Let There Be Light

by Al Lacy

  Nate recognized the voice. It was Millie Ross. He swung his gaze that direction as both doctors walked toward her. Millie was standing at the bed of Corporal Eddie Truitt, who had been under Nate’s command in the battle at Winchester. He knew that Eddie had been seriously wounded with a bullet very close to his heart and had suffered many complications since being at the hospital, but Millie had told him that the doctors thought he would make it.

  Nate’s eyes were riveted on the scene. Both doctors were leaning over Eddie, working furiously as Millie helped them. Soon it became obvious to Nate and everyone else in the ward that Corporal Eddie Truitt was dying. Nate closed his eyes. “Oh no! Not Eddie!”

  When he opened his eyes and looked in that direction again, Millie was sadly pulling a sheet up over Eddie’s face. Dr. Walton called for a cart, and the body was taken away.

  Nate clenched his teeth. Sick at heart for his Union comrades who had already lost their lives as a result of the Winchester battle, but grieving especially over Eddie, Nate began to weep. His head was down as his body shook from the sobs.

  Suddenly he felt a tender hand on his shoulder. He looked up through his tears into the face of Millie Ross.

  Millie’s features were pinched and compassion was in her eyes. “Nate, are you all right?”

  “Not really,” he said. “Seeing my close friend, Eddie, die really got to me. Eddie was a good soldier, Millie, and this makes the seventh soldier who has died here in the ward from my unit since we were brought here after the Winchester battle. There were nine others who never made it through surgery. It—it’s just so hard to lose them.”

  Millie bent down close to his face, kept her hand on his shoulder, and talked to him in soft tones, trying to comfort him. Her nearness to him and the compassion she was showing served to ease his grief, and after a few minutes, Nate’s weeping ceased.

  On the verge of tears herself, Millie stroked his cheek. “I wish I could take the pain for you, Nate. I knew you and Eddie were good friends. I’ve never lost a close friend to death, but I can imagine how it hurts—especially because Eddie was under your command when he was shot. Just remember, I’m right here for you. If—”

  “Miss Ross,” came the voice of Letha Phillips, the head nurse on the day shift, “I need to talk to you as soon as you are finished taking care of Lieutenant Conrad.”

  With that, the woman headed toward the nurse’s station.

  Nate noticed a frown crease Millie’s brow as she watched Letha Phillips walk away in a rather stiff-legged manner. “Millie, is something wrong?”

  She looked back at Nate. “I think so. I’ve never had her talk to me in that tone of voice.”

  “What could you have done to deserve that kind of treatment?”

  Millie shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I’ll see you later.” With that, Millie headed toward the nurse’s station.

  Letha Phillips was talking to another nurse when Millie drew up. Letha glanced at her with a sharp look in her eye, then finished what she was saying to the other nurse.

  As Letha turned to face her, Millie asked, “What did you want to talk to me about, Mrs. Phillips?”

  “Let’s go in here, so we can talk in private.” Letha led her into a small room nearby, opened the door, and gestured for her to enter. Millie stepped in, and Letha closed the door.

  There was guarded curiosity in Millie’s eyes as she waited for Letha to speak.

  Letha put a stern gaze on her. “Millie, I happened to notice the attention you were giving Lieutenant Conrad, and what I saw did not look good.”

  Millie batted her eyelids in surprise at Letha’s tone. “What do you mean?”

  Letha drew a deep breath. “Millie, you shouldn’t have bent so low over his face. It almost looked like you were going to kiss him. And you shouldn’t have been stroking his cheek like that, either. This was just too much familiarity for a nurse to be showing a male patient.”

  “Oh. I … I’m sorry, Mrs. Phillips. I didn’t mean to do something wrong. Nate—Lieutenant Conrad was grieving over Corporal Eddie Truitt, who just died there in the ward. The corporal had been under Lieutenant Conrad’s command in the Winchester battle. They had been close friends. I was just trying to comfort him.”

  Letha grinned crookedly. “Tell me, Millie, doesn’t Lieutenant Conrad mean just a bit more to you than your other patients?”

