Off To War (War Between The States)

by Sara R. Turnquist

  It was only a matter of minutes before they jogged into camp. The men dispersed upon setting foot in camp, each off to find his friends or loved ones to show himself unharmed. Daniel had no idea where to find Melanie. First, he walked to her tent. Empty. Next, he wandered over to the hospital, peeking in. He saw Jacob's cot from where he stood, but Melanie was not there with him. Making his way over to the women's area, he checked the laundry and cooking stations.

  As he turned to move on, a loud shriek let out behind him.

  He spun toward the sound.

  There she was. Her eyes wide, her hands covering her mouth, a basketful of clothes dropped at her feet.

  “It's you,” she cried, rushing to him, throwing herself into his arms, and knocking him over with the force of her body hitting his.

  He had the forethought to wrap his arms around her as they toppled, taking the brunt of the fall. It knocked the wind out of him. But he didn’t care.

  “Yes, it's me,” he said, gasping for air. He tried to maneuver their bodies so they were at least on their sides.

  But Melanie wasn't budging. Instead she pressed her lips to his, uncaring that they lay on the ground.

  He accepted her kiss, returning her passion with his own.

  Once they broke apart, his hands were on both sides of her face and he stroked her hair.

  “Dearest Melanie, I have so longed to hold you, to kiss you, these long days that I have been away. But I have to request we do this from a different position, my love.”

  She looked down at him for a moment. Only then seeming to realize that he struggled to breathe. “Of course.” Rising to her feet, she reached down to help him up.

  Once he was on his feet, he gathered her in his arms again. “Tell me you missed me one ounce as much as I missed you,” he said, playing with the fabric of her sleeve.

  “Tell you? Can you not see it in my eyes?”

  He looked into her green orbs and saw the emotion there and the unshed tears that were threatening to spill. “I can,” he said softly. He kissed the tip of her nose.

  They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes.

  “I hope those clothes weren't important.” Daniel smiled.

  Melanie glanced at the pile of clothes, now spilled out onto the ground. “Oh, no!” she kneeled beside them. “These were clean.”

  Daniel crouched next to her and picked up a shirt. “They only landed on the grass. I think they're fine.”

  Melanie snatched it out of his hands and examined the shirt. “I suppose so. I just can't believe I would be so thoughtless.”

  “Hey,” Daniel reached out and touched the side of her face. “Don't be so hard on yourself. Besides,” he joked. “I'm a pretty big deal.”

  She paused collecting the clothes to give him a smirk.

  “Let me help you there.” He reached to pick up some of the clothes.

  Once they had collected them, Melanie stood with the basket, facing him. “Thank you. Even though I am so glad to see you, I'm on laundry duty today and I need to get back to my post and finish.”

  Daniel nodded, disappointed. “Meet you later for dinner? I'll save you a seat.”

  “You'd better,” Melanie said, taking a few steps backwards in the direction of the laundry bin before turning around.

  Daniel watched her go. And he knew his heart was hopelessly lost to her.

  * * *

  When John took a turn for the better, it seemed as if all the darkness had passed. He continued to improve until his prognosis became a full recovery. No one was happier than Elizabeth as no one had spent more time praying or nursing him than she. Eventually, the doctors recommended John take short walks around the camp for fresh air and exercise. Elizabeth volunteered to ensure he didn't overdo it.

  Walking arm in arm, they would make their way down to the stream each day. These days, John said he felt a need to be near the stream, a need that Elizabeth understood. As it turned out, if they had followed the stream, it would've brought them to the camp. While they walked, Elizabeth thought about their journey and how the stream sustained them and guided them, but neither said a word about it. There were plenty of other topics to cover.

  Elizabeth shared the silly camp gossip, not that either of them cared two snits about it. Other topics often covered were John's recovery and Elizabeth's duties around the camp. Then it would be time to walk back to the hospital. But today, John stopped Elizabeth when she made a move to stand.

  “Can we sit for a little while longer?” He continued to gaze at the movement of the water.

  “Sure.” She readjusted her skirt to sit on the ground again.

  “I was thinking. The wagon is prepared to take the amputees to catch the train to Boston. I'm doing well enough that I think you should join them.”

  “What are you saying, John?” Her eyes widened. What was he thinking?

  “I'm saying that I think it's time for you to go home,” he said, turning to face her. “To relieve yourself of all this hardship and danger. I would go, but I have to fulfill my tour of duty.”

  “Then I'm not going anywhere. I stay with you.” As if to emphasize her point, she hooked both of her arms through his. He had the ability, if he so chose, to go to the colonel and have her shipped back to Boston with or without her consent.

  “Now you're just being stubborn,” he grumbled.

  “John Taylor, how dare you?” She loosened her grip on his arm and shifted until she created some distance between them. “And after all I've been through.”

  He propped his arms up on his knees, glancing over and catching her eyes. “I'm sorry you feel that way, Lizzie, but that's how I feel. You are not some farmer's wife, you belong in Boston with your parents.” His voice was raised. He never raised his voice at her.

  “What does it matter what my station in life is?” Her response was sharp.

  “Women of your station do not get involved in war this way.”

