The Surgeon: A Civil War Story

by Schwartz, Richard Alan

  “I’ll bet they could do it if their children’s lives were at stake.”

  “Maybe…but they’d show some emotion, some feeling.”

  Abbey peered skyward and threw her hands in the air as if asking for divine assistance. “Corporal Lawrence, we don’t all show emotion the same way.”

  He responded with a glance which Abbey thought would have been appropriate if she were an alien lifeform. “Anything else, Corporal?”

  “No, Doctor.”

  Abbey walked to the officer’s mess area.

  “Tough day, Dr. Kaplan?” Captain Williams, an infantry officer, asked.

  “More like a typical day…except for the last patient who sustained facial injuries which a number of my team experienced difficulty observing.”

  “Two men from my company received severe burns.”

  “I saw them. There was nothing we could do for them. In my experience, people with burns like those live for a while but their lungs seem to quit functioning within a few hours and they die of suffocation.”

  “Then neither made it?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking…”

  Abbey’s pulse began pounding in her temples. She spoke through gritted teeth. “I do mind and I’m tired of people asking how I endure the horrors.” She saw the other officers turning toward her.

  “I didn’t mean to offend…”

  Her exasperated voice interrupted him. “You’re in combat. You kill people. How do you manage?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  Abbey put clenched fists on her hips. “Because you’re a man?”

  “Well…” He spooned more food into his mucket.

  “In your first battle, I’ll bet you grieved over the men you killed but now it has little effect on you.”

  The captain stiffened and turned to face her. “I still grieve for the dead…on both sides.”

  “I can’t afford the luxury of grieving or I fear I’d do little else.”

  She filled her mucket and sat at a table. Captain Williams took his and left the area. Not one of the other officers sat near her or acknowledged her presence.

  * * *

  The next patient was placed on the operating table.

  “Abbey, I came to visit you and this is what happened,” her brother William said. He held up bloody, handless stumps. Horrified, Abbey stood back and put a hand up to cover her mouth. She stared at the patient’s injuries and then said,

  “I can’t work on him. He’s my brother. Find Dr. Fellows.”

  “He’s indisposed,” Lt. Smith said.

  Lt. Scharf said, “There’s no one else. You have to operate on him.”

  “I can’t,” she shouted and ran out of the tent. The doctor was horrified to see her father and other brother with bloody injuries waiting for her surgical intervention. She heard Lt. Scharf and her brother William pleading for her to begin surgery.

  Lt. Scharf grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her while yelling, “Dr. Kaplan. Dr. Kaplan.”

  * * *

  “Dr. Kaplan, are you all right?” she heard Lt. Scharf yelling.

  Abby sat up with a start and rapidly gazed around her dimly illuminated tent. He stood at her side.

  “Dr. Kaplan,” he said again. “Do you need help?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Her heart beat wildly and she was short of breath.

  “I apologize for entering your tent but you were shouting something about William.”

  “Thank you, Lt.” Abbey whipped her head side-to-side trying to dislodge the memory of the nightmare. “Just a bad dream. You can go now.”

  The doctor checked her watch. “Seven-thirty in the morning. I’m late for camp disease duty.”

  Abbey rolled out of her cot and splashed cold water on her face. “My God, I could see and hear them so clearly.” The doctor leaned over her wash basin, trying to remain calm while waiting for her breathing and heart rate to regain a normal pace. She shuddered. “I pray that awful dream doesn’t happen again.”

  * * *

  “How was he injured?” Abbey asked late in the afternoon while a child was placed on the operating table.

  Cpl. Lawrence said, “We think he and a friend were playing with unexploded ordinance and something detonated. The other child died. This little guy’s mother said he’s four.”

  She shook her head, “His tibia is shredded. We’ll remove his leg above the injury.”

  Abbey turned to Cpl. Lawrence as he administered the chloroform. “Ready?”

  “Shortly,” he said.

  “Bless you, Doctor,” the woman said after the operation was complete. “A word, please.” She pulled the doctor away from the others. “Might a lost my son if you wasn’t here. I don’t have much to pay you.”

  “No need for payment,” Abbey said.

  The woman pulled a jar and a small piece of paper out of her skirt pocket and folded Abbey’s hand around them. “Keep this to yourself doc because it ain’t legal. If you find yourself in pain because you need to have a man, put some of this down there and you won’t get with child.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a petroleum jelly mix. I’ve written down the recipe.”

  “Thank you, but…I don’t…have a use for it…”

  * * *

  Abbey had just completed triage when an officer and an older woman approached her.

  “Dr. Kaplan, I’m Doctor Hammond and this is Nurse Anderson who works for the Sanitary Commission. We’re visiting from Washington and wish to discuss some ideas with you.”

  “Love to talk to you but I must begin surgery.” She pointed to the wounded laid out on cots and the ambulance train of two-wheeled mule-drawn carts.

  Dr. Hammond continued, “We understand. May we observe?”

  “Follow me,” Abbey said.

  As they entered the surgical tent, Dr. Kaplan asked, “We’re a bit short handed today. Dr. Hammond, do you have surgical experience?”

