"Let's hope we live to see it," David responded morbidly.
"Have faith, my boy. Keep your wits about you and you should do fine," Dr. Morgan retorted optimistically.
The day passed uneventfully. David rode side by side with Dr. Morgan, keeping pace with the endless sea of humanity as they marched across the Tennessee wilderness. Mile after filthy mile, black leather shoes kicked up the dust, choking man and horse alike, as their muscles cried out in quiet agony from the burdensome weight of their heavy knapsacks and rifles while engaged in ‘heavy marching order’. The sun’s rays bore down upon the unprotected foot soldiers, roasting their bodies inside their heavy, woolen blue uniforms, causing profuse sweat to completely soak through, producing irritation and chafing at every joint.
Hours of marching took its toll as the dust mixed with sweat on contact, turning the blue uniforms gray in appearance, as the mixture created a thin layer of filth that covered the outside of their uniforms. Horse and rider fared no better, as the hours in the saddle created sores that developed quickly under the continual chafing from wool against leather.
Hour after hour, the beautiful yet repetitive scenery ceased to be entertaining, as each tree, each rock, each grassy field looked like the next, melding into one long stretch of seemingly featureless, uninteresting land. Desperate for relief from the excruciating boredom, each soldier recalled the memories of their lives until these, too, ceased to hold their attention.
As the hours passed, the monotony of the day seared their minds, pushing them to the brink of madness. Only infrequent breaks for water brought momentary relief as the soldiers paused and exchanged idle pleasantries, barely resuscitating their minds as they received remonstrations from their superiors to fall back in formation.
Like moving targets, they had marched through enemy territory, anxiety infiltrating their subconscious as they anticipated the ever-present threat of ambush. By late evening, the column of exhausted humanity had marched more than twelve miles through flat dusty roads and over irregular, hilly fields, all the while keeping the Chattanooga River within short reach as they advanced on their easterly path. In the middle of the wilderness, Gen. Negley located a suitable camp for the evening: a series of large grassy fields that the year before had been used as farmland, but were now abandoned and overgrown. With the Chattanooga River less than a mile to their south, accessible drinking water lay within their reach. Though not perfect, far worse conditions could easily be remembered, leaving little for the tired soldiers to complain about.
Heavy black smoke now replaced the dust bowl that hung menacingly above the soldiers’ heads, as they separated into small groups and cooked their evening rations over the fires. As far as the eyes could see, the flicker of a thousand flames dotted the landscape while the soldiers lay and chatted idly by the evening glow. Others sat in silence, mesmerized by the dance of the blaze, as the warm fire gently soothed their troubled minds.
Having set up their tents and built their own small fire, David and Dr. Morgan ate their evening ration of salted pork, dried apples and hardtack crackers. Tortured by intense hunger and cravings from his future, David struggled to choke down the bland provisions obtained from the now deceased lieutenant who wore David's clothes not two days before. With hunger pangs suppressed, the two reclined by the fire, both lost in thought. As the fire crackled with loud ‘pops’ from the still green wood, Dr. Morgan turned his attention to his newfound camp mate.
"David, would you mind indulging me for a moment? What is the future like?" he asked with childlike curiosity.
"The future? Oh boy, where do I begin?" David started with a smile. "Well, to begin with, the food is like nothing you've ever tasted before. We have pizza, Chinese, Italian food, ice cream and candy, and lots of soda."
"What are pizza and Chinese?" Dr. Morgan inquired.
"Only the main staple in every modern doctor’s life," David joked. "Pizza is basically flat bread topped with sauce made from tomatoes and cheese, then baked in an oven. It is possibly the most delicious thing ever invented. Chinese is short for Chinese cuisine, only it's not bland like one might expect. It's made with wonderful sauces and intense spices like curry and ginger that turn ordinary ingredients like rice and vegetables into a masterpiece of culinary flavors. My mouth is watering just thinking of them right now," David finished enthusiastically.
"Mmm, that does sound interesting," Dr. Morgan replied.
"If you think that's interesting, let me tell you about computers and cars and planes and GERMS!" David said with emphasis, as an epiphany popped into his head.
"Germs? What are germs, lad?" Dr. Morgan asked, now intently curious with David's enthusiasm.
"Germs, my good doctor, are the sole reason for all your patients’ complications after surgery. Germs are the single biggest killer in this war. Hell, in the whole world for that matter," David replied. "Germs are tiny organisms or living things that can cause disease. These little creatures are so small you need a microscope to view them, but you don't need to view them to know they are there. Signs of germs are all around us, with infections, sore throats, fevers, coughs; the list goes on."
"Tiny creatures?" Dr. Morgan replied, not sure what to make of David's revelation.
"I know it sounds hard to believe, but trust me, they are the number one cause of every problem we have today – medically speaking, of course," David answered back, then elaborated further. "There are four classifications of germ. Bacteria, which cause illnesses like infections and pneumonia; viruses, which cause diseases such as smallpox, influenza and cancer; fungi, which cause a variety of rashes, and finally there are protozoa, which tapeworms and roundworms are a good examples of."
