Prisoner in Time (Time travel)

by Petersen, Christopher David

  “We’ll be fighting too?” David asked incredulously.

  “I’m sorry Gen. Warner, I know you all are doctors but we’re not left with much choice. The main bridges across the river are badly damaged from previous battles and my engineers are working frantically to repair them. Until that time when I can send men and supplies across, I’ll be employing every available hand.”

  David stared at the general, then looked around at the men working desperately to erect defenses. At that moment, he realized how grave their situation was.

  “Gen. Schofield, we’re not just doctors. We do have battle experience also. Where do you need us?” David shot back, his tone tense, yet confident.

  General Schofield nodded in approval, then spoke.

  “I’m aware of your time at Gettysburg fighting with General Custer, as well as your recent activities fighting with the Rebs, so I’ll be counting on you to lead a small column of men under Gen. Jacob Cox’ command. He’s positioning as we speak on the east side of town along the Harpeth. As soon as the bridge is operational, we’ll be sending supply wagons across, the doctors and then the infantry, in that order,” he said. Reaching into his heavy woolen coat, he pulled out a folded paper. “Here’s your orders. Gather your men here and proceed to the general’s location at once.”

  “Yes Sir,” David responded simply, taking the paper and slipping it into his pocket.

  General Schofield smiled cordially, then turned and rushed off to prepare for battle.

  -----*-----*-----*-----

  Within minutes of receiving his orders, David and the others raced on horseback through the narrow path leading across town. As they rushed past the endless line of laboring soldiers, they watched them toil in their work. Swinging axes and shovels, thousands of men dug long shallow ditches and cut timbers for makeshift breastworks. No man stood and rested. Their frantic pace demonstrated the extent of their worry.

  As the small medical team reached the opposite side of town, David could see an officer on horseback shouting orders to his men as they struggled to fortify their position. David leaned forward, kicked his heels into his horse, spurring him on faster.

  “General Cox, I’m General Warner,” David shouted as he neared.

  Pulling alongside of the general, he hauled back on his reins and came to an abrupt stop next to him. Quickly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his orders.

  “My orders Sir,” David said respectfully, handing the general the folded paper.

  He took the document and read it quickly, nodding as he finished.

  “Very good… this is very good news, General Warner. Glad to have you. We’re spread pretty thin on this side and can use as many men as we can get,” Gen Cox said.

  “What’s the situation?” David asked.

  “I’m ordered to hold the land between the river and the Columbia Pike,” he said, pointing. “My men are throwing up their breastworks now just behind the grove of Orange Osage. It should give us additional cover and slow down the Rebels’ advance.”

  In the morning light, David could see the line of defenses. At the most northern reaches of the breastworks, the defenses form an inverted “v’ where the right side hugged a hundred yard section of river bank, and the left side flowed southward two hundred yards, gradually turned back west around the city to the Columbia Pike.

  Turning back to Gen. Cox, David said, “General, I see you’re lining men up on the bank of the river, as well as southward in a “v” formation.”

  “Yes. If the Rebels decide to climb down and use the river bank as protection, we’ll have a line of men waiting for them. Additionally, those that are assaulting us from the front will face a crossfire as they enter the “v” formation.” Gen. Cox said. He thought about David’s question and asked, “Why, do you see a flaw in my defenses?”

  “Well Sir, I’ve crossed the river a couple of times. Those banks are way too steep for any large group of men to travel along them. You might get a couple of stragglers that could negotiate it, but they’d move so slowly, it just wouldn’t be worth their time to do so. I’m wondering if it might serve you better to move all those men from the edge of the river and add them to this side of the “v”, nearly doubling your strength. As the enemy filed into the “v” formation, the riverbank would keep them corralled while you cut them to ribbons.”

  Gen. Cox stared at David in frustration, then considered the proposed plan. Slowly his face became more accepting as he looked over his defenses. He nodded slightly, then looked back down at the paper in his hand. He read David’s name in his mind, then turned back to him.

  “I must say David, you’ve caused me a bit of embarrassment. Your plan is sound… far more than mine I’m afraid and I’m going to follow it.” Pointing, he continued, “Take your men and ride over to the edge of the river. Col. Israel Stiles is in command of the third brigade there. Inform him of the new battle tactic. Fall in with his brigade and take command of the sixty-third Indiana infantry or what’s left of it.”

  “What happened to it?” David asked.

  “They lost a couple hundred men and their top command in the previous fights in Johnsville and Columbia,” he responded grimly. “The highest ranking officer left is a captain. He’s good, but he’s young and inexperienced.”

  “Sir, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t have much experience leading in battle either,” David said, feeling nervous about his abilities.

  “If General Schofield trusts your judgment, that’s good enough for me,” Gen. Cox responded.

  “Yes Sir.” David said, accepting his fate.

