Tear In Time (21 page)

 
“Genius you say, doc? I don't see any genius today,” Pvt. John replied in a slight
mocking tone.

  David
thought for a moment. Suddenly, it dawned on him, “You don't mean...”

  “Oh
yes, doc, I do mean Stonewall Jackson. We're whoopin’ him good today, I tell
yuh,” Pvt. John said, cutting off David in mid-sentence. “He don't look much
like a genius on the run. Looks more like a scared rat, if I dare say so.”

  David
thought to himself for a moment. In his time period, Thomas Jonathan
'Stonewall' Jackson was regarded as great a president as George Washington.
Effigies of his likeness were plastered everywhere, including the money in his
pocket. He had often wondered what it would be like to go back in time and
watch the historic figures in their times of greatness. He knew that he
probably would not be able to observe him in battle, but he could see him
vicariously through the eyes of the men Stonewall was responsible for wounding
and David was responsible for treating.

  As
David thought about the opportunity to witness history, he repeated under his
breath, “President Stonewall Jackson, President Stonewall Jackson,” over and
over as he internalized the significance of the discovery.

  “Sir,
I believe you have his rank incorrect. He ain’t no president; he's a general,”
Pvt. Jimmy offered.

  Startled
by the realization that he was overheard, David quickly covered his knowledge
of the future, “Sorry, boys. I'm kind of new to the army. You are absolutely
correct. He is a general...  and...  you have him on the run.
Amazing, boys, tell me more,” David asked, forgetting for a moment the serious
condition of his patients.

  With
an interested audience, the two young wounded men forget their injuries and
pain for a moment and proudly related the details of their participation in the
battle.

  “Well,
to start, there sure are a whole lot of them Rebs: almost twice as many as us.
Wouldn't you say so, John?” asked Pvt. Jimmy.

  “I'd
say at least that much, Jimmy, but they ain’t as hard as we are. Even with
twice as many as our boys, we still pushed them back across the field. Their
artillery was scattered a bit, missing far behind us. Gen. Banks and Gen.
Negley must have the best damned artillery in the whole of the Union, because
they would fire on the Reb's front line, just ahead of us, pause as we pushed
them back further, then fire on the front lines again as we moved up. Our boys
had great timing and accuracy. I don't believe one of us was affected by any of
that artillery," Pvt. John offered.

 
"Wow, twice as many. That's got to be scary. How far away were they?"
David asked.

 
"Close enough to smell them filthy skunks," Pvt. Jimmy replied.

  As Pvt
Jimmy answered the question, Pvt. John thought about it for a moment. Sensing something
peculiar about the line of questions from the doctor, he became inquisitive.

 
"Sir, pardon my insinuation, but have you been in battle before?"
Pvt. John asked delicately, trying to avoid an act of insubordination.

  David
realized immediately his questions gave away his lack of experience. Feeling a
bit embarrassed, he replied honestly, "Well, private, to be honest, no I
haven't. I arrived at the end of the battle of Chattanooga. Up until that time,
I only read about war in a few books. Now that I'm here, I'm trying to educate
myself in case I'm ever called upon to fight.”

  Pvt.
John winced a bit as he suppressed his pain. Looking up at David, he smiled
slightly and nodded, then turned to Pvt Jimmy and said, “They was close
alright, close enough to feel the wrath of our bayonets. I must have stuck at
least a dozen before they turned tail and ran.”

  In
pain, Pvt. Jimmy nodded and laid his head down to relieve his discomfort, as
Pvt. John continued.

  “For a
while, I found a good location to fire from. It was a hollow in the middle of
the field. I must have charged too hard ’cause I was out in front, about fifty
paces or so before I knew what was happening. Well, those damn Rats took a fix
on me and let the ball fly. I could hear the lead as it whizzed past my head a
few times. I could see the discharge of smoke from the ends of their rifles up
ahead of me and knew I was outnumbered, so I jumped down in that tiny hollow
and began to pick them off one by one. They still had a fix on me ’cause I
could see the eruptions of grass around me as their bullets cut into the
ground,” Pvt John said, humor now gone from his face and replaced by intensity.

  He
looked over at Pvt. Jimmy who was listening intently, then back to David. “So
there I lay, waiting for the rest of the boys to show while I reloaded and
fired my rifle. Looking down my sights, I could see bars on this one Rat. He
being an officer and all, I decided to give him a proper burial. I figger’d his
distance at about two hundred yards away, so I adjusted my sights for windage
and his elevation, and released my hammer," Pvt. John said.

 
"Did you kill this officer?" David asked, a little embarrassed by his
morbid interest.

  "Well,
sir, I had to wait a moment for the smoke to clear, but when it did, there he
was, closer than ever and charging like he had a mess of hornets in his
britches," Pvt. John replied.

 
"What did you do?" David asked, now with even more curiosity.

  "I
reloaded and fired again, but that dammed Rat was luckier than a cat with nine
lives. I placed my sights at the center of his bright red shirt, and once
again, I missed," Pvt. John said with disgust. "As I was reloading,
an artillery round landed between me and them Rats. I held my fire until the
smoke cleared and, sure enough, there he was, that damned red shirted skunk
STILL charging forward. The artillery round killed some of the boys around him
but missed him."

 
"That's incredible. Did anybody stop him?" David asked anxiously.

 
"Funny thing happened just then. As I lined up on him one more time, I
heard the roar of a rifle above my head. Damn near scared the tar out of
me," Pvt. John said as he clutched his heart for a moment. "I rolled
over to fire at the loud noise, purely out of instinct, I assure you, and saw
Patrick Fuller smiling at me, and behind him was the rest of our boys. While I
was fiddling with that Reb, they must have snuck up behind me. Patrick then
said to me 'I figger’d you was needin’ help'."

