Encounter at Cold Harbor

by Gilbert L. Morris

  The small man stared at him. “Just bring him on in and put him along the wall somewhere. He’ll have to take his turn.”

  “But he’s got to be operated on. He’s got a bullet in him!”

  “So do all these men. Why do you think they’re here?” the man snapped.

  Tom wanted to say more but knew it was hopeless. He went back outside and said, “Bring him on in, fellas.”

  “All right, Sergeant.”

  Tom noted that his father was now unconscious. “Put him there beside the wall.” When he saw the colonel placed gently down, he said, “Thanks to you both. You fellas go on back and bring in the others. And I know there’s plenty more that’ll need to come here.”

  The ambulance driver looked doubtful. “Don’t see that there’s any room for ’em. Looks pretty bad, don’t it, Sergeant?”

  “Sure does.”

  Tom sat on the floor beside his father. From time to time he would go to the desk and urge the man in charge to get the colonel in to a surgeon. Each time he would be told that the operating room had a line waiting.

  Finally Tom grew desperate. He left the waiting area and walked down the hall, his mind reeling, not knowing what to do. He saw a surgeon moving from one room to another, and he took a deep breath. “Sir,” he said, “may I speak with you?”

  The surgeon was a tall man with weary eyes. He appeared not to have slept in twenty-four hours. He had blood on his apron and looked tired enough to fall over.

  “I’ve got my father outside—Colonel Nelson Majors. He’s got a bullet in his side. Sir, if it doesn’t come out, he’ll die.”

  The surgeon stared at him hard. “Your father, you say?”

  “That’s right, I’m Tom Majors.”

  “You his aide?”

  “Well, that’s all I can do now.” Tom tapped his wooden leg. “I lost this leg at Gettysburg, so I just have to do what I can for the cause.”

  The surgeon hesitated. “I guess I can help you some. Have them bring him into this room right here. I’ll take the bullet out.”

  An hour later, when the bullet had been removed and Tom was sitting beside his father, the surgeon said wearily, “The wound wasn’t too bad. But the trouble with these wounds is that sometimes the bullets carry parts of clothing or metal inside the body—or we don’t get all the bullet. Then it festers, and blood poisoning sets in. That’s what you have to watch out for.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll take care of him.”

  “You’ll have to, son. It looks like all the nurses and doctors around here have got all they can do.”

  The next twelve hours were a nightmare. Tom did the best he could for his father, but by the end of that time he saw that the colonel’s fever was rising. When daylight came, he went again to try to get help. He found the surgeon in charge to be a surly, fat man named Washington.

  “Dr. Washington,” Tom said, “my father’s got a high fever.”

  “I can’t be bothered with that! I’ve got bullets to take out of men … legs to cut off …”

  “But he’s going to die!”

  “A lot of these men are going to die,” Dr. Washington said. “You’ll just have to do the best you can.” He hustled off, leaving Tom staring after him, anger in his eyes.

  He waited in line at the well for an hour. Then he returned to his father and mopped the colonel’s face with water. The colonel’s fever had risen further, and he was mumbling under his breath.

  Tom was frantic. “I’ve got to do something! He’ll die if he doesn’t get better care than this.” God, he prayed silently, show me what to do.

  He sat studying his father’s face, and then suddenly a thought came to him. His lips tightened, and he said, “I’m going to try it, Pa!”

  He stood up and grabbed a passing attendant by the arm. Tom was a strong man, and the attendant was small. He winced as Tom held onto him, increasing his grip. “That’s my father, and he’s Colonel Nelson Majors. You take care of him until I get back, or I’ll turn you wrong side out. You hear me?”

  The attendant, a mousy-looking man, saw the look in the tall soldier’s eye. “Why, sure, Sergeant, I’ll be glad to,” he said. He immediately sat down beside the colonel. “I’ll wait right here.”

  “Be sure you do!” Tom growled. He wheeled and left the room, making plans and assured that the timid attendant would stay right beside his father.