"Amazing. I've never heard of such a thing," Dr. Morgan replied.
"Actually, two years ago - 1860 that is – a microbiologist named Louis Pasteur discovered germs in his laboratory in France. It's going to be a couple of years before the concept becomes more widely accepted, and many more years after that before a handful of doctors and scientists learn to control most of them. Actually, we still struggle today to understand them – I mean in 2005. We have many cures for the worst offenders, like pneumonia, smallpox, typhoid, cholera and many others, but we still don't have a cure for the common cold, ironically."
"Typhoid? Cholera? Pneumonia? My God, man, do you have these cures memorized?" Dr. Morgan asked anxiously.
"I'm sorry, doctor, but they typically aren't salves, poultices or the standard cures of the 19th century. The cures are usually scientifically engineered, complex drugs that are impossible to create with today's limited technology." David replied. He thought for a moment then continued, "Come to think of it, it might be possible for me to create penicillin from simple mold. Of course, I'd have to build the right equipment for it. It could be done the more I think about it, although like everything else, it would take a month to produce - too long in this environment, I'm afraid," he finished with pessimism.
Dr. Morgan hunched his shoulders at the disappointing news. He looked at David and said, "Is there nothing we can do?"
"We're doing it now. Killing the germs is the only solution, so boiling our instruments, washing our hands with soap and boiled water, and sterilizing the wounds with various strengths of alcohol is the best medicine we can provide under these primitive conditions," David said optimistically. "As we have already seen, the results are impressive."
"Amazing. This is truly an amazing discovery," Dr. Morgan stated, his spirits and optimism lifted once again. "Who would have guessed that cleanliness truly is next to Godliness? From this day forward, I will endeavor to kill the germs prior to surgery."
David added, "Not just prior to surgery, but during and especially after too. Washing your hands and instruments prior to changing bandages will help to prevent infecting the wounds during the healing process."
"Very good, David. I will take note of that too," Dr. Morgan replied resolutely.
By the glow of the smoldering embers, Dav
id elaborated into the late evening on the topic of germs. Fascinated, Dr. Morgan asked an endless barrage of questions, upon which David happily answered them all in detail. Like an inquisitive child and a patient father, the session of questions and answers continued until they heard the sound of the bugler’s horn playing ’taps’, thereby marking the end of the evening. Dr. Morgan, now energized by the topics of futuristic science and discoveries, reluctantly followed the bugler’s subtle orders to turn in.
"Well, lad, might I press you for further education tomorrow?" Dr. Morgan asked graciously.
"Dr. Morgan, it's always a pleasure to discuss these topics with someone as enthusiastic as you. The pleasure is all mine," David replied.
"I am at your service," Dr. Morgan smiled.
As the two bid each other good night and entered their respective tents, both recalled the stimulating conversation and enjoyment of each other's company. With the final smoldering embers releasing their scant bit of light for the evening, David rested on his stomach and watched their hypnotic glow from inside the campfire while he reflected on the day. As the embers slowly faded to black, David could no longer resist the weight of his heavy eyelids. He closed his eyes and. like a member of a church choir, he added to the night’s chorus with his own distinctive tone of snoring.
---- ---- ---- ---- ----
Early morning, shortly before dawn, under a clear night's sky, the ambient temperatures had dropped to an uncomfortable fifty-five degrees. David, with only a woolen blanket for protection from the elements, shivered while he tossed and turned on the cold, hard ground, as he desperately shifted his weight from one side to the next, trying to find comfort and warmth. He drifted off once more as exhaustion from interrupted sleep supplanted his need for comfort.
5:00 AM – REVEILLE!!
Offensive, intrusive and effective, reveille sounded from the bugler's horn sharply at five o'clock, just as the sun's caress, nearly undetected, extended its reached into the soldiers’ canvas homes. The sound from the universally hated shiny brass instrument jarred the entire valley from its peaceful rest, waking every living thing with a violent barrage of detestable racket.
David immediately woke and slowly emerged from his tent. With his woolen blanket still wrapped around him, he watched as the company sergeant moved from tent to tent, gruffly waking his soldiers for early morning roll call.
“Morning, sir,” the sergeant stated officially as he hurried by David and onto other soldiers under his supervision.
“Good morning,” David replied slowly as his mind fought its way out of lethargy. Too late; his reply fell on deaf ears, as the sergeant moved out of listening range.
“Good morning, lad,” David heard from behind him. Spinning around, he saw Dr. Morgan, bright-eyed and smiling as he buttoned the last few buttons on his top coat. “I trust your sleep was satisfactory?” Dr. Morgan asked genuinely.
“Actually, it was the worst night's sleep I've ever had,” David immediately replied on impulse. Detecting a disappointed expression on the old doctor's face, David realized his offending response and added, “Sorry, doc, I didn't mean to sound so negative right out of the gate. I guess I'm still half-asleep.”
With a slight smile, showing his genuine sympathy, Dr. Morgan replied, “That's quite alright, my boy. It does take a little getting used to.” He looked down at the spent campfire and motioned to David for some kindling behind him. “How about a fire? Could you hand me some of those twigs?” He motioned to an even smaller pile beside David’s feet.
