Tear In Time (32 page)

  “I'm
positive, doc; I remember it from my history class. The Union retreats and the
Rebs take Washington, which then inspires other countries to get involved,”
David responded.

  “Are
you ready?” Dr. Morgan asked in a hushed tone.

  “As
ready as I'll ever be. I just hope your plan for escape works. I know we'll be
riding away on horses, but I just can't help but worry that somewhere out
there, the Confederates will be waiting,” David said, confessing his worry. “I
have to tell you. I'm also feeling guilty about leaving the men. I wish there
was some way to alert them of their impending capture.”

  “There
really isn't anything you can say to them, David. You cannot tell them that you
are from the future, and that you know that the Confederates are about to take
over the country and that they better run for their lives, else they will be
imprisoned,” Dr. Morgan said. “Command would have you shot for spreading that
kind of propaganda.”

  “I
know. It just sucks that I have this knowledge and can't do anything to prevent
this disaster,” David replied

 
“David, by the sound of things, we've changed the future enough. If this
overrun by the Confederates is supposed to happen, then allow fate to run its
course,” Dr. Morgan advised. “The future will overcome.”

  “I
understand,” David replied with a nod.

  “Very
well. At the first sign of trouble, I will hail you,” Dr. Morgan said.

  With
that, both men nodded and turned back to their work.

  While
the Union armies were bolstering their lines through the night, Confederates
too were advancing in greater numbers to meet the challenge. By morning, their
size had tripled, just as the Union had done previously.

  Out on
the battlefield, the fight raged violently. Confederate Gen. Lee resumed his
attack on Union Gen. Meade, sending artillery and mini-ball mercilessly toward
the Union’s higher ground. With each volley, hundreds of men fell.

 
Holding their positions from the previous night, the Union lines stretch south
from Cemetery Hill, through the Peach Orchard, the Wheatfield, and onto Round
Top. Additionally, the line stretched southeast to Culp's Hill.

 
Sending artillery from Seminary Ridge, west of the Union positions, the
Confederates pounded the Union's higher ground, hoping to weaken their lines
and exploit any weakness. The attacks and counterattacks waged back and forth,
but still the Union lines held.

  By
noon, the Confederates were launching attacks from three sides: from the east
onto Culp's Hill; from the west toward Cemetery Ridge; and from the southwest
toward Round Top. Each of the three attacks were weakening the Union lines, but
none collapsed.

  As
David checked his pocket watch, he began to realize that something was amiss.
The Confederate breakthrough and eventual overrun hadn't materialized. He had
waited all morning in anticipation of a harried and desperate retreat, but now,
well past the predicted time of that event, he was still waiting. Something had
changed, and David knew what that change was – the absence of Stonewall
Jackson. Without his presence, the Southern army lacked the leadership to mount
an effective charge.

  David
began to breathe a nervous sigh of relief.  He was now standing in
uncharted territory, as he realized that the future was now unwritten. With the
Confederate overrun seemingly past, David stowed his pocket watch and prepared
for more surgery.

 
Moments later, he heard the familiar gallop from Gen. Negley's horse. Turning
to Dr. Morgan, fear swept his body once more.

 
“Dammit, I was hoping the future had changed again. Do you think this is it?”
David asked nervously to Dr. Morgan.

  “Could
be, lad. Without Stonewall, the overrun may have just taken longer. I'll fetch
our belongings,” Dr. Morgan replied.

Just then
Gen. Negley burst through the front door, his face swept with anxiety. He
scanned the interior of the blood-soaked room, located David, and steamed over
to him with purpose.

  “David,”
Gen. Negley started, “I am in desperate need of your help. Please join me
outside.” Turning to Dr. Morgan, he continued, “You too, Jeb. This affects you
as well.”

 
“Certainly, Jim,” Dr. Morgan replied. He turned to David and motioned him to
follow outside.

  The
three exited onto the porch, where Gen. Negley immediately began.

 
“David, our lines are in danger of collapse. To the south we have the largest
concentration of forces at elevated positions. They are suffering terrible
losses and are weakening. Unfortunately, I have no reserves at my disposal. To
the east, I have a smaller force ready to engage the enemy. If we can defeat
this enemy on the east, I can send them to the south and turn the tide of this
battle,” Gen. Negley explained.

  David
listened intently as the general continued, “Leadership for those forces have
all but been eliminated, save for a handful of sergeants. I am left with but
one qualified man to lead the entire brigade. He is a remarkable general, but
even at that, he will be ineffective.”

 
“General Negley, I'm confused. How does this affect me?” David cut in.

  “Son,
I've seen you lead scores of men. You are also a highly-skilled marksman, and
Jeb here tells me your skill with a saber is remarkable,” Gen. Negley said. He
paused a moment to collect his thoughts, then continued, “David, I know your
primary occupation is that of a surgeon, but I need you to lead these men in
battle.”

 
David's knees buckled a bit, then straightened as he digested the general’s request.
He searched his face for some sign of resignation, some hint that he would give
up his appeal, but there was none. The general stood resolutely, determined in
his intent.

  “Sir,
this is craziness. I don't have any experience in these matters, except for
that one time at Cedar Mountain. I could end up doing more harm than good and
getting a lot of people killed in the process,” David pleaded.