  Pvt.
John scratched the top of his head in thought and continued, "In any case,
I smiled back at Patrick, then looked to see about that damned Reb. There he
was, face down in the grass: ole Patrick gave him a good whoopin’ all
right."

  Pvt.
John looked solemnly down at his wounded leg. He bit his lower lip as he held
back his emotion. All expression left his face as he looked back into David's
eyes.

 
"John, what's wrong? Are you ok?" David asked, sensing the young
private’s emotional pain.

 
"While I was looking at that dead Reb officer, blood splattered across my
hands like I had the smallpox or something. When I looked over my shoulder,
there on the ground behind me was poor ole Patrick. Those damned Rebs shot a
big ole hole in the side of his head, spattering his blood all over me,"
Pvt. John said, in obvious emotional pain.

  In
shock, David exclaimed, "Oh my god, that's horrible. The poor guy."
He placed his hand on Pvt. John's arm and said with deep sympathy, "John,
I'm sorry."

 
"Thank you, sir, but those damned Rebs was sorrier that old Patrick after
I got done with them," Pvt. John said, now seething with anger and
vengeance. "I stood up and charged them sons-a-bitches with both my rifle
and Patrick's, pardon my profanity."

  As
David nodded, Pvt John continued, "The other boys must have been just as
riled as I was, ’cause they charged them Rebs too. I cut down a few of them
rats when they was only a few feet away from me. We all then used our bayonets
and rifle butts to take care of business, seeing how Johnny Reb was mixing with
us all general now."

 
"Hand to hand combat? Oh my God. You must have been scared out of your
mind," David said, openly showing his own fear.

  Pvt
John shook his head as he replied, "Scared? I was madder than an angry
hornet with two stingers. We gave them a good whooping for what they done to
Patrick: at least, I did. Pretty soon, them Rebs turned and ran like the
cowards they was, only we didn't let them get away."

  "You
kept chasing them?" David asked.

 
"Uh huh. We chased them for a short stretch, then stopped and fired,"
Pvt. John replied proudly.

  For a
moment, there was silence. Suddenly, David realized this was the moment in the
battle that Pvt. John had been wounded, his pride preventing him from ending
the tail negatively.

 
"John, was that when you were wounded?" David asked delicately.

 
"Sorry, sir. I tried to fight with a bad leg, but I couldn't stand no
more. I did fire on them while I was on the ground, but then the stretcher boys
arrived and pulled me off the field," Pvt John replied apologetically.

 
"John, you've done a remarkable job. You don't have to apologize to
anyone," David said with determination. "If anyone deserves a medal,
you would be the first in line."

 
Smiling through his pain, Pvt. John replied, "Sir, my leg. It hurts
something terrible. You can save it, can't you?"

 
"If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to save this leg," David said
boldly, his emotions getting the best of him.

  Pvt.
John laid his head down and closed his eyes as he listened to the distant
sounds of war. Moments later, Dr. Weiss administered chloroform to both
patients until they bravely drifted off into unconsciousness. David then began
the difficult operation to save the proud private’s leg. After sterilizing and
cleaning the severely damaged thigh with alcohol, he reached into the pot of
boiling water and retrieved his scalpel. Working quickly, he began to
restructure the remaining muscle, cutting away the mangled tissue, while saving
as much of the thigh as possible. Satisfied with the results, he began the
arduous task of reconnecting veins, arteries and ligaments, as well as suturing
together muscle and the various layers of skin.

  As he
worked, Dr. Weiss listened and watched in astonishment as David explained the
complicated techniques on Pvt. John’s badly wounded thigh. Adding to the
complexity of his task, step by step David patiently mentored Dr. Weiss in the
delicate, yet simpler procedure to save Pvt. Jimmy’s leg. Quickly and
efficiently, the two operated while racing against the clock, before the
effects of the chloroform wore off.

  Nearly
complete, David craned his head toward the window as he heard the far-off
sounds of galloping horses. The violence of the battle became more evident as
he noticed not one, but three ambulances hurrying to the front of the
farmhouse. He quickly instructed Dr. Weiss in the proper form of bandaging
wounds, taking care to emphasize the importance of not infecting the wounds as
he worked, then ran out to meet the arriving wounded soldiers.

  David
quickly assessed the men and separated the most severely wounded from those who
held the greatest chance of recovery; a common practice for that time period.
For a brief moment, he reflected on this practice, and how in his time period,
conversely, modern medicine allowed for the most severely wounded to be treated
first, thereby saving a much greater number of injured. David realized sadly
that the men he singled out as severely wounded were, in effect, given a death
sentence. Without the time or resources, there was practically nothing he could
do to save them.

  With
the wounded piling up on the front porch, he quickly directed Dr. Rogers to
join he and Dr. Weiss in the main room, hoping to create an assembly line type
of operating atmosphere, where Dr. Rogers would sterilize and prep the wounds,
David would perform the main operation, and Dr. Weiss would close and bandage
the wounds. With both doctors working on either side of him, he felt he could
mentor and operate at the same time. David theorized that the rate of treating
the wounded would be only slightly slower than if they all worked
independently, but the quality of treatment would be far superior overall, with
the added benefit that he could train both doctors at the same time. He hoped
that within a short time, with what limited knowledge they had of anatomy and
medicine, he could teach them the skills to treat specific wounds.