  Appearing somewhat shocked, he said, “Quite a bit, in fact.”

  Abbey turned to the woman. “You?”

  “I’ve experience as a surgical nurse.”

  “Excellent. From the sound of the battle, I expect many casualties today. I could use help.” The newcomers nodded.

  “This way please.”

  “Lt. Smith, please setup a second surgical table for Dr. Hammond and split our team. Lt. Scharf, please assist him. Nurse Anderson, I’d appreciate you assisting me.”

  Numerous hours later, the last soldier’s surgical intervention was completed.

  “A pleasure working with your team, Chief Surgeon Kaplan,” Dr. Hammond said, shaking her hand.

  “I’m…” Abbey smiled, “Your assistance was a Godsend. Thank you for instructing me and my assistant in new techniques.”

  “My pleasure. I believe many of our questions were answered as we observed you and your team. Your surgical skill is impressive, Dr. Kaplan.”

  “I’m still learning.”

  “New techniques are being discovered all the time. Surgery is a field which requires constant learning.”

  Nurse Anderson concurred then said, “Dr. Kaplan, I noticed your team is cross-trained.”

  Abbey said, “Lt. Smith and Lt. Scharf, came up with the idea and we implemented it.”

  “We would like to incorporate women into the nursing corps,” Nurse Anderson said. “This would free more men for combat. Some are insisting men are better at nursing. Your thoughts?”

  “Let me understand; you’re asking if I believe we have better medical care because the individuals performing the nursing duties have a penis? I think not.”

  Dr. Hammond and Nurse Anderson glanced at each other, then burst into laughter.

  In the background, Abbey could see her team laughing as well.

  “We came here to see how your regiment’s medical work was progressing. I didn’t imagine I’d have first-hand experience,” Dr. Hammond said.

&n
bsp; “The literature and circulars coming from Washington provide us knowledge and direction,” Abbey said. “They are much appreciated.”

  “Is there something we can procure for you to advance your medical knowledge?” Dr. Hammond asked.

  Abbey thought for a bit. “I could use a microscope and someone to train me in its use.”

  “You’ll have both within the week.”

  They all shook hands and parted company.

  “Let’s get something to eat,” Lt. Scharf said to Abbey. They sat opposite each other.

  Lt. Smith sat down with them. He wore a cat-ate-the- canary grin.

  “What?” Abbey asked him.

  “Dr. Hammond. You don’t know who he is?”

  Abbey eyes widened as she gasped then briefly put her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Was he THE Dr. Hammond?”

  The lieutenant nodded.

  “Who?” Lt. Scharf asked.

  “General William Hammond, Surgeon General of the United States,” Abbey said. “I knew his name sounded familiar but I was so worried about today’s surgeries I didn’t realize…”

  Lt. Scharf laughed and said, “I’m glad I didn’t know or I’d have been a nervous wreck.”

  After three-hours of camp medicine and an hour of surgery the following day, Abbey exited the medical tent.

  An officer wearing Calvary insignia approached her. He walked with an odd gait…as if trying to keep his legs spread apart.

  “You the Doc?” he asked. “I’m Dr. Kaplan.”

  “I’m Cpt. Donovan. Calvary. Piles, Doc. Bloody piles.”

  “What?”

  “My ass. I got piles…they’re getting painful and bloody.”

  “Follow me into the medical tent.” The man grimaced with each step. She placed a chair near a sidewall of the tent.

  “Drop your britches and bend over the chair.”

  As he lowered his britches, he muttered, “Kind of embarrassing.”

  Abbey sighed. “Not to worry. If it’s one thing I’ve become accustomed to, it’s working with assholes.”

  He bent over the chair and closed his eyes.

  “Not good,” Abbey said. She inspected the purple colored protrusion. “How long has it caused pain?”

  “A few months.”

  “How much pain?”

  “Substantial when I crap and painful as hell when I’m riding.”

  “It should have resolved itself within the first week.”

  “All the men in my family got piles. You know, dad, grandfather, uncles.”

  “This is the worst case I’ve seen. Stand up and pull up your britches.”

  “I’m worthless to my unit. I can’t ride anymore. They’re about to send me home. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

  “I’ll see what I can learn about cures. Meanwhile, I’ll give you a jar of petroleum jelly and get you a ride to the recovery hospital. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll see you there and we’ll talk about what we can do.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “I can’t guaranty anything.”

  His eyes filled with tears. “Hate to be away from my unit. We been together since the start. Appreciate anything you can do, Doc.”

  She called over a nurse. “Get him a cot for now then schedule transportation to the recovery hospital.”

  “Not trying to embarrass you Doc, but you look exhausted.”

  Tired

  Feeling groggy, Abbey found herself back in her tent with her right hip and thigh wrapped in bandages. She saw Lt. Scharf at her desk reading and making notes. The doctor lifted her head. “Who removed the bullet and…sutured?”

  “Me.”

  Abbey laid back and closed her eyes.

  “Either I perform the work or you’d have bled out.”

  “I know.” She took a few deep breaths. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Roughly ten-hours.”

  “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

  “You in pain?”

  “Not too bad. Pinches a bit when I move.”