  The two stared at each other momentarily, then nodded respectfully. As David turned to ride back to the others, he heard his name.

  “David, hold up a moment.”

  Turning, he saw General Cox reach down to the side of his horse. He pulled his arm rearward and drew his rifle out of his saddle holster. He kicked his heels and trotted over to David.

  “Here, use this. It’s one of those new Henry repeating rifles. You can shoot nearly thirty rounds a minute instead of four rounds with that musket you’re carrying.”

  “But Sir, what will you shoot?”

  “I’ll be commanding from behind the lines. I have no use for it, really… always use my Colt revolver in times of trouble,” he said, rubbing his hand over his holstered pistol. He smirked, then said, “I’ll be requiring it back after the battle though.”

  David accepted the new rifle along with a two boxes of cartridges. He pulled his musket from his own saddle holster and handed it to the general.

  “In case you need one during the battle,” he said, smirking back.

  The general took the single shot rifle and smiled.

  “Good luck,” he said, his face now turning serious.

  “Yes Sir,” David responded simply.

  As the two parted ways, David trotted over to Doc and Geoff.

  “A present from the general?” Doc asked.

  “It’s a Henry repeating rifle,” David nodded.

  “I’ve heard of those. Deadly in a fight,” Doc added.

  “At nearly thirty rounds a minute, they sure are,” David replied.

  “Do we all get one?” Geoff asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. The general is loaning me this one until the battle is over,” he replied.

  “Man, I sure wish he had extras,” Geoff responded in grim tone.

  David could see anxiety in the teen’s eyes. He handed the rifle to Geoff and said, “Here, let’s trade. Give me your musket. It’s just a waste of resource for me to use it. Better to place it in the hands of someone way more capable.”

  Geoff smiled and handed David his own rifle, accepting the other.

  “Wow, there’re almost no scratches on this baby,” Geoff said as he examined the weapon.

  “Put it to good use,” David responded.

  “Don’t worry. At thirty shots a minute, no one will even come close to us,” Geoff said co
nfidently.

  “Hence, the reason for the trade,” Doc said. “I hope you’re as good as David says you are.”

  “Doc, I probably understated his skill. This kid can shoot the ass off a fly at five hundred yards away,” David boasted.

  “I’d be happy if he could keep the enemy standing two hundred yards away. Anything closer and they tend to be accurate,” Doc responded in worried tone.

  “I’ll do my best Doc,” Geoff said, confidently.

  -----*-----*-----*-----

  Col. Israel Stiles sat on his horse and observed his men as they rushed to fortify their defenses. He shouted a command, then scanned the landscape in front of him. With heightened intensity, he watched for any signs of movement that might foretell the advancing enemy.

  “That must be him,” David said to Doc and Geoff as they trotted toward the lone officer on horseback.

  “Appears his defenses are in disrepair. Nearly as bad as the rest,” Doc responded in grim tone.

  “Yeah, this is almost as bad as we had it in Dalton,” Geoff added.

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I was hoping for something slightly more secure. There’re still obvious breaks in the line,” David pointed as he talked.

  “I just hope the Rebs sleep in a while longer. We’re going to need a couple hours at least, just to buildup these walls,” Geoff said.

  “Two hours is a long time when it’s borrowed Geoffrey. Sometimes building up isn’t always the prudent course,” Doc responded.

  Geoff shook his head in frustration, then turned to David. “What the heck did he just say?”

  “I think what Doc is alluding to is instead of cutting more timber and building the walls higher, it might be faster to dig out trenches beneath the logs and lower the floor. If we’re quick about it, we might be ready before the enemy arrives,” David explained.

  “Precisely Lad. It might be something to suggest to the Colonel after our initial introduction.”

  “I plan to do just that,” David replied.

  As the team neared the colonel, he heard the sound of trotting hooves and turned.

  “Col. Stiles, I’m Gen. Warner,” David announced quickly.

  The colonel stiffened in his saddle, then turned his horse to address the arriving soldiers. With a regimental salute, he said, “Greetings Gen. Warner. Do we have business together?”

  “As a matter of fact, we do,” David replied, stopping next to him and extending his hand.

  As the colonel shook it, David continued.

  “I have orders from Gen. Schofield to take command of the sixty-third Indiana. I was hoping you could brief me on their location and status.”

  A wave of relief swept over the colonel with the news.

  “You’re a welcome sight, Gen. Warner. That unit lost a good deal of its command in the previous battles. I’ve been overseeing them temporarily until a permanent commander could be installed. We’re all spread pretty thin as you can plainly see. You arrived in a nick of time.”

  “Unfortunately, this is only a temporary command. We’re all doctors. After this battle, we’ll be returning to duty in that capacity,” David explained. Pointing to the others, he quickly introduced them to the colonel.

