother. And I killed him.”

  “Oh, my.”

  I told her what happened as she gently examined my shoulder. Then, without warning, she swiftly popped it back into place. I just barely kept from howling in surprise and pain. But once back in place, it felt a tad better.

  “There,” Cora said, offering a tired smile, “now that can begin to heal. But it sounds like fixing your relationship with Toby may take some work.”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t see the look in his eye when I pulled the trigger. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.”

  “Oh, he’ll forgive you, and one day he’ll even thank you for saving his life. But it will take time. It took quite a bit of courage to stand up for his beliefs against his entire family. And now he’s feeling not only sadness at his brother’s death, but also guilt for choosing a separate path. However, Toby has a good heart and he’ll come around. He knows who’s important in his life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Listen, if you think you’ll be okay, I need to get back to work. You can drink some willow bark tea for the pain, and try to get some rest.”

  I shook my head. “No, I need to return to my infantry; they need me—”

  “They don’t need you getting killed. Now these are direct orders from a medical nurse: you are to rest for a few days, at least! Preferably a few weeks, but I know the futility of that order. If you can’t sit still in your tent, you may stay here and help out with some light duties, like handing me bandages and such.”

  I tried to protest further, but she held up a warning finger to silence me. “Don’t push it, private! I have the authority to ground you and I will do it!”

  I sincerely believed her. So I would humor her and rest for a day or two. But then I would return to my place with Toby, whether he acknowledged my existence or not.

  I complied with Cora’s orders for a short while, not that I had a whole lot of choice in the matter. My bruised and battered body slept for almost nineteen hours straight. When I finally awoke in the wee hours of May 8th, I somehow managed to wrap my sore arm in a sling and wove my way through the congestion back to the hospital tent. I arrived just as a new wave of wounded flooded the clearing. I scanned the shadowy faces until I spotted Cora, and I hurried to join her. Cora’s pretty face looked pale and drawn; half circles darkened the skin beneath her tired eyes. I wondered if she’d gotten any rest. Guilt burned at the back of my mind for my dip into oblivion, but nothing could be done for it now, except to help Cora in any way she needed.

  She greeted me with a tired but genuine smile, handed me a box of bandages and motioned for me to follow her. For hours, I helped clean wounds, bandage holes left from musket balls, offered sips of water, and held trembling hands. After the last patient had been patched up, I convinced Cora to lie down for a few minutes.

  “Really Cora, if you don’t get some rest, you’ll collapse. Then what good would you be to your patients? They need you alert and rested to take the best care of them.” I knew that last part wavered on the dirty side of tricks, but it rang true enough. And if it worked and convinced Cora to rest, then all the better.

  Cora sighed, barely able to hold her eyes opened. “Okay, I’ll lie down, but only for a minute. You’ll wake me the second someone needs me?”

  I nodded, knowing her definition and mine differed on the word ‘need’, and that I’d stick to my definition, at least for a few hours. After I made sure she had laid down, tucking her in with a light wool blanket, I returned to the hospital tent to do anything I could to make the soldiers more comfortable. I needed to do something. Already guilt chewed at my gut for hanging out at the hospital, fed, rested and safe, while the 27th faced the dangers and deaths of the front line. I’d give myself another few hours to rest my shoulder, then I would leave. The guys needed me.

  Carrying a jug of water, I made my way around the tent. And, as long as a soldier seemed relatively coherent, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask him about my brother in the process.

  “Hey, soldier, thirsty?” I held up the water jug in case his hearing had been damaged.

  The weary fellow nodded, and I held a tin cup while he gulped down the liquid. As he nodded his thanks, I asked him if he’d seen Robert. He shook his head, and I swallowed a lump of disappointment, moving on to the next bed. I repeated this procedure over and over with the same results.

  I could hear the fellow in the corner mumbling and moaning before I even got to him. His face flushed with fever, and a faraway glint glazed his open eyes. With my good hand, I poured a cup of water, and then set the pitcher down on the table near his cot. Taking the cup, I carefully approached the writhing patient.

  “Hello, soldier. Care to wet your whistle?”

  The fellow turned to me, a slight smile parting his parched lips. “Ahh, such a lovely sight. I never thought I’d see my pretty Sarah ever again.”

  A seed of unease planted in my belly. I dropped my voice, making it sound lower. “Sorry mister, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

  “My beautiful Sarah, I’ve missed you so. I knew you would come to nurse me back to health. Could you do somethin’ for my leg? It hurts somethin’ fierce.”

