Off To War (War Between The States)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  “Matthew?”

  Without anything further, he walked off.

  What action might he take? How hurt was he? He seemed quite angry by what had happened between them. And she had not done a good job of communicating her thoughts and feelings. Would he go to the colonel? Would he do something to John? Nothing was certain.

  One thing she did know—she had to get herself and John out of camp. How was she to accomplish this? Trying to clear her mind to think, she knew there would be enough obstacles without the added problems presented by whatever Matthew might do. But she couldn't afford to make guesses about that. No, she had to form a plan for John's escape. Now.

  To get him out safely, they would have to subdue his guard and sneak out of the camp. Everything else they could worry about later. Timing was everything. By now, most of the soldiers were enjoying their evening rations and each other's company. So, once they passed the obstacle of the soldier guarding John, they would have little trouble fleeing the camp. She hoped. But she had never moved through camp at that hour thinking about how many soldiers she did or did not pass.

  Elizabeth walked back to camp, uneasy as she entered the familiar grounds. As she passed people she knew, she exchanged nervous smiles, unaware of what they may or may not know. She became suspicious of everyone. The soldiers were making their way to where dinner rations were distributed.

  Slipping back into the hospital, Elizabeth gathered what few personal possessions she acquired during her stay. She fought back tears as nearly all of them made her think of Matthew. Sneaking over to the laundry, she grabbed a confederate uniform that she prayed would fit John. Then she made her way to the prisoner's tent.

  The guard stopped her upon approach, but she was ready with her story.

  “The nurses have decided that the prisoner's uniform is no longer sanitary. It needs to be washed. But, I doubt that Union blue will come back from the laundry in one piece,” she said with a smirk.

  As usual, he showed little emotion, just shot her a skeptical look. That must be his job—to intimidate everyone. Evidently, it wasn't his job to determine how crazy the story sounded, because he let her pass.

  Once in the tent, John rushed to her, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her the way she wanted him to in the hospital.

  She responded, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer.

  When they pulled apart, her head spun, dizzy from him.

  “We have to leave at once!” she managed as she returned to her senses.

  “We what?” he whispered.

  “I told Matthew everything and it didn't go well. I don't know what he's going to do. I fear he might turn me in.”

  He nodded. “Then we must leave tonight.”

  She held up the Confederate uniform. “For you.”

  He took it from her and began unbuttoning his Union jacket.

  She turned her back to him.

  “I can't say that I ever thought I'd be happy to put on a Confederate uniform,” John said as he pulled on the jacket.

  Elizabeth laughed a little. “Desperate times…”

  There was a rustle of clothing behind her and she imagined he was exchanging the pants of his uniform for the Confederate pants.

  “All things considered, I'm at least glad to have some clean clothes.”

  “That uniform must have been through a lot,” she mused. But it wasn't the uniform she thought of. She imagined what John endured since his capture. One day she would ask him, but now was not the time.

  A tap on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see John, now clad in Confederate gray. She smiled, giving him the once over.

  Both of their heads jerked toward the tent entrance as they heard muffled voices just outside.

  Elizabeth was gripped with fear. They might have been able to take out one guard, but if there were more than one soldier out there, they were pretty much stuck. Had someone come to collect her?

  The voices conversed. But try as she might, Elizabeth could not discern what was said.

  Then a scuffle broke out. Elizabeth reached for John as he pulled her into his arms. After several seconds, everything was quiet. John maneuvered his body between Elizabeth and the opening, but she refused to be moved. She wanted to be by his side. They would face their destiny together.

  Matthew burst into the tent.

  What was his plan? Why had he subdued the guard?

  A low grumble escaped from John’s throat.

  “What are you waiting for? Let's go!” Matthew held the tent flap open.

  Elizabeth and John exchanged a look. But they didn't have the luxury of questioning whether or not they trusted Matthew, this was their chance. So they followed him. John moved first, keeping a hand on Elizabeth, drawing her closely behind himself. Would there be a company of soldiers with guns pointed at them?

  Once they were outside, nothing but darkness greeted them. And the sight of the guard incapacitated on the ground.

  Elizabeth looked over to meet Matthew's eyes, but his attention was focused elsewhere, checking the immediate area for any sign of movement. When he did turn back toward John and Elizabeth, it was to crouch down and grab the guard's weapon.

  “Here,” he said, handing it to John. “You know how to handle a weapon?”

  John nodded. He must have received at least some rudimentary training along the way.

  Elizabeth saw the glint of metal off Matthew's own gun shining in the moonlight as he moved around the side of the tent.

  “This way.” Matthew motioned for them to follow.

  John indicated for Elizabeth to follow Matthew and that he would take up the rear. Moving through the camp without making a sound, they stayed close to the tents. Matthew maneuvered in such a way as to keep them away from any activity. It was a miracle, but they neared the edge of camp and had not been noticed.

  A scream pierced the night, yelling that the prisoner had escaped.

  Elizabeth’s heart raced. What were they to do now? Could they outrun a group of armed soldiers? They needed a distraction.