  11

  “Go Get Eileen”

  The banging of fists on the door brought Leah out of a sound sleep with a start. She sat straight up and stared around wildly, convinced for the moment that she was having a nightmare. The room was barely illuminated by a sliver of moon that poured faint, silvery gleams over the bedclothes and the walls. Sitting there with jumbled thoughts racing through her mind—confused and a little afraid—Leah rubbed her eyes.

  The insistent banging came again.

  Slipping out of bed, she grabbed a robe and put it about her shoulders. Outside her bedroom door she met Eileen, who had come from her own room down the hall.

  “What is it?” Leah asked.

  “It must be news about the battle,” Eileen whispered.

  Leah stared at the front door with dread. She knew that she and Eileen were thinking the same thing—death had come for one of the Majorses.

  Quickly Eileen went to the door and put her hand on the key. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me—Tom Majors.”

  Eileen turned the key and flung the door back. She took one glance at Tom’s face and said, “What is it, Tom?”

  “It’s Pa.” The young man’s face was twisted with grief. “He got shot, and I brought him back to Chimborazo.”

  “Oh, Tom,” Leah whispered. She put a hand on his arm. “Is it bad?”

  “Bad enough, I reckon,” Tom said grimly. “They got the bullet out, but he’s got infection, I’m afraid.”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  Anger raced across Tom’s countenance. “They don’t say much of anything! To tell the truth, most of ’em are so busy they don’t know what they’re doing, and the aides run around like crazy men.”

  “What about the nurses?”

  “There’s not enough of ’em, and Pa’s awful sick.”

  “Come in, Tom,” Eileen said, stepping back. “Come into the sitting room and tell us about it.” She led the way, lit a lamp, and then sat in a chair, clutching her robe around her. “Tell us everything. How did it happen?”

  Tom began sketching the battle. He interrupted his story once to say, “Jeff is all right. Jeff done good.”

  “Is he still there, or did he come back with you?”

  “We had to leave him there. We need every man we can get,” he said gravely. “If it hadn’t been for this leg, I’d have sent him with Pa, but he’s a better man than I am right now.”

  “What about Nelson’s wound?”

  “It took him in the side, and the doctor said he was afraid somethin’ got carried in with the musket ball. Maybe some wool cloth from the uniform, or maybe a piece of the bullet broke off. In any case, it’s all turned inflamed, and I don’t know what to do. And the doctors, they’re about crazy trying to do their job. But the one that’s in charge of Pa’s ward, he’s the worst of all.”

  Eileen sat listening, her hands clenched tightly together. Her face grew tense as she listened to Tom’s doleful report of how poorly his father was doing. When he finished, she said, “I’ll go back with you, Tom.”

  An expression of relief swept across his face. “That’s why I came,” he confessed. He ran his hands through his black hair. “I was prayin’, trying to think of what to do, and it came to me: Go get Eileen. I don’t know if it was from the Lord or not, but I don’t see how it could’ve come from anywhere else.”

  “Of course, I’ll go. Leah, you’ll have to stay here and take care of Esther …”

  “Yes, but I wish I could go too.”

  “Your job is here,” Eileen said. “We’ll get back as quick as we can.�
�� She jumped up and left the room without another word.

  Tom stared after her with admiration. “She is some punkins, Eileen Fremont.”

  “Your pa thinks so,” Leah said quietly.

  They waited while Eileen dressed, and as soon as she came back, bearing a small suitcase, all three went to the door.

  “I borrowed a wagon for us to go in, Eileen,” Tom said. “I’ll bring you back after you’ve seen Pa.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Eileen said firmly. Then she kissed Leah. “I wish I could say good-bye to Esther.”

  “I’ll give her a kiss for you,” Leah said. “And I’ll be praying for your father, Tom.”

  “He needs all the prayer he can get.” Tom opened the door.

  Leah watched Tom help Eileen into the wagon. As it rumbled away, she leaned against the door frame. Her thoughts were on the colonel, but she also thought about Jeff, who had been left back at the battle. A sick feeling came over her as she realized that he could be killed at any time. She remembered how badly she had behaved toward him, and she whispered, “Just let him be all right, Lord, and I’ll never act like that again.”

