Tear In Time (26 page)

  “So,
Dr. Warner. I must commend you on the bravery and good sense you displayed at
the skirmish line,” Gen. Negley said to David. “Good to know I have capable
officers that can lead.”

  “Thank
you, sir,” David replied, a bit embarrassed by the compliment.

  Looking
across the fire, he saw Dr. Morgan beaming like a proud father.

 
Looking back at David, he continued, “I hear you were wounded. I presume it was
nothing substantial?” Gen. Negley asked.

  “No,
sir. It was just a little scratch on my neck. I was pretty lucky,” David
replied, as he pulled his collar down a bit to show the general.

  Gen.
Negley leaned forward and gave the wound a quick glance, nodded and returned to
his cigar. A moment later, he announced, “It wasn't your time.”

 
Silence came over the campsite as they all contemplated the general's
statement.

 
Finally, David's curiosity forced his next question of the general. “Sir, I'm
assuming you are referring to the philosophy that everyone has a predetermined
point in their life that dictates when they will die. Could you expound upon
this topic a bit? I'm curious to hear your point of view.”

 
“Certainly. I believe, as many officers do, that there is a predetermined time
when we are supposed to die. Whether it's God's plan, fate, or some other
force, I cannot say: but what I can tell you is that I've been witness to
countless miracles where a soldier is fired upon from impossible numbers and
walks away unscathed. Coincidence? I do not believe so. I've witnessed artillery
explode right at the feet of soldiers, killing all but one, and he too walks
away unscathed. I myself have ridden through countless hails of bullets,
watching men die all around, except for me."

  Gen.
Negley took a long draw on his cigar and exhaled. Rolling it between his
fingers, he continued, "Son, I am a man of logic, not easily swayed by the
willy-nilly or some fanciful delusion conjured up to sate the fears of the weak
or the ignorant. No, sir. Until it is your time, you may venture into the valley
of the shadow of death and dance a jig with Satan himself. Conversely. though,
when it is your time," Gen. Negley leaned toward David for effect,
"not even the hand of God can save you."

  David
thought about the general's statement for a moment, then replied, "Sir,
your analysis of death is interesting. I'd like to believe it. It would sure
lessen my worries about dying out there on the battlefield, but it does have
one flaw. and that is..."

 
"Suicide?" Gen. Negley cut in, second guessing David’s question.

 
"Yeah. What about the man hell bent on killing himself? Is that also
factored into his destiny?" David asked, trying not to sound
insubordinate.

 
"Certainly not. Suicide is not an act of God, nor the result of fate. It
is a deliberate tampering of the natural order of things. In essence, it is
vandalism. I suspect that a suicide, in the hereafter, must atone for this act
of vandalism in some way that eventually restores that natural order,"
Gen. Negley said.

 
"How so?" David inquired.

 
"Only God himself knows that answer, but personally, I believe a man who
takes his own life would have to come back in his next life and repair the
mistakes that led up to that suicide. In other words, the suicide didn't solve
the problem: he only prolonged it," Gen. Negley finished.

  “So
what you are saying is that a person is reincarnated and must resolve their
problems in their new life before they can move on? I believe this has roots in
the Buddhist and Hindu spiritual beliefs,” David surmised.

  “I
don’t know the particulars of any of those religions, but basically your
summation defines my belief,” Gen. Negley replied.

  David
nodded in understanding. The beliefs of the general were not of David’s, and he
felt that friendly silence was the best way to politely redirect the topic.

 
"Jim, you realize you still haven't told us where we're heading?" Dr.
Morgan said, using the silence to change the subject to a topic more pressing.

  Gen.
Negley glanced over at his old friend and replied, "Ever hear of
Sharpsburg, Maryland?"

 
"I've heard of it. What's it near?" Dr. Morgan asked, almost with
indifference.

 
"A long, winding creek named Antietam," Gen. Negley replied.

 
"ANTIETAM?" David asked, visibly shaken by this new revelation.

  “You
know the place, doctor?” Gen. Negley asked, surprised by David’s reaction.

  “I’ve
heard of it,” David responded, now trying to cover his reaction with
nonchalance.

  “By
your reaction, I’d say you’ve more than just heard of it. What do you know about
Sharpsburg?” Gen. Negley pressed.

  David
looked over at Dr. Morgan, then back to Gen. Negley. He searched his mind for
an answer that didn’t include knowledge of the future. With seconds ticking by
and the pressure mounting, he blurted out the first thing he could think of.

  “I
overheard a wounded soldier speak of it,” David blurted out, feeling like a kid
lying to the teacher. He added more, trying to add credibility to the lie: “He
was in a state of delirium, repeating gibberish over and over. I guess he must
have come from that region. Maybe he just wanted to go home.”

  Gen.
Negley fell deep in thought for a brief moment, his face overcome by sadness.
He cleared his throat and uttered softly, “Poor lad… poor lad.”

  David
felt shame and guilt at lying to the general, but knew the consequences of
truth. Quiet fell over the campsite once more, until a large ember popped,
startling all. Gen. Negley took one final draw on his cigar and tossed it into
the fire. He then stood and stretched a bit.

