Without smiling, she said. “You take care of your leg and I’ll keep an eye out for soldiers with nightmares and continual sadness.”
“You do that. Thanks again for patching me up.”
Abbey moved to another patient and thought, “So many with disturbed emotions which make it difficult or impossible for them to accomplish even simple tasks. When do we start to heal them?”
* * *
A month later and just as daylight was filling their latest encampment, Abbey heard a single gunshot then shouting for a doctor. She ran to a group of soldiers who’d surrounded a stricken man. “Make room. I’m Dr. Kaplan.”
The crowd parted, the doctor kneeled and examined the man. A bullet had gone through his head from right to left. A still smoking pistol lay at his side. Abbey tilted his head. The entrance wound was surrounded by powder burns.
Lieutenant Scharf approached.
“He shot himself, sir,” one of the men said.
Her helper turned to those assembled. “Any idea what or why?”
“Cold as hell six nights ago, sir,” one of the soldiers said. “He and a buddy slept in each other’s arms to stay warm. During the night, someone slit his buddy’s throat. He woke up hanging on to a dead man. Scared the hell out of him. He joked about it at the time but I think the incident bothered him more than he let on. His squad mates said he quit talking and couldn’t sleep.”
Abbey was deeply saddened and slowly shook her head.
“Don’t feel too bad, Dr. Kaplan,” a corporal said. “From what I hear, there’s no medicine to fix the ones who go crazy.”
“Crazy?” Lt. Scharf asked.
“What else do you call it?” another man asked.
A third added, “Some who’ve been in lots of battles get this kind of facial expression where they just stare into the distance all the time.” He turned to Abbey. “What would you call such a condition, Doc?”
“Possibly some type of tiredness,” she speculated and stood up.
“Hell, we’re all tired,” the corporal said. The other men laughed.
Dr. Fellows approached the group. “What’s going on here?”
“This man shot himself,” Abbey said.
“Why are you all standing around? Why is the body still here?”
She stated, “I’m investigating his death.”
The chief surgeon’s jaw dropped. “What? Why the hell would you investigate a man who’s dead”
“I’ll make notes on the circumstances of his demise. With enough information, perhaps we can head off these incidents,” Abbey said.
“He shot himself. What else if there to know? Weak men don’t have the constitution for war.”
“Begging the major’s pardon sir,” one of the enlisted men volunteered, “but the sergeant’s been with us since first Bull Run. A good man and great leader. Likely one of our toughest. If it happened to him, it could happen to any of us.”
Dr. Fellows snorted and said, “Then why did he give up and shoot himself?”
Abbey said, “We don’t know why which is what I’m trying to learn.”
Dr. Fellows face turned red. “There is nothing to learn and these men have work to accomplish which is where they need to be.” He snorted in Abbey’s direction. “Not helping our lady doctor, who won’t be here much longer, investigate any damn thing. Lt. Scharf, have a team collect this body and you men get to your posts.”
Lt. Scharf replied, “Yes, sir.”
The men dispersed but the enlisted man who’d stepped forward, mouthed to Abbey, “Thanks, Doctor.”
* * *
Abbey and Lt. Scharf sat across from each other eating dinner.
She asked. “Where did you grow up?”
“Boston. I hope to complete an engineering degree when I return.”
“Congratulations on becoming a lieutenant. You were a hero out there.”
“A hero? Not me. Just doing my best to keep us alive.” He laughed. “When I signed up I thought, for a few months, it would be fun to be in the band.” He nodded at a group of soldiers. “I get tired of hearing their disgusting remarks about the few women we have out here.”
“Me?”
Lt. Scharf nodded. “And anything else in a skirt.”
“So then instead of band, you turned your drummer hands into medical ones.”
He held up his hands and examined them. “With your help. I never expected to become an assistant surgeon’s assistant.”
Abbey smiled. “You handle it well.”
“Outwardly yes.”
“Bloody sights don’t seem to upset you.”
“Because I save my nausea until we’re done. As you say, I manage the disgusting sights adequately. If I spend much time taking stock of how many men are crippled for life, I get teary.”
“Miss your family?”
“Certainly. Makes me feel lonely as hell at times.”
“Sad and lonely…and yet you are one of the team’s most diligent workers.”
“As a band member I didn’t feel useful. But being part of the medical team, I feel like I’m contributing. The men we treat are in desperate need of care. I honestly believe the best way I can help these brave men is by working with you.” A warm smile formed on his lips. “You, Doctor Kaplan, like the other doctors, are a hero.”
Abbey folded her arms across her chest. “A hero doesn’t kill patients. I’m just a doctor doing what she was trained to do and trying to acquiring additional skills.” She stared at her lap briefly. “I do wish our chief surgeon appreciated my effort.”
“He does but won’t admit it because you’re a woman. I’ve seen how he watches you.”
“Watches?”
“With pure admiration.” He chuckled. “Or maybe it’s envy. Dr. Fellows may have more experience than you but the Lord has given you marvelous dexterity and you learn so quickly.”
“Thanks.” She rolled her shoulders to try and ease some tension. “So after the war, why an engineer?”