  “Son,
I know that this act of desperation may seem ill-conceived, but trust my word:
I have thought deeply on this matter. You are as skilled a military leader as
you are a surgeon,” Gen. Negley responded.

  “But
what about all these men? Many will die without my help,” David replied,
searching for an excuse.

 
“David, those men are already dead. It is only that the Confederates have not
yet broken through that they are still alive. As sure as I am standing here
before you, if I am unable to move my troops in support of the southern
positions, our lines will collapse. It is an undeniable truth,” Gen. Negley
explained. Turning and point to the wounded, he continued, “Those men, this
army, our country can only be saved through immediate and decisive actions by
determined and talented men. One is on the field; the other is standing before
me.”

  “Do I
have a choice?” David asked, shame detectable in his tone.

  “As
one of our finest surgeons, I will not order you into battle, but as a
gentleman, I am hoping you will volunteer,” Gen. Negley responded.

  David
thought about the general's statement. He knew braver men would proudly accept
the general’s request. David felt overwhelmed by quilt and cowardice as he
struggled with this new order. He looked over at Dr. Morgan, who returned his
stare through disapproving eyes, like a father worried about his son.

  “Who
is the general you're talking about? Have we heard of him before?” David asked,
motioning to both he and Dr. Morgan.

  “His
name is Custer. George Armstrong Custer, he calls himself. He's a little
arrogant, but a fine tactician,” Gen. Negley replied.

 
“Custer? Wow – that’s one for the scrapbooks,” David shot off the cuff.

  “You
know the lad, David?” asked a stunned Dr. Morgan.

  “Yeah,
I've heard of him,” David replied flatly, now trying to hide his knowledge of
the future.

  There
was a moment of silence, then the general began once more.

  “Gen.
Custer and you will both lead the men into battle. Of course, I'd have to
promote you to the rank of Brigadier General as well, to accomplish our mission.
You two would lead Custer's Michigan Calvary against a smaller force led by
Gen. Jeb Stuart Virginia Calvary. If my calculations are correct, I believe the
mismatch would not produce a protracted fight,” Gen. Negley informed.

  “Sir,
I'm ready. When do I leave?” David said impatiently, nearly cutting off the
general mid-sentence.

  The
general stared at David in surprise for a moment, then smiled and extended his
hand in thanks. “Son, I must tell you: I was doubtful of your acceptance. Thank
you,” Gen. Negley stated. “I am indebted to you.”

  “Just
let me grab my things and we'll be off,” David replied.

  Gen.
Negley nodded, then stepped off the porch to prepare his horse.

  David
nodded for Dr. Morgan to follow him back into the farmhouse. Once inside and
out of range of all who could hear, David discussed his decision with Dr.
Morgan.

 
"Son, I'm a bit confused with your reasoning. Your judgment appears
impulsive and erred. I implore you to reconsider your actions," Dr. Morgan
said with deep concern in his voice. "What the general is asking could
easily cost you your life. You are not of this time and what happens in this
time is not of your affair. I realize you have already impacted the future, but
that was unintentional. Son, this is a deliberate tampering with the natural
order of future events," Dr. Morgan finished, raising his voice in an
impassioned plea.

 
"Doc, I understand I could be killed, and I understand your position on
the future, but I'm sure if I do nothing and the Confederates overrun us, I'll
be a captain in this army with little control over my future. On the other
hand, if I fight as a brigadier general and they still overrun us, we as a
nation would be no worse off, but I would then have the benefit of a higher
rank. I'm sure with that higher rank I could get myself back to Chattanooga
much quicker," David replied, straining to control the volume of this
voice. Suddenly, a softness came over David’s face as he continued, "Doc,
this is my chance to get home. It may be my only chance."

 
"And what happens if you prevent the inevitable? That is to say, what
happens then if you prevent the Confederates from overrunning our positions? As
you told me before, the Confederates are supposed to capture Washington. If
this does not happen, what will become of the future?" Dr. Morgan asked.

 
"To coin a wise old sage's words: 'The future will overcome'," David
responded with a smile, using Dr. Morgan's own words to answer the question.

 
"Hmm, yes. Well, we shall see if I am not a fool," Dr. Morgan
replied, his face filled with uncertainty.

-----------------------------------

  The
three men rode at a terrific pace, pushing the horses to the limits of their
endurance. An hour later, as they crested a small bluff, a large valley opened
up, giving a wide panoramic view of the eastern battlefield. Riding down
through a small aspen forest, Gen. Negley slowed their pace. Just ahead, at the
end of the well-worn path, Brig. Gen. George Custer's Michigan brigade readied
themselves for action.

  David
scanned the hundreds of soldiers and horses until his eyes focused on a
flamboyant-looking character with long, curly blond hair and a well-manicured
goatee. Brig. Gen. Custer stood statuesque, like a heroic icon. With his hand
clutching his saber, he monitored the staging of his men, barking orders to
those in need of direction.

 
"That's him – Custer – isn't it?" David asked Dr. Morgan as they
trotted toward camp.

 
"I believe so, son," Dr. Morgan replied.