  Eileen marched into the room where Nelson Majors lay on a cot. She had to squeeze past the other beds, and two men were lying on the floor. A terrible odor was in the air. None of the men seemed to have been cared for. She said quietly, “This is awful, Tom.”

  “It is for a fact, but maybe we can get him cleaned up at least.”

  “We can certainly do that. Let’s get some water.” She knelt beside the bed and pulled back the cover.

  The colonel’s eyes opened, and he stared at her blankly.

  “Nelson, are you awake?”

  “Guess so.”

  His voice was so faint that Eileen had to lean forward. “You’re going to be all right.” She brushed his black hair back from his brow. He was burning up with fever, she realized, and she whispered, “I’m here to take care of you now.”

  “Eileen …”

  “Yes, it’s Eileen. You rest now. You’ll be all right, Nelson.”

  For the next hour, Eileen gave commands. She ordered Tom around. She commandeered two aides and threatened them with violence if they did not help her get the entire room cleaned up. The wounded men were made more comfortable, and she went from one to another, changing bandages. Finally she came back to Nelson after sending Tom out for two more buckets of fresh water.

  “We’ve got to get that fever down, Tom,” she said when he returned. “Here, help me.”

  “All right, Eileen. I don’t know anything about it, so you’re the doctor.”

  Together they kept damp cloths on the colonel’s body, and slowly the fever went down.

  “I think he’s better,” Tom said with relief.

  Eileen wiped her brow with the apron she had put on. It was so hot she could barely breathe, and there was only one small window.

  At that moment, a surgeon passed by the door, and Tom said, “There’s Dr. Washington, if you want to see him. I don’t think he’s gonna do much, though.”

  Eileen jumped to her feet and ran to the door. “Doctor!” she said clearly. When he turned, she said, “These men have got to have better care.”

  “And who are you?”

  “My name is Eileen Fremont. I’ve come to take care of Colonel Majors.”

  “Who sent you here? What’s your authority?”

  “My authority is from God, who tells us to care for the sick. I think that’s at least as strong as yours, Doctor!”

  Dr. Washington began to yell. “Get out of this hospital! I’ll have you know I’m in charge here …”

  However, the doctor had apparently never met a woman exactly like Eileen Fremont. She stood listening to him, but even before he quit, she felt anger boiling up in her. She had had trouble with temper all her life in moments of crisis, but now the thought of helpless men being in the care of this incompetent braggart infuriated her.

  “I wonder what President Davis would think if he knew that the wounded men under your charge were being left to wallow in their own filth. Perhaps I should just let him know about it!”

  Washington’s eyes blinked, but he said, “President Davis? You don’t know President Davis!”

  “Do I not? You’ll find out how much I know him!” This was all a bluff on Eileen’s part. The president of the Confederacy did not know she existed— but Dr. Washington could not be sure of that. “Perhaps I should go prove to you how firm our president can be. Maybe he’ll find a place for you on the front lines, Doctor.”

  She got as far as the door to the waiting area when Washington’s voice caught her. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Wait just a minute, can’t you? Don’t push a man like that.”

  Eileen turned and waited. “Well, what are you going to do about these men?”

  “We’re doing the best we can, ma’am. As you can see, we’ve got too many sick men here to care for.”

  “I can see that already,” Eileen conceded. She thought quickly and said, “I think it might be better if I took Colonel Majors to my home. He can be better cared for there than here.”

  Relief washed over the doctor’s face. “If you’ve got a place for him, that might be best. Many of the men have already been taken in by the good people of Richmond. Let me get you an ambulance, and I’ll have two men go to help you with him.”

  “We already have an army ambulance. But the help would be good, Doctor. And the men can bring the wagon back.”

  Washington issued orders quickly, and soon Nelson Majors was lying inside Tom’s wagon.

