Tear In Time

by Petersen, Christopher David

  With the lower extremity removed, the strips of cloth were released and the loose muscle slid forward naturally over the stunted bone. David then began to tie off the exposed and bleeding veins and arteries. With all vessels secured, he released the tourniquet and checked the ends for leakage. Quickly, he then sewed the flap of skin over the stump and rinsed off any remaining infectious matter, sterilizing with alcohol before applying the final field dressing.

  “That's fine work, lad,” Dr. Morgan said as David finished.

  “Thanks, doc," David replied.

  A smile came to David's face as he noticed the old doctor had brought him a tin cup filled with coffee. Wispy streams of steam floated off the top, stimulating David's senses and invigorating him once more. David took the cup and carefully sipped at the edge.

  "Wow, that's good," David said, then laughed. "I sound like a damn coffee commercial."

  "A commercial? I don't follow, lad," Dr. Morgan replied in confusion.

  "Sorry, doc. A commercial is just an advertisement, except in motion pictures. You remember me telling you about motion pictures, don't you?" David asked.

  "Yes, yes, lad. A marvelous innovation in photography," Dr. Morgan replied, smiling in amazement.

  "Yeah, marvelous except for the fact that now, instead of seeing a snake oil salesman trying to peddle his junk every so often, you have them in your face every fifteen minutes, wearing tacky clothes and repeating cheap, annoying slogans that stick in your mind forever, pushing you to the edge of anger and insanity, completely distracting you from the program you are watching and degrading the quality of your entertainment and your life," David replied, his disdain clearly obvious.

  "Bastards! I detest snake oil salesman," Dr. Morgan replied with passion. "Tar and feather them, I advise."

  David looked aloft. His mind drifted a bit, then he replied, "I'd advise worse, only I am restrained by my oath to medicine."

  "Quite right, lad, quite right," Dr. Morgan concurred.

  The two smiled cordially, ending the humor, then discussed more serious matters.

  “So how are your nerves, lad?” Dr. Morgan inquired.

  “Well thank goodness for exhaustion, else I would have soiled myself already,” David replied, his face losing expression. “I think I'm too tired to be scared.”

  Dr. Morgan leaned in toward David and asked, “David, are you sure that today is the day the Confederates overrun the Union lines and take Washington?”

  “I'm positive, doc; I remember it from my history class. The Union retreats and the Rebs take Washington, which then inspires other countries to get involved,” David responded.

  “Are you ready?” Dr. Morgan asked in a hushed tone.

  “As ready as I'll ever be. I just hope your plan for escape works. I know we'll be riding away on horses, but I just can't help but worry that somewhere out there, the Confederates will be waiting,” David said, confessing his worry. “I have to tell you. I'm also feeling guilty about leaving the men. I wish there was some way to alert them of their impending capture.”

  “There really isn't anything you can say to them, David. You cannot tell them that you are from the future, and that you know that the Confederates are about to take over the country and that they better run for their lives, else they will be imprisoned,” Dr. Morgan said. “Command would have you shot for spreading that kind of propaganda.”

  “I know. It just sucks that I have this knowledge and can't do anything to prevent this disaster,” David replied

  “David, by the sound of things, we've changed the future enough. If this overrun by the Confederates is supposed to happen, then allow fate to run its course,” Dr. Morgan advised. “The future will overcome.”

  “I understand,” David replied with a nod.

  “Very well. At the first sign of trouble, I will hail you,” Dr. Morgan said.

  With that, both men nodded and turned back to their work.

  While the Union armies were bolstering their lines through the night, Confederates too were advancing in greater numbers to meet the challenge. By morning, their size had tripled, just as the Union had done previously.

  Out on the battlefield, the fight raged violently. Confederate Gen. Lee resumed his attack on Union Gen. Meade, sending artillery and mini-ball mercilessly toward the Union’s higher ground. With each volley, hundreds of men fell.

  Holding their positions from the previous night, the Union lines stretch south from Cemetery Hill, through the Peach Orchard, the Wheatfield, and onto Round Top. Additionally, the line stretched southeast to Culp's Hill.

  Sending artillery from Seminary Ridge, west of the Union positions, the Confederates pounded the Union's higher ground, hoping to weaken their lines and exploit any weakness. The attacks and counterattacks waged back and forth, but still the Union lines held.

  By noon, the Confederates were launching attacks from three sides: from the east onto Culp's Hill; from the west toward Cemetery Ridge; and from the southwest toward Round Top. Each of the three attacks were weakening the Union lines, but none collapsed.

  As David checked his pocket watch, he began to realize that something was amiss. The Confederate breakthrough and eventual overrun hadn't materialized. He had waited all morning in anticipation of a harried and desperate retreat, but now, well past the predicted time of that event, he was still waiting. Something had changed, and David knew what that change was – the absence of Stonewall Jackson. Without his presence, the Southern army lacked the leadership to mount an effective charge.

