The Last, Long Night

by Ginny Dye

  Carrie stared into his eyes and spoke with all the confidence she could muster. “I think people can do almost anything they put their minds to. It won’t be easy, but you’ll learn how to compensate for what you’ve lost and figure out how to do things a different way.”

  Obviously trying to draw strength from her confidence, Jasper stared back into her eyes. Finally he nodded. “I reckon that’s the truth,” he said, tiredness weakening his voice and causing his eyes to flutter. “I aim to be a farmer when I get back home.” He managed a weak grin before he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  Carrie stayed where she was, bathing his face and washing his hair. When he woke, he would be clean and warm probably for the first time in months. As she cleaned him, she prayed Jasper would find courage and determination to create a new life.

  Already dark before Carrie finished with her last patient, she prepared to go home. Dr. Wild had promised to wait for her and walk her down the hill to her father’s house. She had reached for her coat and scarf when she heard someone call her name. She looked up wearily, ready to pass off whatever it was to an orderly.

  One of the ward assistants moved quickly down the row of patients. “It’s Jasper Appleton,” she said. “I know you took a special interest in him.”

  “What’s wrong?” Carrie asked sharply, already moving in that direction.

  “He started running a fever about an hour ago. Now it’s spiked really high, and we can’t get it down.”

  “We’ll check him together,” Dr. Wild said as he reached her side.

  Carrie smiled at him gratefully but then groaned when she saw Jasper’s flushed face and heard his rapid, shallow breathing. She reached down, gently unwrapped the bandages from his amputated foot, and bit back a groan as she stared at the angry red lines shooting up from the badly swollen stump.

  Dr. Wild removed the other bandage, revealing the same angry infection spreading out from the amputated toes.

  Carrie took a deep breath and then moved quickly to take her coat off. “Bring me some goldenseal salve,” she said crisply, willing energy to replace her fatigue.

  “Do you know this one?” Dr. Wild asked.

  “Remember Perry Appleton from last year?”

  “The one who married your friend Louisa?”

  “Yes. Jasper is Perry’s brother. He’s actually happy we amputated everything because now he won’t have to go back to the trenches. He wants to be a farmer,” Carrie finished heavily, fighting back tears of sorrow and fatigue.

  Dr. Wild nodded grimly. “Let’s see if we can send him home to do that.”

  Long past midnight, Carrie arrived home from the hospital and said good night to Dr. Wild, who hurried on to his lodging for a few hours of sleep. She was dismayed to find Thomas and Jeremy waiting up for her. In no mood for conversation, she managed a weak smile as she turned for the stairs.

  “Carrie, wait,” her father said.

  Carrie took a deep breath and turned. “I’m exhausted, Father. Can we talk in the morning?”

  “Yes, of course, but why are you home so late?”

  Carrie bit back the burning words that yearned to spew out of her mouth and said, “We had many patients today.” She didn’t trust herself to say more.

  “But there were no battles today,” Thomas protested.

  “No, there weren’t,” Carrie said evenly, refusing to look at Jeremy because she knew he would see past her control. The fact that her father didn’t told her he had also had an upsetting day, but she couldn’t take anything else tonight.

  “There wouldn’t be any more battles if Lincoln wasn’t such a hard-headed and unreasonable man,” Thomas said bitterly.

  Carrie sighed. What had made her think she could slip up to her room and fall across her bed? She waited for her father to expound on whatever had happened in the Capitol.

  Thomas took her silence as a desire to listen. “President Davis had a visit from Montgomery Blair. He came with a pass from President Lincoln, so our own president, of course, assumed it meant Lincoln had some desire to talk peace.”

  He paused, waiting for Carrie to say something. When she just looked at him, he continued. “President Davis named Vice-President Stephens, Assistant Secretary of War Campbell, and Senator Hunter as the three men who would confer with Lincoln and sent them over the lines to Grant’s headquarters two days ago.”

  Carrie knew better than to think the story could end well when her father was so upset, but the word peace had her hoping for the impossible. “And…?”

  “Grant sent a telegram to Washington urging the president to meet with them. They met yesterday at Fort Monroe.”

  Carrie was too tired for details. “What happened, Father? Is there going to be peace?”

  Thomas snorted. “Lincoln made it very clear to them there would be no peace without complete reunion and the abolition of slavery. When Vice-President Stephens proposed some kind of armistice that would allow us to exist as separate countries, Lincoln told him ‘the only basis on which he would entertain a proposition for a settlement was the recognition and re-establishment of the national authority through the land.’” He stopped and waited for Carrie’s reaction.

  She merely looked at him, the fatigue from the long day suddenly swamping through her like a tidal wave. Her eyes blurred as she thought longingly of turning, walking upstairs, and falling into bed.

  “Don’t you find that appalling?” Thomas demanded.

  “I find it rather expected,” she said bluntly, somehow forcing her brain cells back to life.

  “Expected?”

  “Yes.” Carrie no longer cared what impact her words would have. “Our representatives seemed to have gone in with the thought of negotiating on equal terms. I’d say the South has no negotiating strength since we’re on the brink of extinction, and the North is obviously winning the war.”