  “I'm not just a city girl wearing a pair of soldier's boots.” Her eyes narrowed. “I'm doing what I can to contribute here. Just like you, I'm making a difference for these men.”

  His voice softened. “Lizzie, think of your parents. They are worried sick about you!”

  She deflated somewhat. “I know. I feel terrible for what I've put them through.”

  “And what about me? I have a duty to protect you. What kind of man would I be to allow you to remain in harm's way?”

  That lit a fire in her. “The kind that has come to understand that we face these obstacles together. Did our trials getting to this point teach you nothing?”

  He was silent for a moment.

  She had him.

  As he pinched the bridge of his nose, she wondered if he felt a headache coming on.

  “Lizzie, please understand that I am trying to do what's best for you.”

  Her voice calmed. “I know you are. And I need you to understand that what's best for me is to be with you. It's always been us. I don't know what it is to not be us.”

  He met her eyes again, gazing deeply into them. Could he see into her very soul?

  After some moments of silence, he spoke, “Then, Lizzie, let's be us. But not like this. For real.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He leaned toward her, his face inches from hers. “Marry me. That's one of my conditions.”

  She beamed and threw herself into his arms. “Of course I'll marry you, John Taylor!”

  He let out a stifled groan and she realized she pressed on his wounded shoulder.

  “Oh, sorry.” She eased off.

  “My second condition is that you promise me you will never run out on a battlefield again.”

  “But what if you…”

  “Never. I cannot do my job if I am always worried after you.”

  She met his gaze and then, reluctantly, nodded.

  “And my third condition…” His eyes lit up as he gazed at her. He took her hand in his.

  “What?” She leaned into him.


  “Love me.” He bent his head toward hers, his lips so close. “Always and forever.”

  “Always and forever.” She closed the distance between them.

  * * *

  Jacob had been traveling for days. First, in the rather uncomfortable wagon. His joints still ached from the jostling his body had been through. Next, he was transported on the train. That had afforded him a much smoother ride, but it had been just as crowded as the small wagon. Unfortunately, on the train, he was no longer only with his comrades, his fellow amputees. Other passengers from the general public surrounded him as well. And these passengers stared.

  They tried to pretend that they didn't, but Jacob sensed their eyes on him. Every single second. A few men were bold enough to thank him for his service and congratulate him on a job well done. I obviously didn't do a good enough job, he would think to himself. I lost my leg. But he responded to these well-meaning comments with a polite smile and a 'thank you.'

  One thing was for certain, he'd had enough of the general population long before he saw the familiar sights of Boston. Was this a taste of what was to come? Would he always be a freak in the eyes of some and forever marked as simply a soldier in the eyes of others?

  After what happened with Melanie, Jacob had been all too eager to return home. But now he would give anything to be back at camp. He wished he could replay his farewell with Melanie and Daniel. Maybe it would go differently. It had been so tense.

  He only added to the tension as he held on to his hurt and wounded pride. Those were two people he always imagined he would stay in touch with. However, after that farewell, there was no certainty as to where they stood. Why couldn't he have let go of his anger and hurt? Treated them like the friends they were? How he wished for a second chance!

  In his musings, he almost missed the announcement that they approached Boston. He looked out the window and began to pick out familiar sights. Blinking back tears at the realization that he was home, he tried to gather his wits. Minutes later they pulled into the station.

  Jacob waited for the other passengers around him to get up, collect their things, and move on before he could get up. He needed the extra space to stand, however awkwardly, with his crutch. Grabbing his pack, he slung it over his shoulder, careful to balance it. Then he moved to exit the train. Having done some walking around the camp with the crutch, he had gained some confidence. But it was still a new skill. So things like getting down off a raised train took time and concentration lest he lose his balance and fall, making a real spectacle of himself.

  Not long after his foot hit the platform, he heard a familiar voice.

  “Jacob!”

  Glancing in the direction of the voice, he saw his family and friends standing several feet away. Some of them held American flags. He raised his hand to wave at them, suddenly embarrassed about his leg.

  Jacob's parents and sister moved toward him. His little sister reached him first. She threw her arms around his midsection. His parents were seconds behind her and embraced him as best they could with Susan in the way.

  “Jacob, you're home,” his father said.

  His mother tried to speak, but it came out as little whimpers.

  Even in the embrace, Jacob felt that she sobbed.

  Susan pulled away to look at Mother. “Mommy, don't be sad. Jacob's home.”

  Father looked down at Jacob’s sister. “Oh, Susan, Mommy isn't sad. Those are happy tears.”

  As his father gazed at Susan, Jacob saw tears escaping his eyes. Jacob was moved as well. At last, he was surrounded by people that saw him as Jacob first above anything else, apart from his injury or his status as a soldier.

  So he pressed a kiss to his mother's face, his sister's hair, and even to the side of his father's face. Then he waved his friends to come closer.

  There, among the faces, was a pair of bright blue eyes. Clara? Had she truly cared to be at his homecoming? Their eyes met and her lips curved into a timid smile. He returned it. And his heart skipped a beat.

  “I'm home.” He sighed. “I'm finally home.”