“Like my father but hope to design buildings and bridges.” He gazed at their surroundings. “One day, I will forget this ugliness and lead a normal life.”
“You won’t remember what’s happened here?”
“I hope not.” He shrugged again. “Find me after the war and I’ll tell you.”
Abbey giggled.
“One thing I’d like to ask, Doctor. Lt. Smith and I were talking. We think the team should be learning each other’s jobs. One of us gets hurt and anyone else could cover.”
“I agree.” Abbey sipped her coffee then asked. “I wonder why Lt. Smith didn’t ask me?”
“Most of the guys are intimidated by you.”
Shocked and wide-eyed, she sat up straight. “By me?”
“When they make a mistake, you get upset, give them your demeaning facial expression then use your first-class vocabulary to make them feel like idiots.”
“If they do something stupid…”
“I agree they’ve got it coming; but sometimes they just make a mistake.”
“You said, they…are intimidated. Not you?”
“No, Ma’am.” He gazed in her eyes. “Besides being an accomplished doctor and surgeon, I see the gentle, caring woman inside the tough exterior.”
Abbey stared at her lap. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
He continued, “I understand your brusque behavior is needed to earn a place of respect in a male-dominated world.”
Abbey stared at him briefly. “Amazing. You…do understand.” She stopped conversing to watch a robin trying to pull a worm out of the grass. “Then let me ask you…don’t you think your use of profanity with the men is demeaning?”
“When I give an order, it must be followed or people die.”
“If they question the order?”
“No questions allowed. Just compliance. Profanity allows me to speak the enlisted men’s language.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes.
He took a deep breath and said, “Sad
about the suicide this morning,”
“Tragic. Some men’s minds seem to collapse.” The lieutenant stared at her for some time.
“What?” she asked.
“Insightful, Doctor Kaplan. Although, I’d say it’s a matter of how much they can endure. Kind of like boxing. Each horror experienced is like a blow to the mind. Some guys can’t endure as much as others.”
Abbey stared at her lap and mumbled, “Blow to the mind…endure as much…” She sipped her coffee then turned to Lt. Scharf. “We know so little about a person’s emotional balance.”
“Would you agree the mind can endure only so much?”
“I’m just speculating but from what I’ve seen here…I’d agree with you but different men have different endurance.” She became pensive for a bit. “Possibly because the blows to their mind are bigger or smaller or occur more often? Again, just speculation.”
“How do we get beyond speculation?”
Abbey thought for a bit. “We may need doctors to specialize in areas to concentrate their energy in solving medical conditions like problematic mental conditions…using scientific methodology, of course.”
“So no more doctors as generalists?”
“Generalists will be needed but specialists, I believe, will also be needed.”
“So, getting back to emotional balance, what treatment is available?”
“No clue. No clue whatsoever.” She sighed. “Not even for my own painful demons.”
“Demons? Would you like to talk about them?”
Abbey was deciding how much to tell him when the sound of cannon fire rumbled across their encampment.
The lieutenant jumped up. “I’d better make sure things are prepped for surgery.”
“Lt. Scharf, I appreciate your taking time to talk to me.”
“My pleasure, Doctor.”
She watched him walk a few steps then called to him. “I have medical books you could read during the slow time between casualties.”
He stopped walking, turned slightly back toward Abbey and said over his shoulder, “I’m no doctor.”
“The more you learn, the more help you’ll be…not just to me but the wounded as well.”
He scratched his head while considering her request, then smiled. “I’ll pick them up, Doctor Kaplan.”
The lieutenant walked ten paces, glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her.
“I can have a word with him,” a soldier wearing captain’s bars said.
“Concerning?”
“Enlisted men are not to fraternize with women of officer’s rank.”
“He’s been promoted to lieutenant but hasn’t received his insignia yet.”
“I apologize then.” He removed his hat. “My name is Francis Ascari.”
“I remember. I’m Dr. Abbey Kaplan.” She offered her hand then motioned him to be seated.
“A pleasure to meet the doctor who’s skilled hands repair so many of our men.”
“It’s an honor to serve.” She eyed him for a bit. “You found the rabbi for me.”
“I did. Should be a beautiful sunset this evening. Perhaps you’d accompany me on a walk after evening meal?”
“Thank you, Captain Ascari, but I have numerous medical write-ups to complete.”
“Perhaps another time?”
Abbey smiled at him. “I’ll look forward to that.”
* * *
Dear Mom,
I hope this letter finds all of you at home in the state of Washington, healthy and happy as possible.
I received your letter. So great to hear from you. As you suggested, I’m doing my best to stay healthy and ignore my detractors.
I’m learning medicine and surgery at a furious rate; just as our community doctor predicted. Although I’m an assistant surgeon, the regiment’s chief surgeon has a constant romance with liquor which forced me into the role of lead surgeon. Due to my lack of experience, I was frightened nearly to death. One of our team members watches out for me and helped me get past my fright and adjust to my leadership position.
I receive regular correspondence from the Medical Museum in Washington which detail new medical and surgical techniques. I struggle to memorize and implement them.