  “Doctors? In command of an infantry unit?” Col. Stiles responded incredulously.

  “I know how that sounds, but most of us do have battle experience. In fact, I commanded a unit with Gen. George Custer at Gettysburg last year.”

  “Gettysburg? Impressive,” he responded now gaining respect. “I’ve heard of this Custer fellow. Never met him though.”

  “He’s as brave as any man I’ve ever met… smart too,” David retorted.

  “Well, just the same, we could sure use your help,” Col. Stiles said. Pointing, he continued, “The sixty-third is positioned over there against the river. They have just over two hundred men by my last count. I have Lt. Torrance currently overseeing them in the construction of their breastworks. They’re cutting timbers now and I suspect will have their defenses ready by noon, that is as long as Gen. Hood remains absent.”

  “I’ve been considering that exact problem. If he shows up before we’re ready, it could be disastrous,” David responded.

  “Agreed. What do you propose?”

  “I’m planning on having the men dig trenches beneath the logs. It’s fast and effective. If Hood shows up sometime between now and then, even a shallow trench will protect them whereas right now, some of the skirmish line is only protected by a single log.”

  Col. Stiles thought about David’s plan. He nodded, then spoke.

  “I generally like to concentrate on building breastworks. My reasoning is two-fold: first, a tall breastwork protects the men while they fire on the enemy. Second, if the enemy advances to the wall, the breastworks become an obstacle to slow them down, giving my men more time to fire on them and repulse their attack. Unfortunately, that plan relies on completed defenses. If Gen. Hood arrives before we’re done, not only will there be holes in the wall for his men to charge through, they’ll be very little to protect my men while firing. They’ll make easy targets,” he said grimly. Considering David’s plan, replied, “I agree with you Gen. Warner. We’ll start digging trenches immediately.”

  “Sound logic, Colonel,” Doc interjected.

  “Well Colonel, if you could point out Lt. Torrance for me, we’ll get out of your hair and be on our way,” David said.

  Moments later, the team of doctors trotted over to the lone lieutenant shouting orders to his men. Seeing the general’s star on David’s applets, he immediately came to attention.

  “Lt. Torrance, I’m Gen. Warner. Gen. Schofield sent me here to take command of this unit.”

  “Yes Sir,” Lt. Torrance replied, simply.

  David looked around, examining the work already completed.

  “That’s fine work lieutenant. If you don’t mind, I’d now like to have the men begin digging trenches beneath the breastworks. Once those are in place, we’ll concentrate on building the wall higher.”

  “Yes Sir,” he responded obediently.

  He spun on his heels and instantly shouted the order up and down the line. Moments later, axes were replaced by shovels and frantic digging began.

  -----*-----*-----*-----

  Even in the cool morning temperature, the soldiers sweated while they toiled at their work. Most removed their heavy woolen coats, yet continued to sweat through their white cotton shirts. As the men drove their axes and shovels into the solid earth, blisters formed on their hands. Ignoring their pain and the need for rest, they worked at a frantic pace in the hope that every shovelful would increase their chance of survival.

  Doc swung the head of the ax, plunging the point deep into the ground. As he levered the dirt away from the ditch, he took a deep breath and exhaled. Geoff scooped up the dirt with his shovel, and watched Doc with concern.

  “You ok Doc? Do you need to take a break?”

  “Certainly not Geoffrey, I’m just not used to this ax handle is all. It has an unusual straightness that takes a bit of getting used to,” he explained feebly.

  “Straightness… that’s a good one Doc. Haven’t heard that one before,” Geoff teased.

  “Lad, most ax handles have a curvature about their grip region. This one’s almost perfectly straight. You must exert more energy to use it,” he tried to explain, unconvincingly.

  “Whatev,” Geoff shot back with indifference.

  “It’s an abomination in design,” Doc continued.

  “Uh huh…”

  “Lad, that shovel won’t operate itself. I suggest you put it to proper use,” Doc spat, mildly insulted.

  Geoff grinned, then returned to his work. Doc took another long breath and glanced around to see if anyone had heard their exchange. He wiped the beads of sweat off his face with his sleeve, then looked off to his left toward the river. Two hundred yards away, he watched David on horseback riding up the line, calling out orders as he inspected his defenses. Sudde
nly, off to his right, he heard the sound of approaching riders.

  Gen. Schofield trotted swiftly behind the long wall of logs and shallow trenches. With his reins in one hand, he pulled his pocket watch from his coat and noted the time.

  “Hmm, ten-thirty,” he mumbled to himself, his mind consumed with worry.

  Looking back to the wall, he noted a log hastily placed and ready to fall.

  “Private, secure that log properly. A single bullet could dislodge the blasted thing,” he shouted in frustration. Turning to a nearby Sergeant, he continued, “Sergeant, watch your men carefully.”