Off To War (War Between The States)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  “Did we do it? Did we win?” he managed to choke out, his mind turning back toward the battle.

  “I don't know any of the details of the battle. I'm sorry.” Her voice was soft and soothing. He wouldn't mind having her do worse to his wound as long as she kept talking.

  “What of my friends?” His voice became urgent. “Daniel? Steven? Did they bring me in? Are they here?”

  Her eyes met his again. There was a sadness there. His breath caught.

  “I'm afraid I don't know anything about them either.”

  He let out his breath. There was hope.

  “Even if they were injured and in the hospital somewhere, I wouldn't know unless I’d treated them. I'm sorry, Jacob, but you'll have to be patient.” Her hand again fell on his shoulder.

  Jacob wasn't satisfied with her answers, but it wasn't her fault. Glancing around the hospital, he took in the scene anew. The amount of wounded was unimaginable. Every available bed and floor space was taken.

  “The doctors are making their way around as they can,” she offered. “Perhaps they know more.”

  Another wave of pain shot through him and he gritted his teeth against it, trying not to cry out in front of her. He only somewhat succeeded.

  Her brows furrowed.

  “Can I have something for the pain?”

  “I'll ask one of the nurses.” She turned her head.

  “You're not a nurse?” He jerked up in the bed. What was she doing tending to his wound?

  Turning toward him once again, she said, “I'm just someone who's helping out.”

  Her response had done nothing to assuage his concern. “But you cleaned my wound.”

  “I have had a little training,” she said, a small smile gracing her lips. “And now, I'm going to amaze you with my other skills.” She winked at him. “I'll redress your wound.”

  He afforded her a smile, easing back onto the pillow. She was rather enjoyable to be around.

  As she worked to redress the wound, she continued her attempts at conversation. “So, soldier, tell me about your girl back home.”

  “I, um, don't have a girl back home.” He focused on the top of the tent, trying to distract himself from what she was doing.

  “Come now, Jacob. Sandy blonde hair, hazel eyes, striking smile, and you expect me to believe you haven't got at least one girl back home.”

  He shrugged and nodded. “Guess I was always too busy with this or that to settle on one special girl.”

  “You keep them all guessing, is that it?” She winked at him again.

  “No,” he said, his face warming. “At least, not intentionally.” He studied her face then.

  “I bet you have a line of girls that would jump at the chance to be on your arm.”

  Was that true? It didn't seem at all likely, but maybe there were. She couldn’t mean that brunette, Clara. They were just friends. Not even good friends at that. Clara always seemed friendly, but he never thought she liked him that way. Couldn’t be. Or maybe she was just shy? He shook his head. There were always girls hanging around him at school. But none of those girls ever seemed interesting enough to hold his attention for long. And none of them had a smile like Melanie's.

  A man came from behind Melanie as she started to secure the bandages.

  “No need to tie that off, I'll be looking at it.”

  “Of course, doctor.” She let the ends of the bandage fall, slipping through her fingers.

  The doctor met Jacob's eyes. “Hello, soldier. I’m Dr. Smith. I just had to come and see the young man who helped advance the union line.”

  “You mean it worked?” Jacob tried to lift himself up on his elbows.

  “It sure did, soldier. The Union troops are holding strong having advanced the line to where you sneaked into that opening. There's a lot of talk about you around camp. You're a pretty fast runner, eh?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jacob felt his chest puff up.

  “Let's see what we can do to fix up this leg.” The doctor began unwrapping the bandages Melanie had just spent several minutes putting in place.

  As he maneuvered Jacob's leg, the pain came back full force. “Can I have something for the pain, doctor?”

  “Of course,” the older man said, patting his shoulder. “Of course.”

  The doctor turned to Melanie. “Go find my nurse. Tell her to bring the camp hero something for pain.”

  “Aye, aye!” Melanie said, smiling again at Jacob before walking off.

  The doctor unwrapped the bandage and studied the leg wound. Jacob watched Dr. Smith’s expression change as his smile fell ever so slightly before he caught himself. He then covered the wound again and patted Jacob's opposite knee.

  “You're going to be just fine,” he promised.

  Melanie returned with the nurse, who gave Jacob a shot of something. Immediately, the pain started to ease.

  The doctor spoke in hushed tones to the nurse. Melanie must have overheard because she piped up. As did his hold on reality.

  The doctor turned his back to Jacob who worked hard to follow what happened. It was difficult. Dr. Smith glanced over his shoulder at Jacob and then pulled the two women a little further away. Then he started to speak. But Jacob’s world swirled and the voices seemed distorted.

  He saw Melanie quite clearly, however. Why was she so adamant? Did the doctor make her mad? She was even prettier when she was upset.

  The pull to unconsciousness became too great and Jacob slipped further and further toward it. He wanted to stay awake and ask Melanie what had bothered her so, but the drugs won and he was soon surrounded by darkness.

  * * *

  Sound. The first thing on the edge of Elizabeth's consciousness; though the source of the sound was difficult to make out. With much effort, her eyes blinked open. Light. The world was hazy, but it was definitely daytime. She blinked. With each blink, the world came into sharper focus. It became apparent that she was in a tent. On a cot of some sort. And there was pain. From where?