  I glanced do
wn and saw his leg amputated mid thigh. The bandage needed changing and a smell of rot emanated from the stump. I turned to go fetch a doctor.

  “Please, Sarah,” he mumbled, clutching at my hand. “Don’t go. I’ve missed ya so. Especially how your soft hair sparkles in the sunshine.”

  Nervously, I glanced around to see if anyone had overheard him. I’d been pulling off my deception so far, but if a seed of doubt got planted in someone’s head, my days of soldering could be numbered. And I couldn’t afford to get kicked out now. Toby needed me; Robert needed me. It appeared this soldier needed someone as well, but it just couldn’t be me. I gently pulled out of the soldier’s grasp to his somewhat loud objections, and quickly left his bedside.

  I found a doctor nearby and pointed out the rambling soldier. Then I quickly went in the other direction, making a metal note to trim my hair.

  I found another pitcher of water and continued my rounds.

  “Hey, bring me some of that there water! What’s a man gotta do to get a drink around here? Don’t supposed you got anything stronger, like whiskey?”

  I raised an eyebrow at the impatient patient and shook my head. “Just water. Want some or not?”

  “Yeah, sure. So, what lucky calamity befell you to get ya off the front lines?”

  “Shoulder dislocation. But I’m heading back soon.”

  “You’re a fool. Milk that shoulder for all it’s worth. Heck, if it’s your trigger finger maybe you could even get moved to the back lines. That’s what I’d do.”

  “Can’t. I need to be with my infantry.”

  “Don’t no one need to be here, ‘cept maybe those government officials in Washington. It’s their war, maybe they should come down here and shoot a couple of rifles instead of sitting on their cushioned rear ends handing out orders.”

  “This is our country’s war. It concerns everyone, whether you like it or not.” I fumbled with the pitcher, almost dumping the contents in his lap.

  “Watch it, kid! This war has already given me an extra hole in my body that I didn’t come into this world with; I don’t need a wet lap and a case of pneumonia to go along with it. And as far as this country is concerned, they can keep their dang war. Soon as I’m able to walk, I’m hightailing it up to Canada and good riddance!”

  “You’ve been discharged then?” I handed him his cup of water, pushing aside the temptation to ‘accidentally’ let it slip into his lap.

  “Hell no! Doc says the hole in my calf will heal up in a few weeks, and in the meantime I’m stuck peeling potatoes with the General’s cook. Then it’s back to the front line, or so they think. But I’m sure I can trust you with my little secret, right?” He elbowed me with a wink.

  I shrugged. Personally, I’d rather not have his attitude with me on the front line. Might be safer for everyone if he did leave.

  “Why are you so keen on staying? You feel it’s a duty thing?”

  I shrugged again, reluctant to share my reasons with this curmudgeon. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him about Robert. “I’m looking for my brother. His name is Robert Rivers, about this tall, red hair—”

  “Who gives a flying leap? Bet my bottle he’s dead and buried, and you’d be smart to get out before you join him.”

  “Robert’s not dead,” I growled, “and I’m going to find him!”

  “Well, whatever gets you through the day,” he said, shaking his head in pity. “But if I were you—”

  “Thank God you’re not. Just forget it.” I turned my back on him and headed for the tent flap with his guttural laughter following me. I’d about had enough of disgruntled soldiering for one day; besides, my shoulder throbbed with each beat of my heart. I’d grab some fresh air and then figure out how to locate the 27th without Cora finding out and squashing my plans with her medical authority. But just as I started to duck under the flap, the sound of my name caught my attention.

  “Bobbi? Bobbi Rivers, is that you?”

  I paused, peering into the shadows. “Oh, Pete, how ya doing?” Pete had just recently joined the 27th.

  “Not so good. Caught one in my calf this morning. Hurts like all get out.”

  I dragged a chair over to his cot. “You still got your leg though; that’s good.”

  “The doc dug the musket ball out and bandaged me up. He says I’ll probably have a limp, but at least I’ll be able to walk, unlike some of the fellows around here.”

  I nodded, remembering some of the guys I’d seen over the past few hours.

  “Speaking of which, we all thought you’d become worm food, disappearing and all like you did.”

  “I got separated, and then ran into a bit of trouble.” I motioned to my slinged arm.

  “Doesn’t look too bad. When Toby returned yesterday without you, his lips shut lighter than a banker’s fist and his face glummer than a boy’s on his first day back to school, we all feared you’d gone to your Maker.”

  My heart jumped a bit. “You’ve seen Toby? Is he okay?”