  “Dr. Fellows gave me a white liquid if you need it.”

  She grinned briefly then said in a sarcastic voice, “He’s not indisposed?”

  “After we took care of you, Lt. Smith and Pvt. Lawrence poured enough coffee down his gullet to drown an elephant.”

  Abbey giggled.

  “He sobered up when he was clear headed enough to realize you’d be off your feet for a while.” He held up a stoppered bottle. “So, you want the pain killer?”

  “Not now. Uh…I’m not wearing the same clothes.”

  “Your laundry lady and her daughter washed you and put you in clean clothes. You were still feeling the effects of the chloroform so may not remember.”

  “Thank you for all you did. And thank the team for me.” She folded her arm across her eyes. “Did they enjoy seeing me exposed?”

  “Lt. Smith or I would have punched the lights out of anyone who acted disrespectfully. We kept you covered as modestly as we could.” He stared at her for a while. “Dr. Kaplan, after you’ve saved so many soldier’s lives, the team respects you; even the men who don’t think you should be here. It was like caring for a sister.” He read for a bit then added, “By the way, when I inspected the wound in your quadriceps prior to closing it, there was no visible damage to your femur or quadriceps tendon.”

  “Thank you…how did you know to check…”

  He held up a book. “Been working through those medical texts.”

  Abbey smiled briefly, then asked, “Why wasn’t I moved to the recovery hospital?”

  “Dr. Fellows wanted you nearby so he could check on your progress and have one of the team keep an eye on you. Also something about the recovery hospital being overrun by gangrene.”

  “Sorry you’re assigned such boring duty.”

  “I volunteered.”

  “Why?”

  “I always watch out for our assistant surgeon.” He grinned.

  “It’s in my job description.”

  “Just you?”

  “Lt. Smith, Private Silver and Pvt. Lawrence also volunteered. They’ll rotate with me for a few days. They, like me, also volunteered to search for you with an infantry unit.”

  “Thank them for me.” She sighed. “Did you write up my injuries and your surgery?”

  He held up a sheet of paper. “Right here, ready for your review. The washer lady agreed to stop by twice-a-day for a couple weeks to help with any personal stuff you might need.”

  Abbey thought for a while then viewed him with a questioning expression. “How is it you were the one who found me?”

  “We’d split up as it was getting dark. Suddenly, I remembered you heading toward the stream when you needed to relieve yourself.”

  “You were right.” She yawned and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “I’m exhausted. It’s going to take a while to become mobile again.”

  * * *

  “It’s been seven days. I can stand without too much pain.” Abby gently sat up in her cot. Lt. Scharf moved to her side and helped her stand.

  “Is the tent flap secure?” she asked.

  “It is.”

  She gripped his shoulder, then turned toward him and slowly slid her arms around his neck.

  He gently wrapped his arms around her.

  Abbey sighed and whispered, “Thank you, for taking such good care of me,” then kissed his cheek.

  He stared in her eyes, kissed her forehead then kissed her lips.

  A voice called from outside the tent.

  “Pvt. Moss from the mess. I have Dr. Kaplan’s dinner.”

  Lt. Scharf opened the tent flap. The corporal placed a tray on the desk and left.

  Abbey sat at the desk and removed the cloth covering her dinner. “What’s this?”

  Lt. Scharf said, “Gefilte fish, borscht, chicken soup, root vegetables and a challah. You know…dinner appropriate for Shabbat. Enough for two I see.”

  “What in the world? Who cooked this?”r />
  “The mess sergeant. When he learned you’d been injured, he insisted on preparing all your meals himself. The rabbi’s wife gave him a few Jewish recipes.”

  “But why?”

  “We treat soldier after soldier without learning who they are or what they do.”

  “How does that relate…”

  “Remember the successful gut-wound and appendix repair?”

  “Yes…”

  “That was our mess sergeant.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Let’s eat. Rabbi Schulman will be here early tomorrow with Cpl. Silver and some other Jewish soldiers to hold a Shabbat service…if you’re up for it.”

  “Certainly.” She stared at the tray then nodded toward her footlocker. “Please open my trunk. On the left side, you’ll find a candle holder, candles and a bottle of wine.”

  Abbey blessed the candles and he the wine.

  “Almost tastes like home,” he said, as the lieutenant ate a second slice of gefilte fish.

  “By the way,” Abbey asked, “any word on the chloroform problem?”

  * * *

  “Now that you can get around using a cane,” Dr. Fellows said a number of weeks later, “we’re still having problems with chloroform injuries. Six additional patients experience what we believe are chloroform complications. I’ve kept an eye on Pvt. Laurence and even had a surgical nurse from a neighboring regiment come over and watch him. I don’t believe the problem is here.”

  “What about the recovery hospital?”

  “I suggest you head over to examine their end of things. Pvt. Silver will accompany and drive you over there.” The rumble of cannon fire echoed in the distance.

  Dr. Fellows said, “Sounds like we’ll be sending patients there shortly.”

  Abbey and Pvt. Silver arrived at the recovery hospital. Within a few hours, a steady stream of ambulances arrived. Abbey and the Pvt. observed the wounded as they were carried into the ward.