  * * *

  Somewhere else, farther west, Matthew stepped off another train and into a new life. Had he truly left the other behind? A lost love, a narrow escape, and now a man on the run. What did life hold for him? He gazed at the mountains in the distance, and the ache in his heart seemed to lessen if only slightly. Perhaps this could be home.

  People milled about him, passing him by. Then he got a firm bump from behind. Turning, he was prepared to fend off any manner of attack, but found himself looking down into a pair of hazel eyes.

  “Pardon me, sir,” the woman said, straightening her posture. “But should you be standing on the platform when everyone is trying to get off the train?”

  “I believe, ma’am,” he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “That you should watch where you are going.”

  Her eyes widened as she glared at him. “Well, I never!”

  Gathering her bag closer to herself, she raised her nose in the air, and moved off toward the building labeled “Boarding House.”

  And he watched her go, noting the swish of her skirts and the way her brown curls bounced as she walked. The corner of his mouth tugged upward. Yes, he could grow to like it here.

  * * *

  Elizabeth tried to sit still while at least three women pulled at her in different places. But it didn't bother her. This was her wedding day! The women all wanted her to be perfect for John, so she gave them a lot of leeway. They had been so generous to her in preparation for this day.

  She had always dreamed of getting married in John's favorite color, blue, but had decided that, if at all possible, she wanted to wear a purple dress in remembrance of all of the fallen soldiers. All the women went into their bags and there was, indeed, one woman who had a purple dress. The best seamstress in the camp volunteered to take some of the lace off Elizabeth's nightshift and adorn the dress as she made the necessary alterations so it would fit Elizabeth. Even now, the women pulled up her hair and brought forth what selection of jewelry existed in the camp.

  “These are my grandmother's pearls. Would you let them be your something old?” one of the women said.

  Elizabeth smiled and nodded, leaning her head forward so that the older woman could fasten them behind her neck.

  “And I have your something borrowed,” another woman said as she handed her a handkerchief.

  “Where am I going to find something new in this camp?” Elizabeth eyed the women around her.

  Melanie walked up, hand behind her back. “No worries. I've got just the thing.” She pulled out a beautiful bouquet of wildflowers. “Freshly picked. And there are bluebells in there. So they can be your something blue, too.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at her friend. “Am I ready?” she asked the congregation of women as she stood.

  There were more than a few tears as the women en masse nodded their heads.

  Elizabeth looked at Melanie. “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  “See you all at the ceremony,” Elizabeth called back to the women as they moved on in the opposite direction.

  Elizabeth and Melanie walked toward the hospital to find Dr. Smith. Because Elizabeth's father wasn't there to give her away, they'd asked Dr. Smith if he would do the honors. It took them several minutes to reach the hospital tent from the women's area. As they neared, they spotted Dr. Smith standing near the entrance.

  “My stars,” he said as Elizabeth round the corner. “You look like an angel.”

  Her face warmed and she smiled at him.

  He offered her his arm and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. They then headed toward the open field designated as the site for the wedding.

  Elizabeth and John had wanted to exchange vows at the spot by the stream where he had proposed, but everyone in camp wanted to attend the wedding and it was decided that a forested area just wasn't conducive to a crowd. So they were to be wed in the adja
cent field.

  The short walk from the hospital seemed to take forever. How long had it been since she had laid eyes on her beloved? But soon enough, the tents gave way to the open field and she saw the gathering crowd.

  They milled about, waiting for her. The mass of bodies prevented her from seeing John until they parted, creating an aisle for her. Only then could she see him, standing so proud in his uniform. Her heart pounded when she caught sight of her husband-to-be. John seemed as cool and collected as ever. How did he do that? John's head was turned down toward the ground. But soon enough his eyes came up to meet hers.

  She would give anything to be able to capture the expression on his face when first he saw her that day. But no sketchbook would do it justice. So she would just have to lock it away in her heart.

  Melanie, her maid of honor, went down the makeshift aisle first. Then it was time. And she froze.

  Dr. Smith stepped forward, but she couldn't make her feet obey. He put a hand on her arm as if to get her attention. Still, she could not make herself budge. Looking at the crowd, she thought about how all these people would be so disappointed. Then she caught sight of John and felt her body relax.

  Exchanging a look with Dr. Smith, she smiled and nodded, and stepped forward. As they made their way down the aisle, drawing ever closer to John, she saw that he was indeed a mess of emotion, not nearly as collected as she had first assumed.

  When Dr. Smith handed her off to John, she felt his need to be near her.

  “You are breathtaking today,” he whispered.

  “For you,” she whispered back.

  He squeezed her hand.

  They turned their attention to the chaplain.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses, to join John Taylor and Elizabeth Thompson in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying to us the mystical union which is between Christ and His Church. It is therefore not to be entered into lightly or inadvisably, but reverently, discreetly, and in the fear of God.

  “I charge you both as you stand in the presence of God, to remember that true love and loyalty alone will avail as the foundation of a happy home. No other human ties are more tender, no vows more sacred, than those you are about to assume. You are entering into the holy estate which is the deepest mystery of experience, and which is the very sacrament of divine love.