  It required several minutes of concentration for her to identify that the pain radiated from her head. Reaching up, her fingers touched the soft gauze of a bandage. But moving her left arm had been a mistake. Pain shot through her shoulder. She let out a yelp. Then clamped her mouth shut, biting her lip to prevent any further utterances.

  Where was she? What had happened to her?

  The tent was large with many low cots as the one she lay on. And there were shelves stocked with all manner of things. But she was the sole occupant at the moment. Motion off to her right drew her attention. A woman rushed into the tent, coming directly for her. So her movements and vocalizations had alerted at least one person to her presence.

  Elizabeth searched for some place to run, some place to hide. But she doubted she could do either in her current state. She would just have to stand her ground and hope for the best. Her gaze returned to the woman advancing on her.

  The woman had a stern face, the kind of face that had witnessed too much and had little compassion left to offer.

  “Try not to move so quickly,” the woman’s sharp voice came as she halted just short of Elizabeth’s figure. “Doctor,” the woman called, looking somewhere off to her left. “Doctor, she's awake.”

  The tent flap opened again and another blurry figure appeared. A man this time. Few long strides were needed to bring him to Elizabeth’s side. His face held more kindness than the woman's, though it betrayed more years.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, pulling at the shoulder of her nightdress only enough to bare her wound.

  Elizabeth stared at the two strangers. Could she trust them? She didn't even know where she was. Everything seemed hazy. No real details came to her about where she had been, what led to her injuries, nothing. But these people were, by all appearances, the ones who had patched her up. Perhaps it was worth the risk.

  “I'm in some pain. My head, my shoulder.”

  “Just as I expected,” the doctor said. “But you can hear. You can tal
k. Can you see all right? How many fingers am I holding up?”

  At first his fingers were hazy, but the world became clearer by the second.

  “Four.”

  “Good.” He took a deep breath. “Do you remember how you ended up here?”

  She shifted her gaze between the two. Was this some sort of game? Didn’t they know? Her head ached just thinking about it. So she closed her eyes briefly, opening them to gauge the doctor’s reaction. “No.”

  If that surprised the doctor, he didn't show it. “You came to us with a gunshot wound and a concussion. That's probably why you don't remember the injury. We were quite surprised to find out you were a woman.”

  “What?” Why would that surprise them?

  “Because you posed as a soldier.” He spoke matter-of-factly.

  “I was what?” He spoke nonsense. Pose as a soldier?

  The doctor's impassive expression melted to one of concern.

  “What do you remember?”

  Elizabeth again fought through a growing headache to search out some detail, some answer, some clue about herself.

  “Nothing,” she said, her voice rising.

  “When you say nothing…” the doctor started then stopped. “Can you tell me your name?”

  She hunted for that piece of information, which should be so simple. But there was nothing. A big blank. It wouldn’t come to her.

  “No.” Try as she might to fight them, tears threatened to fall.

  “Can you tell me anything about yourself? Where you're from? How old you are?”

  “No!” came her immediate answer. What was she going to do? Without any knowledge of who she was? Was she even safe here? Moving to sit up, pain shot through her again.

  “Calm down,” the doctor soothed, his hands on her arms, gently pressing, encouraging her to lie back. “It will be all right.”

  “What is the last thing you do remember?”

  Elizabeth searched the darkness of her mind. “Waking here.”

  The doctor and nurse exchanged a look. Elizabeth twitched, unable to remain still.

  “What's wrong with me? What's going to happen to me?” Shifting in the cot, she tried to sit up again.

  The doctor and nurse both laid hands on her to stop her from doing so.

  “Calm yourself,” the doctor said, a bit more firmly. “You are safe. We'll find all the answers you need. You have amnesia. You've lost your memory.”

  “Amnesia?” Elizabeth lay back, forcing herself to breathe.

  “Yes. In many cases, patients are able to remember everything eventually. So, don't worry. I assure you, everything will be just fine.”

  Elizabeth wanted to believe him. But how was she to remain calm? She had lost who she was! Were there people looking for her? The same people who had harmed her?

  “Right now, I think it's important you get some rest,” the doctor said, glancing over at the nurse.

  Elizabeth nodded after a few moments, leaning back into the pillow. She let her eyes close to appease the doctor and nurse. Sensing the doctor and nurse moving away, she strained to hear them. They spoke not too far away, but try as she might, she could not make out what they said. So, she instead concentrated on finding a memory beyond two minutes ago. But, it was useless. It was all a blank.

  * * *

  Matthew slammed his hand on the table harder than he intended. His palm stung, and the vibrations coursed through his entire body, including his injured arm, tucked into a sling.

  “Would you listen to the doctor? It's amnesia!” he argued.

  “I don't care,” the colonel said. “We cannot risk a Union spy in our midst.”

  Mathew pushed out a breath through clenched teeth and shoved himself away from the table. They had already gone around and around about this. And now they were practically in each others' faces.

  “Look, Mr. Tucker,” Lieutenant Colonel Simmons piped up from the sidelines, “I know she probably saved your life, but we don't have the luxury of giving prisoners such considerations. We have to think about a whole camp of men. What of the cost to those men if she were to carry off information about our location to her Union Commander, Lieutenant?”

