Dawn broke the following morning to the eerie cries of hundreds of ugly black-winged scavengers. The battle flags hung limp among the leafless, smoke-scorched trees. The stifling pall of smoke and dust hung heavy on the shoulders of both armies, who were grimly attempting to bury their dead, gather their wounded and melt away into the hills seeking refuge until they should meet again only God knew where.
Asa watched David gathering his belongings with concern. Something didn’t seem quite right.
“You hurtin’, Davy?” He ventured to ask.
The older man mumbled something while stuffing his gear into the greasy, tattered haversack and the brothers hastened to rejoin their outfits as the sun progressed across what had been just yesterday a green grassy field alongside a peaceful burbling brook. Littered with bodies ravaged by shot and shell and now being plucked clean by the swarms of black carrion crows that looked like the imps of hell to the younger brother, the pair mounted up. Asa took note of the blank, glazed expression on David’s face and choked back the cry of distress that threatened to overwhelm him.
“We better find you a doctor, quick,” he managed to mumble. His brother said nothing and the two shocked and battle-weary men rode in silence. Much of what was left of General Buell’s Union Army was making its way along the road leading away from the stream that had lured both Rebel and Yank into this bucolic byway. It appeared to have been a farmer’s field; surely it must have seen many a picnic and served as a pleasant spot for a romantic interlude over the years Asa thought as he guided his skittish horse away from the sight and smell filling his mind with a horror never before even imagined. Choking back his scalding tears he kept a close eye on David who was appearing weaker by the mile. Despite his grim determination to ignore the scene around him, the sense of diabolical evil filled his mind, stabbing his gut with almost unbearable pain. He felt himself swaying in the saddle and reined up suddenly just in time to prevent the inevitable sick spasm from dirtying his horse. “Today I’ve seen the very gates of hell,” he muttered. “I will never again be the man I was.”
Davy and me, he went on silently, letting the horse pick its own way along the road, we joined up full of purpose at the President’s and the Governor’s requests. We would show those uppity plantation owners with their black slaves and fancy way of life that ordinary folk like us were just as good if not better than they think they are. Lincoln says we must preserve the Union. How could those southerners think they could exist as a separate country? Seems obvious to me we need to stick together or hang separately as someone is supposed to have said when they was writing up that Constitution. Course, he admitted to himself, if that’s what the rebels want then I guess they should have it. It’s free country we always say. But whether secession or preservation, nothing is worth what I’ve seen happen here today, brother fighting brother, sons fighting fathers, friends fighting friends. What lurks in our hearts that any of us could bring himself to murder his fellow man with such violence? It’s just evil, plain and simple pure evil. War always has been, I suppose.
The horse shied from the swooping vultures causing Asa to steady himself and grab the reins more tightly. His thoughts continued spilling and spinning through his mind. I can not begin to count how many men died here today, each one thinking he was fighting for some glorious cause. It is our duty the chaplain says. We must preserve the Union. Is that really why we are fighting or is it simply because those men in South Carolina had the audacity to fire on the Federal fort in their harbor? I suppose that could be considered a criminal act of treason. Whatever it was, is slaughter like this necessary?
David moaned and slumped in his saddle. Asa quickly reached his side and grabbed the slack reins to bring both horses to a slow trot. “Hold on Davy, I see a mark on that house just ahead. If we’re lucky there might be a doctor there.”
Scores of injured men lay spread out in every direction waiting for attention. Obviously treatment for David’s wound would be slow in coming. Asa was forced, at his brother’s insistence, to hurry ahead to rejoin their outfit before they were both listed as either dead, missing or deserters. After quickly seeing to a bit of food and water for their horses, he thanked the young lad who had come from the house to help and reluctantly left David’s and mounted his own, his heart sick with worry as he spurred the skittish animal forward onto the fouled and bloody road.
Within just a few short miles he quickly became aware that every available house or building for miles around had been pressed into use as a medical facility. What sort of care the injured would receive was beyond his ability to imagine. Pulling his cap down he rode on, hoping to hide his tears. His thoughts whirled with the nightmarish visions. I thought the battlefield was terrible, but this is worse, he murmured under his breath. What was it the chaplain was going on about the other day… something about souls in purgatory? The scene of wide-spread suffering and cries of pain that not only followed but lay ahead of him forced him to urge his horse into a cantor and attempt to blank out the memory of the look in his brother’s eyes as they had parted, Leaving him there is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. God forgive me, but he said I had to get back to our outfit or I could be shot for a deserter.
A blood red sun was sinking behind the mountain tops when the remains of the Union Army came into view. Asa hurried to report and was greeted curtly. Rumors were spreading through the ranks that Lincoln had already relieved their General Don Carlos Buell of his command because of his failure to push on and destroy the Confederate forces when he had the chance. The fight at Perryville had been a fiasco. Thousands lay dead and wounded and for what Asa was left to wonder. Word had it that the Rebels had actually won the day but had not pressed on either. No one seemed to know what was going to happen next. Feeling much older than his not quite nineteen years, Asa, unsure of even reaching his next birthday, rubbed down the exhausted horse, watered and fed it and went in search of a place to lay his head. The camp seemed like one enormous beast thrashing about and growling in a fitful sleep.