They both reached down and collected a couple of handfuls of the kindling, as David observed out of the corner of his eye the correct size and shape the old doctor was selecting.
Sensing his lack of skill, Dr. Morgan began to teach David the finer points of campfire construction. With skill and speed, the old doctor built a roaring fire in a matter of minutes, the whole time explaining his actions to David.
With the coffee brewing, the two sat in silence for a few minutes as they struggled to gnaw at their flavorless hardtack crackers, each man's private thoughts a world apart. Moments later, the bugler's horn sounded again, snapping them out of their unconscious state, dragging them back to the realities of military camp life. As the rush of soldiers raced past the doctors on their way to formation, each one gave the pair a respectful morning greeting, calling out “Doc,” as they raced by. The old doctor acknowledged their salutes with a simple nod.
Shortly after 7am, David stepped into the stirrups of his newly acquired transportation, as the two doctors fell into sequence of the marching column of soldiers. With each trot, David felt the pain of unused muscles, sore and inflamed from the previous day’s ride, scream as they were forced to work against their fatigue.
Conditioned from a lifetime of riding, Dr. Morgan rode high in his saddle, unaffected by the previous day's march, and once again began to contemplate David remarks about the future.
“David, I believe you mentioned yesterday some innovations not yet realized. Could you indulge me for a while?” he asked.
David shifted the leather visor of his hat to shield his eyes from the sun. He cleared his throat and began, “Well, doc, I mentioned that in 2005 we have cars, planes and computers. I forgot to add that we also have cell phones.”
“What are cell phones, lad?” the old doctor asked inquisitively.
“Cell phones? Probably the worse curse on humanity since the invention of the automobile,” David replied sarcastically.
“Hmm. Are these cell phones curable in your time?” Dr Morgan asked, incorrectly assuming that ‘curse’ meant disease.
“Sorry, doc; that was just my sarcasm showing through. Actually, cell phones aren't diseases at all. They are an invention. Years from now, in 1876, a man named Alexander Graham Bell will invent the telephone, a device that can transmit sound over a strand of wire. These wires and phones will be strung all over the country, allowing people to talk from one end of the country to the other,” David said.
“Amazing,” Dr. Morgan exclaimed. “Must be an evolution of the telegraph, I'm guessing.”
“Exactly,” David replied, then continued, “So, man can now communicate much faster, which means progress and technology advance much faster. A man in Massachusetts can now confer with a man in California to resolve issues in design. The end result is innovation and progress happen at a much faster rate,” he elaborated.
“I see. This is wonderful. Requisitioning supplies by telegraph could take weeks. I've performed many a surgery without the use of chloroform due to the delay of resupply – quite a discovery, I must say,” Dr. Morgan stated.
“Yes; well it would be nice if the telephone was used solely for humanitarian purposes. Later, well after its discovery, the invention of the ‘telemarketer’ is born,” David said with a distasteful tone.
“What is a telemarketer, David?” he asked.
“He, or she for that matter, is like your snake oil salesmen of today. They are charlatans that invade your privacy with the dial of a button on the telephone, trying to sell you everything from land to lineament. They intrude upon your life with callous impropriety, never apologetic and always as aggressive as they are obnoxious and rude, with a single-minded intent of siphoning away your hard-earned cash. They've degraded a wonderful invention for their own selfish private gain. They are ubiquitous and I hate them,” David admitted openly.
“Well, that is quite a bold statement to make about these telemarketers. I fear your explanation of the cell phone won't fare much better.” Dr. Morgan replied.
“Unfortunately, you are correct. The cell phone is a telephone without the wires,” David said.
“Without wires? How does it work? By magic?” Dr. Morgan asked seriously.
David chuckled to himself for a moment at the doctor's response, then replied, “Not by magic, my good doctor. It's a little hard to explain, but sound can be sent out into the air with a device called a transmitter. This transmitter takes sound and processes it
through that device, sending it off as a frequency: or, in layman's terms, invisible sound. On the other side, a person holds a device called a receiver that takes these invisible sounds, processes them, and converts them to real sound: so a man in Massachusetts can talk to a man in California without having to be restrained by wires. The beauty of this is, the device is as small as your pocket watch. The problem is everyone owns one.”
Dr. Morgan looked at David, stunned. He tried to comprehend this marvelous invention. Finally, he spoke. “Just imagine if our boys owned one of these devices. He could call for help when wounded. The lives that could be saved...” the doctor said, now drifting off in thought again.
“Yes, well, again, if they were used for humanitarian purposes that would truly be a wonderful invention. Unfortunately, they have replaced normal human interaction and communication. Too often you see two friends walking side by side, talking to someone elsewhere about something completely unimportant and inane, and all the while ignoring the very person that they chose to spend time with. This behavior in future society is epidemic, and is getting worse with each passing day that this behavior is tolerated and accepted as proper etiquette and manners,” David said, now visibly showing his disdain.
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