  They were right. Matthew also risked insubordination charges speaking to his commanding officers the way he was, but he couldn't stop himself. “And just how do you suppose she's going to do that if she can't even remember her own name?”

  The colonel's eyes met Matthew’s. Steely gray eyes narrowed. Matthew had run up against his commanding officer's limits.

  “Sir,” Matthew added as he took a step back.

  The tension in the colonel's shoulders eased.

  “Doctor, what kind of guarantee can you give me that the prisoner is not faking her amnesia?” the colonel asked.

  Matthew had almost forgotten that the doctor was there.

  “She's not faking the concussion. However, I cannot guarantee that she's not faking the amnesia, no matter how improbable I find it.”

  “There. It's possible she's making this whole thing up in order to receive better treatment.”

  The colonel and Matthew glared at one another. Who would speak first?

  “What if I vouch for her, sir?” Dr. Wilson spoke up.

  The colonel paused. Matthew knew it wasn't easy for him to go against the doctor's word. Perhaps the colonel would see reason and remember that this helpless woman was in this mess because of one of his trigger-happy soldiers. If they had bothered to capture her properly, they would have a prisoner, not a patient. And this whole discussion would be moot.

  “She will be restricted to the hospital…” the colonel began.

  Matthew opened his mouth to protest.

  “…until such time as we can determine for certain that she is not a threat.” The colonel stood to his full height. This was his final offer.

  A fair compromise. No one would be completely happy with the decision, but wasn't that the basis of all good compromises?

  “Thank you, gentlemen, you're all dismissed,” the colonel said, sitting and shuffling some papers on his desk. It was clear he was done with this matter.

  Matthew and Dr. Wilson moved out of the tent. The doctor stepped toward the hospital, moving with a purpose. It meant Matthew had to pick up his step if he wanted to speak with him.

  “Doctor,” he called.

  Dr. Wilson turned and allowed Matthew a moment to catch up.

  “Thank you,” he said, meeting the doctor's eyes. “For the support in there.”

  “Not a problem,” Dr. Wilson replied. “I only spoke the truth.”

  Matthew smiled at him. “When, ah, when can I see her?”

  “Now, if you'd like. I can't say how receptive she'll be. But you're welcome to come and see her.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  They walked in silence the remainder of the way to the hospital tent. Matthew attempted to shake off the heated discussion as fresh memories of the battle, and of her, flooded his mind. The moment she had appeared over him out on that battlefield, he had been sure she was an angel sent from heaven. As she had come into focus, he then thought she was a Union soldier ready to finish him off. But then, against all odds, she had helped him, saved him. Only to be shot down in the midst of her attempted rescue. Guilt for her predicament washed over him. Perhaps that’s why he fought so hard for her to be treated well.

  The oversized hospital tent loomed in front of him. What would it be like to see her again? His glimpses of her whilst in the hospital just after being brought back to camp had been limited. He wasn’t sure he could say he would know her on sight in the least. Except, those eyes.

  Matthew followed Dr. Wilson into the tent. The good doctor wasted no time in moving through the tent toward their destination. For his part, Matthew tried to glance around the man. It wasn’t until they slowed to a stop and the doctor stepped to the side that he was able to see her.

  She sat on the thin cot, eating rations, eyes widened as she watched him. Her gaze darted betwe
en him and the doctor. The skin of her face had been cleaned. It was fair, creamy even. And though her head was bandaged, the curly blonde hair that cascaded down past her shoulders appeared freshly cleaned as well. Quite lovely. He blinked a few times and resisted the urge to shake his head to clear it.

  “How are you feeling?” The doctor lifted her chart to check the latest entry.

  “Much better now that I have some food in me.” Her eyes followed Matthew’s subtle movements.

  “This is someone who wanted to come and visit, if that's all right,” Dr. Wilson explained.

  “Do I know you?” It was a question, but also a statement. There was recognition in her eyes. Did she have some vague memory of him?

  “You saved me,” he said, moving closer to her cot. “Out on the battlefield.”

  Her head tilted to the side as if she tried to recollect the incident, but any hint of recognition that had been in her eyes was gone.

  He looked to the ground, to the side table, anywhere but at her. “I wanted to come by and thank you. But I can see that you're busy. I'll get out of…” He turned to leave, but she interrupted him.

  “And you. Are you the one who brought me here?”

  He stopped. Then turned slowly and met her gaze before nodding.

  “So, I should be thanking you, too. For saving me.”

  “You're most welcome.” He returned to his place by her cot. Her blue eyes captured him; they were the same hue as his. Truly she was beautiful, even in a hospital bed, all bandaged up. She was an angel, fallen to earth.

  Dr. Wilson cleared his throat. “I'll leave you two to talk,” he said before moving across the tent.

  After several seconds, Matthew pulled a chair over to sit next to Elizabeth.

  She continued to glare at him as if she still tried to place him.

  “Do you know where I come from?” she asked, hopeful.

  “Sorry, no,” he shook his head.

  “What about my name?”

  He shook his head again.

  “So, I saved you and that's it?”