  “Well,
gents, I believe it’s time for me to retire for the evening. No need to get
up,” Gen. Negley said. “I suppose I won’t be seeing you two on the march before
some time. Just be careful. We don’t want you falling into the wrong hands and spending
the rest of the war patching up Rebs.” He paused a moment, then continued. “Oh,
and Jeb… thanks for that cigar. I’ll requisition some replacements.”

  “Quite
right, Jim, quite right,” Dr. Morgan replied.

  Gen.
Negley nodded his hat to David, turned and mounted his horse. “Get some rest. I
have a feeling you’ll be needing it.” He said.

  As he
galloped off, the distinct sound of the hooves faded into the night. David
looked across the fire at Dr. Morgan, who was now staring at him with intense
concern.

  “Son,
tell me about Antietam,” the wise old doctor asked.

  “Like
the general said: ‘get some rest. You’ll need it’,” David replied, as worry
stretched across his face.

  “That
bad?" Dr. Morgan pressed.

 
"We're going to need more doctors. We're going to need a LOT more
doctors,” David replied.

September
17th, 1862

  David
put another log on the fire then poked the embers beneath. In the early morning
darkness, sparks and smoke rose quickly into the cool air and disappeared
above. David reached into the large tub of water that sat precariously atop the
raging fire and quickly dipped his index finger, testing the temperature of the
water. With a muted yelp, he shook his reddened digit in the air in a feeble
attempt to relieve the pain from his temporary scald.

 
Looking toward the east, David could just make out the distinctive tops of the
tree line that were silhouetted by the aurora of early dawn. Turning to the
west, the windows of the commandeered farmhouse and barns were dimly lit, and
he could detect the frantic activity inside as the inhabitants hurried past the
oil lamps, casting shadows onto the windows and beyond.

  David
pulled a shiny silver pocket watch from his coat and noted the time: 5:25
am.  He then began to twist the dial at the top of the watch, rewinding
the time piece, repeating the morning ritual slightly earlier than he had done
over the previous two months. The watch had belonged to the Lieutenant who
‘owned’ the suit prior to David, and carried an inscription on the back:
‘S.J.W.  – May 25, 1860’.  David rubbed his thumb over the date and
tried to imagine the man that had paid the ultimate price for his country. He
then deposited the watch back into his coat pocket and headed toward the front
porch of the farmhouse. As David stepped through the front door, he heard the
unmistakable sound of distant artillery. The battle of Antietam had now begun.

The Battle
of Antietam:

 
Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17, 1862, Union Maj. Gen. George McClellan,
commanding nearly ninety thousand troops, confronted Confederate General Robert
E. Lee, who commanded fifty-five thousand troops.

  The
battlegrounds were rectangular in shape, the width measuring one mile east to
west at its furthest points of activity, and spanning four miles in length,
running north to south. At the far northern edge of the battlefield was
Miller’s cornfield. Generally square in shape, it was protected by forest on
three sides: north, east and west, each aptly named: the North Woods, the East
Woods and the West Woods.

 
Further south, near the middle of the battlefield on the western side, sat
Dunker Church. Its elevated plateau held a commanding view from the north to
south.

  South
of Dunker Church, Bloody Lane ran west to east in a sunken trench carved out
from years of wagon passage.

  On the
southern edge of the battleground, Burnside Bridge spanned Antietam Creek, a
distance of sixty to one hundred feet in width and nearly waist deep in some
areas.

 
Antietam Creek ran the entire length of the battlefield on the eastern side,
whereas the western side held rocky ledges, limestone outcroppings and hastily
assembled breastworks.

  The
battle consisted of three campaigns: the Morning Campaign promptly at 5:30am,
taking place in Miller's cornfield on the northern edge, the Midday Campaign,
fought around the Dunker Church and across Bloody Lane and through the center
of the battlefield, and the Afternoon Campaign, surrounding Burnside Bridge on the
southern edge.

---- 
-----  -----  -----

  At
dawn on September 17, Union Maj. General Joseph Hooker mounted a powerful
assault on Confederate General Robert E. Lee’s left flank that began the
battle. Throughout the early morning, repeated Union attacks, and equally
vicious Confederate counterattacks, swept back and forth across Miller’s
cornfield in the north. The savagery of the conflict left the cornfield shorn
to close to the ground within minutes.

  As the
battle’s movement advanced south, Confederate General Stonewall Jackson’s
forces near the Dunker Church were able to hold their ground early in the
battle, despite the greater Union numerical advantage.

 
Progressing further into the battle, Union Gen. John Sedgwick attacked
Confederate troops in the West Woods. The Confederates launched a spirited
counterattack on both flanks of Gen. Sedgwick's men, driving back the Union
forces and inflicting appalling casualties.

  By
mid-morning, towards the center of the battlefield, Union assaults against the
Sunken Road, later referred to as ‘Bloody Lane’, pierced the Confederate center
after a horrific struggle for this key defensive position.  Unfortunately
for the Union army, this pivotal advantage in the center of the battlefield was
not followed up with further advances, and was eventually fought to a draw in
the afternoon.

  Later
in the day, at the southern end of the battlefield, Maj. General Ambrose
Burnside pushed across a bullet-strewn stone bridge over Antietam Creek and,
with great difficulty, managed to drive back the Confederate forces. At a
crucial moment, Confederate General A.P. Hill arrived on the battlefield and
counterattacked, driving back Burnside to his original point of entry into the
battle.