  A slight blush colored Millie’s features. “Well … ah … you could say that. I liked the lieutenant very much when I first met him, and I like him even more now.”

  Letha’s eyes softened. “I can understand that. You are a single young lady, and he is a single young man. From what I have observed, he likes you very much too. But the two of you must not allow this to show while he is a patient here in the hospital.”

  Millie nodded. “I understand, Mrs. Phillips. I just got carried away this morning when Nate was so torn up over his friend’s death. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  “Please do. Ah …”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Have you two declared special feelings for each other?”

  “No. Not really. But I will tell you that I do have special feelings for him, and I know he has them for me. And when we do actually declare these feelings to each other, I’ll make sure that we keep it to ourselves so I don’t appear unethical in my profession as a nurse.”

  Finally, there was a hint of a smile on Letha’s lips. “Thank you, dear. This is what I was concerned about. You may go back to him now.”

  When Millie returned to Nate, she explained to him what the head nurse talked to her about. “Nate, I owe you an apology.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, for … for appearing so familiar by my actions.”

  Nate looked up into her eyes. “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  He cleared his throat nervously. “Well … do you feel something special toward me?”

  A smile graced her lips. “Yes. I feel something very special toward you.”

  Nate started to take hold of her hand, but stopped short. “Millie, I feel something very special toward you too. You don’t need to apologize to me for your actions this morning when you were trying to comfort me. I loved them. You are such a sweet, kind, and compassionate person. I wanted so much to respond by kissing the hand that was caressing my cheek. But I see Mrs. Phillips’s point. We’ll need to be careful not to show our affection while I am a patient here in the hospital.”

  Millie nodded.

  Nate grinned up at her. “We can talk a little later about how it will be after I’m dismissed from the hospital.”

  Millie smiled. “We will just do that. A little later.”

  7

  ON THAT SAME FRIDAY, OCTOBER 14, Confederate Captain Henry Wirz—commandant of the Andersonville Prison Camp some forty-five miles southwest of Macon, Georgia—gathered the major portion of his guards in front of his small log cabin near the camp’s only gate. They stood in four rows.

  “Men,” said the captain, running his eyes over their faces, “I just received a wire from General John Bell Hood in Rome, Georgia. He informed me of a battle that took place two days ago just outside that city. General Hood’s wire went on to say that he and his regiment took ninety-one Union soldiers as prisoners during the battle. Those ninety-one prisoners are being brought by train to Macon, then they will be transported from Macon to us by wagons. They will arrive here at the camp sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

  Some of the guards’ faces twisted as they looked at each other; there was a buzzing of voices.

  Wirz had lost the use of his left arm in the Battle of Seven Pines in 1862. While it hung like a dead limb from his shoulder, he raised his right arm and waved his hand. “Men, listen to me! I don’t like having to crowd this prison even worse, but there is no choice in the matter. We’ll have to make room for the ninety-one new prisoners.”

  Sergeant Dan Tyler, who was known by all to be
the epitome of optimism, raised his hand from his position in the first row. “Captain, may I say something?”

  Wirz nodded. “Yes, Sergeant.”

  Tyler let a smile spread from ear to ear. “Look at it this way, sir … that’s ninety-one fewer Yankees that our troops out there on the battlefields will have to fight.”

  The other men laughed, and Wirz joined them.

  When the laughter subsided, Wirz set appreciative eyes on Tyler. “Sergeant, I wish I could learn to look on the lighter side of things like you do.”

  Dan Tyler, who had black hair and dark-brown eyes, smiled again. “Captain, I used to look on the dark side of things all the time, and then the change came into my life.”

  Wirz knew what was coming next, but saw no way to stop it. He waited for Tyler to proceed.

  “That change came as I have told you, sir, when I heard the gospel and invited the Lord Jesus Christ into my heart as my Saviour. He dispelled my darkness and filled my heart, soul, and mind with His marvelous light. Sure, life has its hard times, especially for those of us who are fighting this war, but with Jesus in my heart, everything is brighter.”