  David began to breathe a nervous sigh of relief. He was now standing in uncharted territory, as he realized that the future was now unwritten. With the Confederate overrun seemingly past, David stowed his pocket watch and prepared for more surgery.

  Moments later, he heard the familiar gallop from Gen. Negley's horse. Turning to Dr. Morgan, fear swept his body once more.

  “Dammit, I was hoping the future had changed again. Do you think this is it?” David asked nervously to Dr. Morgan.

  “Could be, lad. Without Stonewall, the overrun may have just taken longer. I'll fetch our belongings,” Dr. Morgan replied.

  Just then Gen. Negley burst through the front door, his face swept with anxiety. He scanned the interior of the blood-soaked room, located David, and steamed over to him with purpose.

  “David,” Gen. Negley started, “I am in desperate need of your help. Please join me outside.” Turning to Dr. Morgan, he continued, “You too, Jeb. This affects you as well.”

  “Certainly, Jim,” Dr. Morgan replied. He turned to David and motioned him to follow outside.

  The three exited onto the porch, where Gen. Negley immediately began.

  “David, our lines are in danger of collapse. To the south we have the largest concentration of forces at elevated positions. They are suffering terrible losses and are weakening. Unfortunately, I have no reserves at my disposal. To the east, I have a smaller force ready to engage the enemy. If we can defeat this enemy on the east, I can send them to the south and turn the tide of this battle,” Gen. Negley explained.

  David listened intently as the general continued, “Leadership for those forces have all but been eliminated, save for a handful of sergeants. I am left with but one qualified man to lead the entire brigade. He is a remarkable general, but even at that, he will be ineffective.”

  “General Negley, I'm confused. How does this affect me?” David cut in.

  “Son, I've seen you lead scores of men. You are also a highly-skilled marksman, and Jeb here tells me your skill with a saber is remarkable,” Gen. Negley said. He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, then continued, “David, I know your primary occupation is that of a surgeon, but I need you to lead these men in battle.”

  David's knees buckled a bit, then straightened as he digested the general’s request. He searched his face for some sign of resignation, some hint that he would give up his appeal, but there was none. The general stood resolutely, determined in his intent.


  “Sir, this is craziness. I don't have any experience in these matters, except for that one time at Cedar Mountain. I could end up doing more harm than good and getting a lot of people killed in the process,” David pleaded.

  “Son, I know that this act of desperation may seem ill-conceived, but trust my word: I have thought deeply on this matter. You are as skilled a military leader as you are a surgeon,” Gen. Negley responded.

  “But what about all these men? Many will die without my help,” David replied, searching for an excuse.

  “David, those men are already dead. It is only that the Confederates have not yet broken through that they are still alive. As sure as I am standing here before you, if I am unable to move my troops in support of the southern positions, our lines will collapse. It is an undeniable truth,” Gen. Negley explained. Turning and point to the wounded, he continued, “Those men, this army, our country can only be saved through immediate and decisive actions by determined and talented men. One is on the field; the other is standing before me.”

  “Do I have a choice?” David asked, shame detectable in his tone.

  “As one of our finest surgeons, I will not order you into battle, but as a gentleman, I am hoping you will volunteer,” Gen. Negley responded.

  David thought about the general's statement. He knew braver men would proudly accept the general’s request. David felt overwhelmed by quilt and cowardice as he struggled with this new order. He looked over at Dr. Morgan, who returned his stare through disapproving eyes, like a father worried about his son.

  “Who is the general you're talking about? Have we heard of him before?” David asked, motioning to both he and Dr. Morgan.

  “His name is Custer. George Armstrong Custer, he calls himself. He's a little arrogant, but a fine tactician,” Gen. Negley replied.

  “Custer? Wow – that’s one for the scrapbooks,” David shot off the cuff.

  “You know the lad, David?” asked a stunned Dr. Morgan.

  “Yeah, I've heard of him,” David replied flatly, now trying to hide his knowledge of the future.

  There was a moment of silence, then the general began once more.

  “Gen. Custer and you will both lead the men into battle. Of course, I'd have to promote you to the rank of Brigadier General as well, to accomplish our mission. You two would lead Custer's Michigan Calvary against a smaller force led by Gen. Jeb Stuart Virginia Calvary. If my calculations are correct, I believe the mismatch would not produce a protracted fight,” Gen. Negley informed.

  “Sir, I'm ready. When do I leave?” David said impatiently, nearly cutting off the general mid-sentence.

  The general stared at David in surprise for a moment, then smiled and extended his hand in thanks. “Son, I must tell you: I was doubtful of your acceptance. Thank you,” Gen. Negley stated. “I am indebted to you.”

  “Just let me grab my things and we'll be off,” David replied.

  Gen. Negley nodded, then stepped off the porch to prepare his horse.

  David nodded for Dr. Morgan to follow him back into the farmhouse. Once inside and out of range of all who could hear, David discussed his decision with Dr. Morgan.