The chief surgeon, a crusty old codger, hates having a woman as a surgical assistant. I perform my work as best I can, despite his withering criticism and unwillingness to accept me as a doctor or surgeon. Holding the equivalent of lieutenant’s rank gets me some grudging respect from those around me.
You’d be astounded at my dress. I wear britches and soldier’s boots all the time plus carry a pistol on my hip. Yes, Mom, we are close to the fighting, so the pistol is necessary.
I ended up fighting along-side infantry soldiers some days ago. It gave me insight into what they must endure during each battle. The fighting was an emotional and physical horror. Those brave men, on both sides, look death in the face and still do their duty to the best of their ability.
I’d prefer no one else knows I was in combat or what I’m going through with the chief surgeon. I’ll tell the others when I come home. I need to tell someone; so you’re the lucky (?) one. Would love to have a female friend to talk to but that’s unlikely out here. My surgical staff treats me adequately and as I previously wrote, one of the team members has been a rock of support for me. He’s a good man from the Boston area.
Remember my brothers and Andre the trapper teaching me shooting? I put all their training to use during the battle and likely saved a few lives as a result.
Please keep my letters to yourself and please save them. If nothing else, after the war, they will provide me with a reminder of what I’m going through. For now, I’d prefer others don’t know. When I’m home, I’ll tell them. If I don’t make it home, they can read the letters.
I miss my family. I’d give anything to make a pot of tea and sit on the porch with you to discuss what goes on here. I can’t wait to get home.
Love,
Abbey
“Dr. Kaplan,” a voice called from outside her tent. “It’s Cpt. Ascari. Do you have time for a walk?”
* * *
On their seventh such excursion in as many weeks, he asked, “How are things in the medical section?”
“I’ve come to the conclusion, we have an odd existence.”
“In what way?”
“We live in a peaceful location.” Abbey gazed at the surrounding hills and indicated them with a wave of her hand. Tall trees swayed in the evening’s moderate breeze. “Pretty enough here I’d enjoy bringing my family to see these beautiful hills once the war ends.” She took a deep breath and continued, “Then without warning, we are exposed to and must work on the most ghastly sights, sounds and smells of combat. We must concentrate on men who are never going to have a normal life. They will go home with permanent disabilities…”
He interrupted. “Best not to think about it.”
Abbey walked in silence for a while. “I try to bury as much as possible but at night, when there’s nothing else to think about, I get anxious and depressed.”
He smiled. “I didn’t bring you out here to become upset.” Abbey put a hand on his arm.
“You’re right. I apologize.” They walked in silence, admiring the orange western sky, whose few clouds displayed fanciful shapes. “One thing Captain. I’m Jewish. We won’t ever be more than acquaintances.”
“You’re a fine conversationalist. I’ll be proud to be one of your acquaintances.”
They exchanged smiles and continued walking.
Abbey was admiring the shapely red clouds in the western sky when a shot rang out. They both hit the ground.
Dr. Connolly
Abbey scanned in the direction the shot came from. From behind her, a second shot rang out. Abbey saw a gray-coated soldier pinwheel out of a tree forty-yards to her front. She turned to Captain Ascari. “Captain…”
Three Union soldiers ran up. One said, “You okay Ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you.
” She turned over the unmoving Captain. “Damn. Shot through the throat.”
“Fuckin’ Rebel snipers,” one of the men said then quickly added, “Pardon my language, Ma’am. We’ll escort you back to camp. A doctor from the recovery hospital wishes to speak with you.”
* * *
“I’m Dr. Connolly. I’m in charge of the recovery hospital. A number of patients are experiencing problems which indicate they’ve been given chloroform for too long or the anesthesia is being administered in a way which doesn’t let in enough air.” He stared at Abbey. “I think I should be talking to the surgeon who’s actually operating on the men.”
“I’m the one performing surgical interventions at the moment.”
“But you’re a…”
Exasperated, she interrupted, “Yes. I’m female and I have breasts which you don’t need to stare at.”
He looked to the side. “Sorry, Ma’am. Actually, I need to talk to Dr. Fellows.”
“I’m Doctor Kaplan. Now that you’re finished examining my body, we need to discuss the problem.”
Red-faced and staring at his feet, the doctor continued, “Perhaps I should be talking to Dr. Fellows.”
Exasperated, Abbey said, “Perhaps you should.” She looked about. “Pvt. Silver. Take this man to the chief surgeon.”
Fifteen-minutes later the Captain returned. Obviously embarrassed, he addressed Abbey, “Dr. Fellows was…well…incoherent.”
“As I said previously, you and I need to discuss the chloroform problem.”
“When do you quit giving anesthesia?”
“Once the most painful part of an operation is complete. For instance, during an amputation, we stop after I complete work with the bone saw.”
“Do you have confidence in the man administering the drug?”
“He has over two-years’ experience. Joined the unit just before Bull Run. When did the problem begin occurring?”
“Roughly three months ago. Possibly longer but we may not have noticed.”
The Surgeon: A Civil War Story Page 8