  Some of the other guards were speaking their agreement with the sergeant when Captain Wirz said, “Gentlemen, I must get back into my office.”

  Lieutenant Harry Fisher, who headed up the prison camp guards, said, “Captain, any special orders about where we should place these new prisoners when they get here?”

  “Just put them wherever you can. Let those prisoners who have comrades from the same units stay together. As we have already seen, it makes for a more pleasant camp with pals sharing the same areas. We don’t coddle anybody, but it helps the atmosphere around here if the prisoners have a measure of contentment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wirz turned and entered his cabin.

  Tyler turned and gave a wide grin to those guards who had spoken their agreement with his testimony. Among them were his closest friends, Corporals Clay Holden and Joel Stevens.

  Lieutenant Fisher looked around at the men. “We’d better get busy and decide where we’re going to put the new prisoners, men. I have a little assignment for Sergeant Tyler. As soon as I explain it to him, I’ll take the rest of you with me and we’ll make preparations.”

  The men began talking in small groups. Tyler stepped up to Fisher, waiting for his assignment. “Just a minute, Sergeant.” Fisher motioned to the latest guard to join the camp, who had arrived late the night before on an army wagon from Macon.

  The new guard smiled and made a quick move to the lieutenant. “Yes, sir?”

  “Have you met Sergeant Tyler yet?”

  “No, sir, but I’ll tell you this—I like him already.”

  “Well, good.” Fisher grinned. “I’m going to have him give you a little tour of the camp, so you’ll know about the place. He will fill you in on some important things and answer any questions you might have.” He introduced the man to Tyler. “Sergeant, this is Corporal Willie Botham.”

  Tyler offered his hand, and Botham gripped it in a friendly shake. “What is your first name, Sergeant?”

  “Dan.”

  “Short for Daniel? Like in the Bible?”

  “That’s it.”

  “I want both of you men to report back to me when the tour is over,” said Fisher.

  Tyler nodded. “Will do, sir. Let’s go, Corporal.”

  As Fisher left to approach the men who were waiting, Tyler ran his hand in a wide circle. “As you can see, Corporal, the entire camp is surrounded by that twelve-foot-high stockade fence.”

  “Yes,” said Botham, noting the guard towers that stood just outside the stockade on all four sides, positioned some two hundred feet apart. Three guards stood in each tower, rifles in their hands.

  “And this gate over here is the camp’s only entrance. There are no other gates.”

  Botham nodded.

  “Well, let’s take a walk so I can show you the whole place.”

  As the corporal moved up beside him, Tyler headed parallel with the stockade fence at a distance of about forty feet. “The camp covers a total of twenty-seven acres inside the fence, Corporal. We also lay claim to the prison graveyard outside the stockade on the north.”

  “Well, I’m glad it’s on the outside.”

  Tyler grinned. “Where are you from?”

  “Knoxville, Tennessee, Sergeant. Actually from a farm some ten miles east of Knoxville. That’s where I was born.”

  Tyler’s eyes brightened. “I’m from Tennessee, too.”

  “Oh, really? What part?”

  “I was born and raised on a cattle ranch some thirteen miles west of Chattanooga.”

  Botham’s face beamed as he extended his hand. “Well, put ’er there, Sergeant! It’s always good to meet another person from Tennessee.”

  Tyler shook his hand for the second time. “That’s for sure! The greenest and most beautiful state in the Confederacy, and twice as beautiful as any other state in the country, or any of the territories.”

  “I agree 100 percent. And I have to brag that Davy Crockett was born just a few miles from where I was, near Greenville. What a hero! As I’m sure you know, he died bravely helping to defend the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas.”

  “Of course.”

  “My dad met him once.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Mm-hmm. In 1833, when Davy was elected the second time as a U.S. representative of Tennessee. He used to talk about it a lot. Of course, I wasn’t born till 1843, seven years after Davy was killed at the Alamo. He was really one of dad’s heroes.”

  “Well, he’s a hero to all of us Tennesseans.”

