Geoff listened in shock. Unable to see the old man’s face, he considered the statement serious.
‘They tricked me!’ he thought to himself.
Anger roiled inside him at the idea they had purposely misled him.
“It’s a good thing too, ‘cause I was going to throw his bum ass in irons until this whole thing was over,” David added.
Doc and David laughed out loud at their last statement. Geoff seethed in anger, hearing them laugh at his expense.
‘Bum ass? Irons?’ Geoff spat under his breath. “To HELL with them,” he snarled quietly.
Angry and hurt, he spun on his heels and ran off into the darkness toward his tent.
“All joking aside David, if he didn’t change his mind, what would you have done?” Doc asked, now turning serious once more.
David thought for a moment. His expression changing from jovial to concerned.
“I guess I would’ve done the same thing I’ve been doing all along… just stand beside him and help him the best I could.”
“He has a good friend in you David,” Doc responded.
“That works both ways Doc,” David replied.
Both men nodded in understanding.
As time ticked by, they began to notice Geoff’s absence.
“I think the lad is lost,” Doc joked. “It’s been almost a half hour.”
“He said he was tired earlier. I wonder if he just turned in for the night,” David responded.
“Strange he didn’t inform us.”
“Very strange,” David concurred.
“I wonder if he’s ok.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. He probably just got a little distracted and forgot to tell us,” David explained.
Doc nodded and said, “Probably not a bad idea. I’m pretty exhausted too.”
“I think we all are… and it isn’t going to get any easier tomorrow either,” David replied.
“Well, thankfully we don’t have to worry about Geoffrey now. What a great relief that is.”
David nodded and said, “Yup, at least there’s that.”
Doc stood up and stretched. He shivered in the cold, then said, “I suppose we should check up on the lad.”
David stood and tossed the remainder of his cold coffee to the ground. He pulled his blanket tightly around him and said simply, “Yup, probably a good idea.”
As both men headed toward Geoff’s tent far down the line, they heard footsteps approaching fast. Turning around, they spotted a lieutenant hurrying directly toward them.
“Sir, Gen. Thomas would like a word with you in his tent,” the lieutenant said to David.
“It is serious?” David asked.
“I’m not sure, Sir. I think it has to do with tomorrow’s battle.”
David turned to Doc. He face looked grim.
“I hope he’s not planning on having me lead another charge tomorrow. I’ve had more than my fill,” he said.
“I seriously doubt that, David. We greatly outnumber Hood’s army and Gen. Thomas has more generals than he does surgeons, so I’m guessing it’s merely something procedural in nature,” Doc assured.
“I hope so,” David said simply.
“Speaking of doctors, maybe I should check up on them before turning in,” Doc added.
“I was going to do the same. I’ll probably see you over there,” David said, rolling his eyes in discontent.
“A surgeon never sleeps,” Doc joked.
As Doc and David, hurried in their duties, Geoff sat in his tent and composed a letter. Thinking of his future, he no longer felt anger… more important concerns occupied his thoughts. With the last sentence written, he wiped a tear from his cheek, folded the paper and laid it on his cot. He looked around his tiny canvas home, then shouldered his haversack and rifle and headed outside his tent. At such a late hour, the camp was quiet. He took a deep breath, exhaled, then hurried off into the darkness.
-----*-----*-----*-----
December 16th, 1864
5:00am
Doc poked at the coals in the campfire, restarting the fire from the previous night. As a flame ignited, he placed more wood on the bed of coals and watched in satisfaction as the reddening glow began to produce heat. He placed a pot of coffee at the fire’s edge, sat back and waited on it to brew. Within minutes, he watched wisps of steam rise out of the spout. A minute later, he filled his tin cup with the hot brown liquid, and began to sip.
“Ugh… acorns,” he said to himself, grimacing. “At least it’s strong,” he added quietly.
“It better be after last night. I think I got an hour of sleep total,” David said from behind.
Startled, Doc spun around, nearly spilling his coffee in his lap.
“David!” he blurted in surprise. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said simply. “Guess I should’ve warned you.”
“Quite all right Lad. Help yourself to some coffee,” he said, returning his stare back to the fire.
“Music to my taste buds,” David joked.
He poured himself a tin of coffee, then sat on the opposite side of the fire and sipped the contents. As the fire crackled, the two sat in silence.
“So I take it Gen. Thomas isn’t having you lead a command today?” Doc asked, finally breaking the quiet.
“Nope, he’s monitoring the inflow of casualties, trying to determine if some of them need to be shipped off to hospitals elsewhere.”
“Hmm, on the surface, that idea may seem sound, but when one examines the recovery rate at those places, that plan loses a great deal of its appeal. A man might have to wait a week to be treated here, but he doesn’t have to worry about dying from disease. At those hospitals, I’ve seen many men come in with simple wounds and die weeks later from unrelated illnesses.”