  “Run,” Matthew told them. “Run for the trees.” He pointed northwest. What was he planning to do?

  “Come with us, Matthew,” Elizabeth begged. How could he not come with them?

  “I can't. Don't worry about me, Annabelle, I'll be fine.”

  She took a moment to embrace him. “I do love you, Matthew. Don't ever forget that.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

  All too soon it was over and they parted ways. John pulled at her arm, urging her toward the tree line and Matthew ran in the opposite direction toward the stream. She knew she would never see him again.

  Chapter Eight

  Vows

  AFTER A NIGHT of running, John began to tire. And Elizabeth started to slow. He did what he could to find places for them to stop and hide along the way to catch their breath. But they shouldn’t try for long. The soldiers would catch them.

  Neither of them were outdoorsmen however, and he worried if they were, in fact, moving in the right direction. Then the sun rose on the wrong side of the sky. John hung his head. They had been running farther south most of the night.

  He turned toward Elizabeth, who leaned against a tree trunk, bent over with a hand on her stomach.

  “I am so sorry!”

  Elizabeth looked up at the coming dawn. But to her credit, she did not dismay. Rather she stepped over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You didn't know. Besides, it may have saved our lives. I doubt those Confederate soldiers would have been looking for us farther south.”

  He smiled, warmth spreading through his chest. “That's one of the many things I love about you, Lizzie. You're always able to see the bright side.” Leaning forward, he kissed the tip of her nose.

  She returned his smile.

  “But we'd better head north, now that we know.” John motioned in that direction.

  “I don't mean to complain,” Elizabeth said, tugging on his arm. “But I don
't think I can go much further without some rest and water.”

  Her eyes reflected how tired he felt. “Let's find a place to bed down for a little while.”

  They moved around the forest until he spotted a clearing that was suitably well-shaded. John sat on the grass, laying his gun on the ground. He must keep it no more than an arm's length away.

  Bidding Elizabeth come toward him, he indicated the ground next to him. She sat beside him. But instead of stretching out, she caught his eyes. Why was she not lying down?

  “Go ahead.” He waved his hand. “I’ll keep watch.”

  “You need rest as much as I do.”

  He lost himself in her eyes for a moment. How he had missed her! Reaching a hand across the space between them, he grazed the side of her face.

  “I’ll be all right. You rest.”

  “There cannot be such danger here that you cannot take a moment to sleep.”

  Her concern touched him. “All the same, I will keep watch. We cannot be too careful.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, then stretched out beside him, giving him her back.

  All was silent for several moments. Had she gone to sleep?

  Then she stirred. Propping herself up on her elbow, she leaned back so that she could look at him over her shoulder.

  “Something troubles you?”

  “The ground is not the most comfortable surface.”

  “Says the woman who made a campsite her home.” He smiled and looked down at his clasped hands. She was quite the little manipulator. When he glanced toward her again, she had the most innocent, pleading expression on her face. “All right. But only until you fall asleep.”

  John maneuvered his body so that he lay beside her, but on his back. She turned and snuggled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. Her silken hair against his jaw, her warm breath on his neck, it was enough to drive a man crazy. Wrapping a protective arm around her, he pulled her closer. But he dare not move any more.

  No sooner had they stilled than he heard the pattern of Elizabeth’s breathing alter. There was little doubt that she was deep in sleep.

  * * *

  There had not been much brightness or laughter in the Moore home since the last missive came concerning Benjamin. Henry's step picked up when he saw a letter in Jacob's handwriting. It had been too long since they'd heard from their younger son. They had begun to fear the worst. Martha could not handle any more bad news. So a sign of life from Jacob would be something that might perk up their spirits and give them hope.

  Henry entered the solemn house and set his jacket and hat on the coat rack. He moved toward the parlor where he found his wife sewing and his daughter drawing. Ever since the news had come, Martha wanted Susan with her whenever possible. It seemed as if she were fearful to be alone.

  “I have a letter from Jacob,” he said, poking his head into their space.

  Martha's head jerked up.

  “Jacob! Oh, Father, do read it now,” Susan pleaded. “I don't think I can wait until after dinner.”

  Martha's eyes begged the same.

  “All right, darling.” It was directed to his daughter, but said more for his wife. “But just this once.”

  He sat in his chair and Susan curled by his feet, but Martha stayed where she was.

  “Dear Mother, Father, and Susan,

  “I am sorry I haven't written for so long. There is no excuse for my delay in writing you other than my inability to come up the words. As you know, I was injured in battle. It is my left leg and the doctors and nurses have tried very hard to do what they can for me. There is a young woman here named Melanie who spends time with me every day cleaning my wound and keeping me company. I could not find the right way to tell you without worrying you. But I now have to tell you that they were not able to save my leg.”

  Henry paused and Martha gasped.

  “What does that mean, Father?” Susan's eyes were wide.