  “I want to tell you why I told Lieutenant Fisher that I liked you already, even though we hadn’t met.”

  “How come?”

  “It was your testimony. I love Jesus too. I took Him into my heart as my Saviour when I was twelve years old.”

  “Wonderful!” Tyler extended his hand. “Put ’er there, Corporal!” And they shook hands for the third time.

  As they continued to walk slowly, Botham said, “Since you were raised on a cattle ranch, you had to have had horses.”

  “Oh yeah. Did we ever.”

  “I love horses. On our farm, ours were draft horses, but I sure loved to work with them.”

  “For sure. In fact, it was because of my love for horses that I was in a cavalry unit up till six months ago. At that time, I was assigned here at the prison camp because there was a shortage of guards.”

  “Oh. That must have been hard for you.”

  “It was. Have you met Corporal Clay Holden and Corporal Joel Stevens?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you will. Great guys and good Christians too. We were in the same cavalry unit together. They were given their assignment to Andersonville at the same time I was and came here with me.”

  “I see.”

  Tyler and Botham were ascending a slight rise. The sergeant stopped, and pointing around the compound, said, “You can see the entire camp from here.”

  Botham ran a panorama of the full twenty-seven acres. The Union prisoners milled about, looking sad and dejected. Letting his line of sight flit from one group to another, he said, “Sergeant, my heart goes out to them. These men we call our enemies have the same hopes and dreams that we do. They just picture them becoming a reality in a different part of this country.”

  Tyler sighed. “Yes. They have families and friends up north, even as we have here in the South. This war was none of their doing, just like it was none of our doing. Like us, they are human and part of God’s creation. I’m sure many of them are Christians, and it grieves me that we brothers in Christ have to fight each other on the battlefields and be at odds even here in this prison.”

  Botham nodded, a mournful look clouding his face. “Our Christian brothers out there in those dusty blue uniforms may have ideals a little different than ours because they are Northerners and we are Southerners, but basically, we�
�re cut from the same cloth.”

  “Yes. That’s true. I’m just praying that this senseless war will soon be over. Blue or gray, we need to get this thing over with so all of us can be free to spin our own daydreams and plan a better future.”

  Botham turned his sad eyes on Tyler. “I know there have been wars and rumors of wars since man’s early days on this earth, but I don’t pretend to understand it.”

  “Well, it started when Cain declared war on his brother, Abel, and murdered him. 1 John 3:12 tells us that Cain was of that wicked one—the devil. So we know that behind all the wars that mankind has waged is Satan. Jesus said he was a murderer from the beginning.”

  Botham nodded. “That has to be it, Sergeant. I hadn’t thought of it in that light before.”

  “We know that God is in control, Willie. He has a plan, and in that plan, He allows war, just like He allowed Cain to murder Abel. He has a purpose for everything He does and allows, and we must trust in the Lord with all our hearts, and lean not unto our own understanding. One thing for sure: we know that all things work together for good to them who love God. On this earth we may never know the reason that God allowed this Civil War, but while we’re here, we know that all things are working together for the good of God’s children. Right now, I can’t see beyond this disease-infested prison camp, but the Lord is already in my future, just waiting for me to get there.”

  Willie grinned. “You’re a real encouragement, Sergeant. The only thing for you and me is to walk with the Lord, serve Him with everything that is in us, and leave our lives in His powerful hands.”

  Dan Tyler laid his hand on Willie’s shoulder. “That’s it, brother.”

  Willie once again ran his eyes over the scene before them. “I know this place has the reputation for being the worst prison camp in the South, but there isn’t a prison camp—Union or Confederate—that is fit for human beings.”

  “True,” said Tyler.

  “From what I know, Sergeant, this one is so bad because it is so overcrowded, and we’re extremely short on food, clothing, blankets, shelter, and medical supplies.”

  “That’s part of it. Another is that the overcrowding has produced much pollution. That little stream down there that bisects the compound is the prison’s chief source of water. It also serves as the garbage dump for the cookhouse, and it is a breeding spot for mosquitoes, flies, lice, and fleas.”