“I agree and that’s what I told him, so we’ll just have to wait and see what the casualty rate is. If it grows too high, we might not have a choice but to send them there.”
Doc nodded in agreement, then sipped his coffee. Looking over to his right, he felt Geoff’s absence.
“I suppose we should wake the lad,” he remarked.
David nodded and said, “I’m betting he slept well last night.” He thought for a moment, then asked, “Were you able to check up on him before you went to bed?”
“No, I guess I got tied up with patients and forgot.”
“Yeah, me too,” David replied. “I guess I’ll go drag him out of bed,” he added with a reluctant groan.
Doc smiled cordially. As David stood and headed down the line, Doc shouted, “Tell junior if he’s not out here in five minutes, Santa’s coming in there after him.”
David chuckled and said, “I’ll tell ‘im.”
Minutes later, David shouted as he stepped through the opening to Geoff’s tent:
“Rise and shine Geoff. Doc said if you’re not out in five minutes, Santa’s coming to get you. I’d listen to him if I were you.”
David froze. Geoff was gone. He looked around the tent and immediately sensed something wrong. His bed wasn’t slept in. The tent was empty… all his belongings were conspicuously missing.
David noticed a single sheet of paper lying in the middle of Geoff’s neatly made bed. He walked over, picked it up and began to read. Instantly, his eyes widened and his heart started to race. Fear and anxiety coursed through his body.
“Oh No! Oh God, No!” he said under his breath as he read.
David stood quivering as he finished the last line. His eyes darted around the room, then back to the letter, hoping it was all a bad dream. The reality of its contents stunned him. He spun around and rushed out into the darkness.
“Doc he’s gone,” David shouted as he neared the campfire.
Too far away, he shouted once again as he neared, “Doc, Geoff is gone!”
Doc heard David’s message and leaped to his feet.
“What do you mean gone?” he shouted back in disbelief.
As he rushed up to Doc, he handed h
im the letter.
“Here, read this,” David demanded.
Doc immediately took the letter. He looked at the intensity in David’s eyes and felt his heart begin to race. David watched Doc’s eyes dart back and forth across the page. With each line he read, his eyes widened in horror. As he reached the final words, his hands trembled. He lowered the letter and stared back at David.
“My God man! Arles never really was his target,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with anguish.
“I know. I can’t believe it myself.”
Doc stood, shaking his head in disbelief. A minute before, he couldn’t have imagined anything so disturbing.
“We have to stop him,” he said, his tone firm and resolute.
David nodded. “I won’t let him do this,” he responded.
Minutes later, two horses galloped through the camp, a trail of dust marking their departure.
-----*-----*-----*-----
Chapter 17
December 15th, 1864
Geoff breathed heavily as he ran through the sparsely populated forest. Sweat dripped from his cheeks and rolled rearward down his neck. His legs and feet were sore from the continuous jog, but he ignored his pain and continued on. As the morning light began to show, he could just make out the silhouette of Compton’s Hill in the distance. He stopped a moment to view its shape. His stomach churned knowing its rounded crest held a brigade of Confederate soldiers waiting to fire. Taking a large breath of air, he exhaled deeply, trying to expel his nervous tension. With little relief, he continued on toward his destination.
Two hours later, still jogging, the forest thinned out into rolling hills dotted with trees. Clear and distinct, Compton’s Hill loomed just ahead. He stopped to rest a moment. Hyperventilating, he labored to breathe. Taking deep breaths of air, he clung to a tree for support. Aside from the morning birds busy in their songs, the land was eerily quiet.
Suddenly, he heard the loud shriek of incoming shells. As the scream of the projectiles grew in volume, he leaped to the ground for protection. Just over a hill to his front, loud explosions shattered the morning peace. As he lay with his hands over his head, he felt the ground rumble and shake from the shell’s impact. Just as he leapt to his feet, more Confederate shells sounded out in the morning sky.
With the start of the battle, he knew he had little time left. Ignoring his safety, he charged ahead at full sprint. He ran down into a shallow dip in the land, then rushed back up the other side. As he crested a small bluff, he stopped dead in his tracks. Spread out along the base of Compton’s Hill, Union breastworks stretched around its landscape as far as the eye could see. Thousands of blue-coated men leaned into the wooden wall and held their rifles at the ready.
Once more, he heard the deafening roar of incoming shells. Instinctively, he dropped to the ground, thrust his hands over his head and waited. In seconds, more loud explosions thundered across the valley. Again, he leaped to his feet and charged for the protection of the breastworks a hundred yards away.
Running at full speed, he sprinted to the fullest extent of this ability. Pumping his arms and legs wildly, he focused on one spot at the wooden wall. He felt his lungs aching, screaming for him to stop. He knew he had little time to spare.