Chapter Two
Aftermath, October 9, 1862
On the road out of Perryville, Kentucky
The Union Army of the Ohio, rechristened the Army of the Cumberland, was now under the command of General William Rosecrans. Licking its wounds, it regrouped and slowly made its way across unfamiliar terrain, the men nursing both their battered bodies and minds fueled by flying rumors. Although the survivors realized they had not been victorious they soon learned they had succeeded in keeping Kentucky in the Union.
With the pale sun’s rays streaking the murky morning sky, Asa, disheartened and deeply troubled by having left David behind, had gathered up his gear and mounted with his unit. As he and the weary troops made their way through the ruined countryside he wondered what had possessed him to join up last year thinking this war would be one grand adventure. When the Governor’s call for more troops had come he and David had readily enlisted. Now that David was likely to be invalided out he was left to make his way through this strange and harrowing experience alone. From what he’d seen of the wound, his elder brother would not be considered fit for duty any time soon, if at all. Well, the disillusioned and disheartened soldier thought, he isn’t dead, thank God and he’s out of this unholy mess. It’s up to me to help put this insanity to an end. He stared around as if seeing the road for the first time and shook his head. The only thing familiar beside the blue backs of the men riding in front of him was the horse he’d been assigned. He’d left David’s mount behind hoping that it would still be there when he would be able to travel. Somehow he doubted it. His thoughts went to their younger brother Thomas who had enlisted when the first call for troops had come and was now with the Army of the Potomac sitting in that ring of camps whose purpose was to protect the City of Washington. He smiled grimly, realizing Tom was not likely to be any better off than he was since the Confederate Army of Lee’s was spread out not much more than a hundred miles a
way protecting Richmond.
Letting his thoughts continue, a frown crossed his face and he stopped to blow his nose.” That crazy kid,” he sputtered, “signing up like that. He isn’t even as old as me and the fellows here call me ‘boy.’
Asa settled himself into the rhythmic motion of the slow trot his mount had adopted and let his thoughts go wherever they were inclined.
We get so little news about anything it’s hard to know just what is going on, he mused careful not to let the horse stop to munch the grass. A flick of the reins caused the animal’s ears to prick up but it continued on willingly enough. Asa patted his breast pocket and smiled. I couldn’t believe it when I was handed this letter with news of our neighbors, the Kunkles, the other day. It’s taken a long time to catch up with me and it was sure a big shock to read Miss Becky say that her brother George joined up last February and has been taken prisoner at that battle we call Bull Run. I’m told the Rebs call it Manassas. Of course, they would have to claim we’re the ones that are wrong. I don’t suppose it matters what you call it. I just sure hope he will be all right. Folks say those camps are nothing but hell-holes. She also says that her younger brother, Wesley, has joined up as well. She thinks he is posted somewhere near my brother, Thomas. I hope she’s right about that. It will be good for each of them to have a familiar face to see once in a while. Those two are just boys for heaven’s sake, may the Good Lord be with them.
Steadying his horse that had shied from something unpleasant lying in the road he let her words warm his heart. Despite the bad news, he told himself, I have to admit her letter was a very welcome surprise. Something from home is always a good thing. The way she describes the bright fall colors makes me homesick. I do think October is one of my very favorite months. These mountains are pretty enough but they’re not the same as home. The trees here are different. Everything is different. Of course, it’s hard to enjoy what you see when you don’t know what might be around the next corner.
Reining in again he let his mind go back to the letter. Rebecca hadn’t said much about Jacob or Wesley except that Tom had told her they were close by. We’ve been on the road so long I hardly expected the mail would find us at all. Must be she writes to Tom as well as me and of course to her brothers. Of course she would. That’s how she is. Funny how I never paid her all that much attention while we were growing up…we were all just neighbors, kids playing together. He shifted in the saddle, causing the horse to hesitate and whinny. Prodding it with his knee he smiled, feeling a lump rise in his throat. She sure did look pretty that day we lined up and marched away. I was so full of myself and scared to death if the truth be known, but she was there in that flowery dress with the big white collar and that bit of blue ribbon at the neck. She looked as sweet as the shiny apples she was passing out to all the fellows as we shuffled about not really sure of what we were getting ourselves into. Just as well we didn’t, I guess. Never in my worst nightmares could I have imagined such horror.
The horse whinnied again, protesting the lack of direction it was getting. Asa grinned, shaking his shoulders and giving his mount another nudge. “Walk on!” he muttered realizing the other men were grinning at him.