  Eileen turned to the doctor, feeling bad about the way she had bullied him. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, Dr. Washington,” she said quietly. “It’s just that I’m so concerned about these men. It’s been hard on you, I’m sure, and you have an awful responsibility.”

  Washington swallowed and said, “It’s kind of you to say so, ma’am. And I’ll do my best to see that the men have as good care as we can offer. It’ll help a lot, though, for you to care for the colonel by yourself. There’s really nothing I can do here that you can’t do there.”

  “Good-bye, Doctor, and God bless you.”

  Feeling somewhat better, Dr. Washington lingered at the door to watch the woman and her wagon leave the hospital. That is some red-haired lady, he thought. I hope that colonel appreciates her.

  Leah stood outside and watched the army ambulance pull up in front of Uncle Silas’s house. Without waiting for help, Eileen leaped to the ground. Then she supervised the men carrying the colonel to the door.

  “I got a bed all made up in case you’d bring him,” Leah said. “I gave him the front room, Eileen—it’s got more breeze there.”

  “That’s good, Leah,” Eileen said. “Come this way.” She marched into the front bedroom. “Put him in the bed there!” she commanded.

  “Yes, ma’am!” The two men handled the limp form of Nelson Majors carefully and laid him on the bed.

  Eileen said, “Thank you very much. I appreciate your help.”

  “No trouble, ma’am.”

  As soon as the men were gone, Eileen and Leah went to either side of the bed.

  The colonel’s eyes had been closed, but he opened them. He looked up and blinked, then whispered hoarsely. “Is that you, Eileen?”

  “It’s me, Nelson. You’re home now.” She brushed his hair back and felt his forehead. “Your fever’s coming up again. We’ll have to keep it down.”

  “I’m a lot of trouble.”

  Eileen Fremont kept her hand on his forehead. “How could you be that, Nelson?” she whispered.

  Leah watched as the two looked at each other. Colonel Majors was very sick, but she noticed that when he reached out his hand and Eileen took it, that seemed to give him relief.

  Leah said, “I’ll go get some water, and we can start the cool baths.” As she left, she thought, It’s a good thing Eileen’s here. I think God must’ve sent her for just this reason. I wish Jeff knew about it.
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  12

  The Battle of the Crater

  Jeff raised his head slightly over the log that lay at the top of the trench where he crouched. He did it slowly because a good friend had done the same thing a week earlier and had the top of his head blown off. Both Confederate and Union troops had grown respectful of the sharpshooters.

  The Yankees lay in trenches much like the one he was in, less than four hundred feet away, and everywhere Jeff looked there was a vast maze of tunnels, trenches, and fortifications.

  Slipping back down into the trench, he joined the rest of the squad, who looked as tired, grimy, and disgusted as he was. “Well, I didn’t see anything,” he said.

  “I reckon you won’t see much.” Sergeant Mapes spat tobacco juice down at his feet. “Even the Yankees got more sense than to attack against this kind of defense.”

  “I don’t know what makes you think that!” Curly Henson remarked. He had a pack of homemade playing cards and was playing poker with Jed Hawkins. “They always done it afore!”

  Mapes shook his head. “Yeah, but I saw in the newspaper that the Yankees done lost seventy thousand men since they hit us at the Wilderness.”

  Jeff looked up with astonishment. “Seventy thousand men dead?”

  “Not all of them dead,” Mapes said. “Some of ’em wounded, some just missin’.” He spat an amber stream of juice again. “We can’t go at them, and they can’t go at us.”

  “I don’t like this kind of life,” Jed Hawkins said. He looked at his hand of cards, threw it down, and picked up his guitar. Somehow Jed always managed to have his guitar with him, even in the midst of battle. He strummed for a while, then began to sing. His clear, tenor voice rose over the trenches so that likely even the Federals, lying nearby, could hear him:

  “Wounded and sorrowful, far from my home,

  Sick among strangers, uncared for, unknown;

  Even the birds that used sweetly to sing

  Are silent and swiftly have taken the wing.

  No one but Mother can cheer me today,

  No one for me could so fervently pray;

  None to console me, no kind friend is near;