One hundred yards away from safety, he heard the loud cannon fire at the top of Compton’s Hill. Looking to the crest, he saw plumes of smoke drifting into the air.
“Oh no,” he whimpered feebly.
With little energy left, he searched deep within himself for any remaining reserves. Pushing himself to his breaking point, he felt his lungs would burst. Huffing desperately, he gasped for air as he ran.
Suddenly, he heard the telltale sound of the incoming shells. Streaking across the sky, he knew he was in trouble.
Sixty feet…
Fifty feet…
Forty feet…
He charged ahead, nearly on the edge of tripping. His legs began to cramp and he started to slow. Out of wind and out of strength, he stumbled forward, caught himself, but continued his run.
Thirty feet…
Twenty-five feet…
Twenty feet…
Geoff heard the sound of the shell roar toward him. With nothing left to give, he stumbled once again, fifteen feet short of the wooden barricade. He tumbled over the grass, heard the loud explosion and instinctively covered himself as he tried to lay flat.
Landing on the opposite side of the wooden wall, the artillery shell exploded. Instantly, its deadly shrapnel tore through the wall killing those behind it instantly. Those standing nearby, were killed as the molten metal flew over the top of the wall, imbedding in flesh and bone.
Geoff felt the dull pain across his body and cried out. Large and blunt, the object struck him, momentarily taking his breath away. He lay a moment collecting himself, then rolled to his side and rubbed his hands down his body, searching for blood. He brought his hands to his face and breathed a sigh of relief.
“No blood,” he said aloud.
He looked around him and noticed a heavy log lying beside him. Looking up at the hole in the breastworks, he realized the reason for his pain.
“Just a log,” he said to himself.
Suddenly, he heard another round of shells on their way. He grabbed his rifle off the ground and crawled behind the wooden wall. Seconds later, more explosions tore at the wall up and down the line. Cries of agony sounded from the men in the path of the molten metal.
“FIRE!”
All around him, Geoff heard the sound of rifles discharging their deadly payload. He stood behind the wall and watched thousands of men fire and reload at the speed of their own abilities. Some fired four shots per minute. Others were slower. The wave of lead hurling toward the top of the hill suddenly silenced the enemy’s aggression. Within minutes, the enemy at the top had regrouped and returned fire.
Bullets impacted the breastworks, sending splintered wood in all directions. Geoff quickly ducked the waves of lead. Listening intently, he waited for a break in the action. Moments later, as the Union line returned fire, he stood up again and surveyed the hill in front of him.
The gentle sloping hill was dotted with several trees not yet cut down for protection. Geoff noticed a large oak three-quarters of the way to the top. With large stumps spaced irregularly about the hill, he envisioned a path along them leading up to the large oak tree.
“That’s it. That’s my only chance,” he said to himself. “Now I just wait.”
Suddenly, he heard the call to charge. Every man jumped the breastworks and headed up the hill. Waves of Union soldiers ran at full speed, changing their course as they moved higher. Loading as they ran, they laid down punishing fire, pushing the Rebel line momentarily from their dug-in positions. Reloading and regrouping, the Rebel line forged a counterattack, sending the Union men back down the hill to their skirmish line.
For the next hour, the siege and retreat continued. With each charge of the Union line, the Rebel line weakened and with each Union advance, higher ground was attained.
-----*-----*-----*-----
As the battle raged around him, Geoff crouched down behind the wall and pretended to fire. Suddenly he heard a voice behind him.
“Soldier, fire that weapon.”
Geoff spun around and noticed a sergeant glaring at him. Instantly, the man noticed Geoff’s lieutenant’s bars on his applets.
“You talking to me?” Geoff asked, defiantly.
“Sorry Sir. I didn’t recognize your rank. I thought you were one of those cowardly soldiers.”
As another round of bullets roared down from the top, the sergeant took cover next to Geoff. Seeing his medical badge sewn to his hat, the sergeant recognized Geoff as a doctor.
“Sir, pardon my candor, but what are you doing here? Are you lost? The medical camp is up yonder, five miles north of here,” Sgt. Ellis said.
“I have other business here, Sergeant… secret business, and I need your help,” Geoff responded.
“Yes
Sir,” Sgt. Ellis responded respectfully.
-----*-----*-----*-----
With the next Union advance, the men pushed the Rebel line far from their defense. Only a handful stayed and fired. Inspired by their comrade’s courage, other Confederates braved the Union fire and returned to their stations. Minutes later, the Union line reluctantly retreated to the safety of the breastworks.
This was the moment Geoff was waiting for. He stared up at the hilltop. Every feeling, every thought screamed for him to stop. He swallowed hard and stood up.
Prisoner in Time (Time travel) Page 46