Chapter Three
A Farmhouse in Perryville
Early evening of the 9th
David roused himself as someone looking like an angel from Heaven approached him. He suddenly felt hot with shame at his slovenly condition. Spattered with mud and blood and his face streaked with grime that Asa had tried unsuccessfully to cleanse before leaving him, he attempted to raise his head. A firm hand pressed gently on his chest. “Steady, soldier,” a voice from above said softly. The angel was sponging his face with something soft and warm. The voice encouraged him to lie still. “I’d like to take a closer look at your wound,” it said. “Try not to move,” Someone lifted his head slightly and offered a sip of whiskey. His throat contracted as the liquid dribbled down his chin. He moaned and the angel spoke, but not to him.
“Looks bad, but let me try to clean him up a bit first. There’s nothing here but whiskey to dull the pain and not too much of that left, I’m afraid.”
Her companion nodded; his face grim. “Look at them,” he sighed, “poor devils, just boys most of them…blue suits, gray suits, all in here together. Out there trying to kill one another and now in here trying to stay alive. Too many of ’em hurt too bad to help, but I think I can save this one. That’s a nasty shoulder wound but the arm looks to be all right if I can stop the bleeding.” The soft voice soothed while the other faded away. Hands offered him more whisky and he managed to swallow some this time. Darkness took him as he sank back exhausted. He felt icy cold.
The gray light of dawn flickered through the shuttered windows of what appeared to David to have been the parlor of a farmhouse. Bodies of injured men lay in somewhat orderly rows as the women of the household attempted to attend to their wounds. The few doctors available were hurrying between the scattered homes that were overwhelmed by the bloody results of the battle fought that day on their no longer productive fields.
David gritted his teeth and tried to sit up. A firm hand gently restrained him and he lay back exhausted from the effort.
“Easy soldier,” a male voice murmured. “Looks to me like you’ve seen your last battle; you’ll keep the arm I think provided you don’t get it infected, but it’s not likely you’ll wield a saber again.”
“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that,” David muttered, “but I need to find my little brother. We were together. I‘m supposed to be looking after him. He’s not in here somewhere, is he?
The angel’s hand stroked his face and her voice came as if from a long distance away. “Not to worry, he’s hale and hearty. A bit upset of course, but he brought you in and gave strict orders to look after you properly. He was worried about catching up with your outfit…afraid they would think him a deserter if he didn’t report in by tonight.”
Managing a feeble grin, the injured man lay back. “Good boy, I taught him right, I guess. You say I’m unfit for duty?” He clutched at what he thought must be the doctor’s hand as the man finished applying the clean dressing to the deep cut in his shoulder.
“The muscle in your shoulder is badly torn. Likely it will heal as I say, but no telling how long it will take for any strength to return. I’d say you’ll not be swinging an ax or lifting anything heavier than a coffee mug for quite some time. Sorry about that if you were planning on staying around for awhile, but from my point of view you’re one of the lucky ones. There’s too many out there with no arm at all. Rest up another day here, then report to your outfit with this certificate I’m writing up for you. Your fighting days are over, Private”
The angel’s face wavered into view and David’s eyes met hers with gratitude as she wiped the tears that trickled down his cheek. Whether they were of joy or sorrow, he didn’t know.
When he managed to mount his horse a few days later he took one long look around at what had just a few days earlier been a peaceful farmhouse with mostly women and young boys as inhabitants. What hath God wrought? He asked himself in disbelief. Without these women many more of us would have surely died and now we ride on with no way to even thank them for their effort. We have laid waste to their livelihood and are leaving them bereft of all that is good.
Sick at heart and trying to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder, David urged the horse forward. He’d been astonished to find the animal cared for and patiently waiting for him to claim. One of the youngsters had apparently been tending the collection of rider-less horses that had taken refuge there as well and somehow managed to have kept track of their owners.
With no real sense of which direction to take David followed the signs left by the passage of large numbers of men and machines. He noticed as he passed that the fields had been stripped of whatever crop had been growing there. Rows of withered corn stalks rattled in the breeze that grew colder b
y the hour as the shadows crept across the hills and he shivered at the sight of a blood red sun setting behind the dark peaks of the smoky-colored hills. He’d been told he was in the state of Kentucky but was totally unaware of what that meant. The Army would be seeking the river, that he knew, but where does it lie and what would happen next were questions he couldn’t ask.
“Follow the road,” he muttered through clenched teeth. Where he would even find food was another question he couldn’t answer. He soon became aware, as Asa had done, that every house of any sort for miles around had been pressed into serving the wounded and dying men from both armies. “Enemies in life but brothers in death,” he sighed. Where is the sense in that? Like his brother, David searched his heart for the underlying reason for the conflict. What he had believed a short while ago lay dead on the battlefield.
For most of the day he and the patient horse trotted along past devastated fields and through small hamlets uncertain of their welcome. Eyes followed him as he made his way down the rutted roads and passed the shuttered shops and houses. The few people he saw avoided his gaze. Neither army was welcome here was the message. His shoulder screamed for medicine he didn’t have. His brain seemed to have shut down and he rode on without thinking, letting the animal follow its chosen path.
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