  "Son, I'm a bit confused with your reasoning. Your judgment appears impulsive and erred. I implore you to reconsider your actions," Dr. Morgan said with deep concern in his voice. "What the general is asking could easily cost you your life. You are not of this time and what happens in this time is not of your affair. I realize you have already impacted the future, but that was unintentional. Son, this is a deliberate tampering with the natural order of future events," Dr. Morgan finished, raising his voice in an impassioned plea.

  "Doc, I understand I could be killed, and I understand your position on the future, but I'm sure if I do nothing and the Confederates overrun us, I'll be a captain in this army with little control over my future. On the other hand, if I fight as a brigadier general and they still overrun us, we as a nation would be no worse off, but I would then have the benefit of a higher rank. I'm sure with that higher rank I could get myself back to Chattanooga much quicker," David replied, straining to control the volume of this voice. Suddenly, a softness came over David’s face as he continued, "Doc, this is my chance to get home. It may be my only chance."

  "And what happens if you prevent the inevitable? That is to say, what happens then if you prevent the Confederates from overrunning our positions? As you told me before, the Confederates are supposed to capture Washington. If this does not happen, what will become of the future?" Dr. Morgan asked.

  "To coin a wise old sage's words: 'The future will overcome'," David responded with a smile, using Dr. Morgan's own words to answer the question.

  "Hmm, yes. Well, we shall see if I am not a fool," Dr. Morgan replied, his face filled with uncertainty.

  -----------------------------------

  The three men rode at a terrific pace, pushing the horses to the limits of their endurance. An hour later, as they crested a small bluff, a large valley opened up, giving a wide panoramic view of the eastern battlefield. Riding down through a small aspen forest, Gen. Negley slowed their pace. Just ahead, at the end of the well-worn path, Brig. Gen. George Custer's Michigan brigade readied themselves for action.

  David scanned the hundreds of soldiers and horses until his eyes focused on a flamboyant-looking character with long, curly blond hair and a well-manicured goatee. Brig. Gen. Custer stood statuesque, like a heroic icon. With his hand clutching his saber, he monitored the staging of his men, barking orders to those in need of direction.

  "That's him – Custer – isn't it?" David asked Dr. Morgan as they trotted toward camp.

  "I believe so, son," Dr. Morgan replied.

  Gen. Negley reached into his pocket and pulled out two polished silver stars and handed them to David.

  "I almost forgot. Here, David. Put these on before you two meet. Wouldn't want to give the young lad the wrong impression," Gen. Negley said.

  David removed the Captain's bars and pinned two General's stars to his . Dr. Morgan looked over to David and, like a proud father, nodded.

  David smiled and said, "You don't have to call me sir."

  Gen. Negley immediately cut in, "That ole coot won't call sir to anyone," he said in dry humor.

  "General, you impugn my good character. I have been known to address Lincoln’s wife by sir," Dr. Morgan joked, then shuddered for effect.

  "Quite right, Jim. I stand corrected. Many a man has been ill-deceived by Mary Todd before she has attended to her morning stubble," Gen. Negley continued, while holding back his own laughter.

  "Wow, Mary Todd could grow a beard?" David asked rhetorically.

  "A right handsome one at that," Gen. Negley replied. "If you should ever meet with the first family, be sure to kiss the hand of the shorter bearded dignitary."

  Dr. Morgan was about to continue the joke when they heard Gen. Custer call to them.

  "Gen. Negley … you have arrived," Gen. Custer yelled out, as he ran to greet the arriving three. "There is no time, I fear. The Rebs are readying themselves across the way."

  As the three stepped down off their horses, Custer moved directly over to David and shook his hand in genuine greeting.

  "Gen. Warner, I presume," Custer said to David, while looking to Gen. Negley for approval.

  "Yes sir. And you must be Gen. Custer. I'm very pleased to meet you," David responded cordially.

  "I am grateful that you are joining us. With the loss of all my officers, I would not be able to make a good showing today. Now that you are here, I am confident we will emerge victorious," Custer beamed.

  "Well, I'll do my best," David replied, trying to hide his insecurity.

  Custer nodded to Dr. Morgan in greeting, then looked to Gen. Negley with a serious stare and said, "Sir, I beg your pardon, but I have little time to brief Gen. Warner. Would you accept my apologies and please excuse us?"

  "War has no schedule. Please attended to your matters at once," Gen. Negley replied.r />
  Dr. Morgan extended his hand in a saddened farewell and said, "David, remember what I taught you... and be careful. God be with you."

  The two stared at each other for a moment as if they would not see each other again, their sadness and despair now obvious to the others. David then stepped away and shook Gen. Negley's hand.

  Like a second father, the general read David's face and responded, "You'll do fine, son."

  At that, Custer and David turned and hurried into camp as Gen. Negley and Dr. Morgan watched them leave from mounted horses.

  "The boy will be alright, Jeb," Gen. Negley said, sensing the doctor's anguish.