  “Physically, other than being plum exhausted like the rest of us, he seemed fine. But he sure did have some kind of war of his own going on up in his head. He wouldn’t utter a single word to any of us. Poor Woody’s convinced you’re dead and can hardly see though his teary eyes to shoot at the enemy.”

  My blood warmed with fondness for Woody and his big heart. “Well, I’ll put his mind at ease soon enough, as I’m heading back. Tell me, where are they camped?”

  Pete shook his head. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. Not with your arm out of commission. It’s a huge mess out there. Did you know that General Longstreet got shot by his own men? And the stats are trickling in. The 27th lost 89 men, with estimates of around 18,000 casualties for the Union, and for what? They’re calling the Battle of the Wilderness a draw; we didn’t even win.”

  “Even more reason for me to get back out and help. So tell me Pete, where are they?”

  He sighed. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. As they loaded me up on the ambulance cart, I heard the orders to head towards Chancellorsville. That’s about all I know.”

  “It’s enough; I’ll find them. Thanks Pete.”

  I hurried out of the hospital tent to gather my supplies. As soon as darkness cloaked the roadways, I would set out to join Toby…whether he liked it or not.

  The early morning hours of May 9th greeted me as I crept down the edge of the shadowy road with my Colt loaded and ready in my hand. I’d left my rifle behind, not being much use with only one working arm. Chancellorsville loomed close, so I should encounter the 27th soon. No manmade sounds reached my ears, so the armies must have bunked down for the moment. But I kept every sense wide awake and alert; ears pricked for a footstep or a gun cocked, eyes peeled for movement in the trees, nose posed to catch the slightest whiff of gunpowder or body odor, mouth positioned to taste any fear or hatred riding on the breeze, nerve endings popping as my fingers curled ready and waiting around my Colt.

  The miles between me and the 27th had left plenty of time for my mind to ponder the past couple of days. I kept reviewing the events leading up to Randy’s death, to Toby’s stone-cold eyes and red-hot words. Each time a slice of pain seared my heart, and I battered my brain on what I could have done different. But each time I came up with the same conclusion. If I hadn’t shot Randy, he would have killed Toby. If only my aim had been truer, maybe Randy would be recovering at home instead of lying cold and stiff in a pine box. And Toby wouldn’t hate me. That’s the part that hurt worst of all, the part that really stuck me in a quagmire. I’d never cared before what others thought about me. Sure, I’d finally accepted him as a friend; I couldn’t help it. How could I refuse those kind brown eyes, his contagious laugh, his sparking spirit. Of course, I couldn’t let myself trust him completely; I only gifted that to my grandmother, brothers, Emma and God. So this strange affection I’d developed for my tent mate really had me stuck. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t want to deal with it. Why couldn’t Toby just stay at arm’s rea
ch like Woody and Kenny and Preacher? Why did he insist on prying into my head and heart? Maybe I should be glad that Toby hated me. It’d be one less distraction. Of course, I would still watch his back, even if he refused to watch mine, or worse, could care less.

  I estimated it to be nearing four a.m. when I finally caught up to the army. I slipped into the back of the infantry mass unnoticed, as they began lining up on the road. I wove through the soldiers, searching for a familiar face, listening for a name or a voice that would tell me I’d found my guys.

  “Hey, you! What are you doing here?”

  I instinctively saluted the sergeant, my heart dropping with the expectation of being sent back to the hospital.

  “Ninth Corp, right?” He motioned to the badge on my cap.

  I nodded.

  “They’re up front with General Wilcox. If you hustle, you can probably catch up to them.”

  I saluted again and took off at a jog before he got a better look at me and saw my arm in a sling. Hmm, maybe these Corp badges did work after all. My spirits perked up at the chance to see Toby again, but I quickly pushed those feelings aside. I had more important things to worry about, like if Toby had changed his mind about putting his own gun to my heart. That and the ensuing battle that waited for us.

  It wasn’t unusual for a soldier to step out of line to find a friendly tree or to rewrap a blistered heel. So, the marching soldiers I jogged past hardly spared me a glance. My shoulder had begun to really complain by the time I caught up with the 27th. I pushed the pain aside and scanned the marching men for the captain. I resisted the urge to run straight to Toby. Instead I spotted the captain astride his war-worn horse, and hurried up to him.

  “Captain!” I saluted. “Private Rivers reporting for duty, sir!”

  A look of surprise flashed across his face as he peered down at me in the dawning light. A look of relief followed, and then quickly disappeared to be replaced by one of annoyance.

  “Private Rivers, it’s good to see you alive and kicking, but wouldn’t the hospital tent be a more appropriate place for you right now?”