  He ignored her and continued reading. “Please do not be upset. I have come to be at peace with it. You should be glad to know it means I won't be fighting anymore and will be sent home soon. And I am eager to be home. War was not what I had expected and I cannot say I will remember my time here well. Except for the people I met. I miss you all, I miss home, and I look forward to being with you soon. Love, Jacob P.S. Thank you for the package. You don't know what it has meant to me. Both the treats and your letters.'”

  Henry and his wife exchanged a look. Martha wiped away tears with her handkerchief. There was nothing he could say to make her feel any better. So he remained silent.

  “Father, what's wrong with Jacob? Is he coming home?” Susan's questions came at him.

  He did not want to answer her, but he couldn't put his daughter off. She needed answers. At least the best answers he could give her.

  “Yes, dearest, he's coming home soon. Do you remember when I said he would be different when he came home?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, one way he is going to be different is that he won't have part of his leg anymore.” He choked on the last words and tried to cover it up with a cough.

  “What happened to it?” Her questions were so innocent. If only he could protect her from the hard things of this world. But life had dealt them a hard blow. Twice.

  “There was an accident.” His eyes moved from Susan's face to Martha's. She watched him, but continued to dab at her tears that now flowed freely.

  “What kind of accident?”

  “That's not important.” He was determined that he would shield her from what atrocities he could. “What's important is that we love him just the same, right?”

  “Of course, Father.” Susan's words were confident, as if there was never a question about her love for her brother.

  It brought a smile to his face. “Good. Because he needs to know we love him now more than ever.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth awoke to the sound of birds chirping high above her. A glance skyward told her it was mid-day. Eyes turning toward John, she found him watching her. How long had he been awake? Had he been waiting on her? Letting her get as much rest as she needed? She sat up, looking down at him to thank him for his kindness. The grimace on his face gave her pause.

  “What is it?”

  “My arm.” He sat up, rubbing the offended limb. “It was asleep and now there is blood flowing back into it. Not the most pleasant feeling.”

  “I'm sorry.” Guilt stabbed at her. He didn't have to let her sleep so long.

  “Don't be. I enjoyed our little nap.” He reached over and cupped her face, drawing it closer to his for a gentle kiss. “Before we get started, I think we need to find some food and water.”

  Elizabeth nodded, her stomach rumbling at the mention of food.

  “While you were sleeping, I heard the sounds of a stream coming from that direction.” John indicated what Elizabeth guessed to be west.

  Standing, Elizabeth stretched. Turning to help John up, she found him halfway to his feet, moving his arm around in its socket. He then reached for her hand and they made their way to the stream. Along the way, they took advantage of the berries and nuts they found to eat. It was not enough to fill their stomachs, but enough to sustain them.

  At the water's edge, they drank their fill. Elizabeth wished they had something to gather water in so they could carry some along.

  “I think we should follow the stream. As far as I can determine, this is north.” He pointed upstream.

  It was a sound plan.

  “Ready?” He stood, having slaked his thirst. Holding out a hand to help her up, he seemed eager to press on.

  She grabbed his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “As ready as I can be.”

  He led the way along the stream’s bank, and she fell into step beside him. They walked in silence for quite a while, concentrating on where their feet fell.

  John broke the silence after some time. “How did you come to be at that camp?”

  El
izabeth didn't want to answer, but she had to tell him the truth sometime. “I, um, I was captured from your camp.”

  “What?” John stopped.

  “Yes, I hid from you as a sanitary assistant at your camp,” Elizabeth said. Her face warmed. As much as she wanted to hide from him, she turned to face him, having moved a couple of steps ahead of him.

  “But how?”

  “I sneaked out of my parents' house the night you left and paid for passage on your train.” She looked away. Why was this so hard to share with him?

  “Elizabeth, you shouldn't have done that.” John’s eyes were dark.

  She was uncomfortable with this side of him. Always had been. It was obvious he wasn't pleased with her.

  “I had to sneak around and hide because I knew that's how you would feel. That's how my parents would feel. And maybe you're right.” She let out a ragged breath.

  “But why would you do such a thing?” His voice demanded an answer. Something she was all too ready to supply. It was time she was able to speak her peace.

  “How can you ask me that? I did it because I love you! I couldn't stand being away from you, not knowing what might happen to you.”

  John stared at her, perhaps moved by her words, but still unconvinced.

  “I knew the risk I took. Even the chance that you wouldn't understand. But I did what I had to. Can't you try to understand?”

  He remained quiet for several seconds. She let him digest her words. When he finally spoke, it was to ask another question.

  “How is it that you were captured?” He stepped toward her, closing the gap between them. His voice was softer, but she knew he had to know all of it.

  She wanted to look away, to not see his reaction as she spoke, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from his. “It was the day of that first battle. When I found that you had gone to the front lines, I went looking for you. And I attempted to rescue a wounded soldier. I was mistaken for a soldier and shot and captured. Apparently I hit my head and lost my memory. For whatever reason, they had mercy on me.” She didn't know why she didn’t tell him that it was Matthew she had saved on the battlefield.

  He nodded. His features still set and dark.