  Thomas stared at her, disappointment shining in his eyes.

  The disappointment shredded Carrie’s last bit of self-control. “I’m sick of all of it!” she cried. “I don’t care about stupid men trying to play politics while they gamble with our lives.”

  “Stupid men?” her father asked, anger sparking in his eyes. “You are talking about very important men.”

  “I’m talking about men who couldn’t see past their noses four years ago, or we wouldn’t be in this war,” Carrie snapped, his anger fueling her own. “Not one person thought past his own agenda, and they’re still not thinking past their own agendas, or I wouldn’t have spent all day amputating frozen feet and hands off the soldiers these important men make fight in a war they have no hope of winning!” she said sarcastically.

  She saw alarm on her father’s face, but now that the words were flowing, she could not turn them off. “This morning I helped amputate the right foot, all the toes, and three fingers from the left hand of Jasper Appleton, Louisa’s brother-in-law that she will never have the pleasure to meet because of this war. I held him an hour ago while he died from massive infection that set in because important men sent him and hundreds of other men to entrenchments in this freezing weather without socks, shoes, gloves, and warm clothing. Many of those men arrived at the hospital today to have limbs amputated because important men recklessly sacrifice other men.”

  She spun around and stared at the room. “We stand here in this warm house beside a hot fire and pretend we have some idea of how these men are suffering, but we know nothing, and we still continue to think it’s important for them to suffer and die in those horrible trenches because we’re afraid of losing what we value.”

  Thomas cleared his throat and stepped toward her, his anger turned to alarm as he reached out to take her hand. “I know it’s difficult, Carrie…”

  “Difficult?” Carrie cried, moving out of reach, anger surging through her like a burning fire. “Do you know Jasper was happy for us to cut off his foot because it meant he would never have to go back to the trenches? Do you know our men hardly ever sleep because the Union s
ends over artillery every few minutes to keep them awake? Do you know they go days with no food at all, or just a few bites? Do you know how many of those soldiers defending what important men believe needs to be defended aren’t wearing shoes – the reason we amputated so many feet today?” She gasped for air as anger and sorrow threatened to strangle her. “How many of those important men would leave their nice warm homes to go spend time in the trenches?”

  “Now wait a minute,” Thomas replied sternly. “Everyone knows the price those men are paying.”

  “Oh, really?” Carrie was far beyond caring what anyone thought. She flung the door open, strode out onto the porch, picked up a large crate, and walked back inside, dropping it on the floor. “There’s your price, Father!”

  Complete silence wrapped the room as Thomas and Jeremy stared in horror at the crate full of amputated feet, hands, toes, and fingers.

  Carrie was vaguely aware of Janie entering the room. She leaned into her friend when Janie walked up close beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. The touch drained all the anger from her and left her a hollow shell. She stared down at the box of carnage as tears poured down her face, sobs wracking her body. Janie pulled her into her arms and held her as the tears flowed.

  Thomas was the first to speak. “What can we do?” he asked quietly.

  Carrie looked at him sharply, relaxing a little when she realized he was serious. The box on the floor had brought the truth home to him. At that moment she loved her father more than she ever had. In spite of his own burdens, he was putting aside his anxiety to offer help now that he could see how devastated she was.

  Jeremy walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “We have to do something,” he murmured, his eyes burning with the fire of anger and sorrow.

  “Yes,” Carrie whispered. “I have a plan.”

  The next morning, after Janie’s strict orders had her sleeping until long after the sun was up, Carrie gathered in the kitchen with Janie, Clifford, Thomas, and Jeremy. A good night’s sleep had restored her energy, but had done nothing to alleviate her disgust and determination to do something. More snow had fallen during the night, but now a weak sun glistened on the heavily laden limbs.

  Carrie carefully outlined her plan, grateful her father and Jeremy had taken the day off.

  “It will certainly shock people,” Janie murmured.

  “As well it should,” Jeremy agreed. “Sometimes it takes the shock effect to get people to take action.”

  Now that the plan was in place, Carrie was having second thoughts. “We won’t get enough for everyone,” she muttered.

  “No,” Thomas agreed, “but we will help many of them.” He paused and gripped her hand. “If we can keep some from having their feet amputated, it will be a great thing.”

  Carrie caught herself before she said that a great thing would be if the Confederacy gave up and let all the soldiers go home. She knew, however right it would be, that it was also completely unrealistic. The best thing any of them could do was focus on what could be done.

  She gazed around the room and nodded. “Are we ready?” As everyone nodded gravely, she went out onto the porch, picked up the box she had brought home the night before, and deposited it into the carriage Spencer had waiting for them. His face tightened when he looked down at the contents, but he didn’t say anything.

  It took just minutes to get downtown. The roads were mostly empty of carriages, but even on a frigid day people were roaming the streets, looking for human connection in the midst of war.

  Carrie placed the crate on its side so that the frozen limbs spilled out onto the street. All of them took their posts and waited for people to take notice.

  In less than one minute, the first small group had gathered, staring in disgust at the contents of the box. Carrie had to agree the bloody stumps made a strong impression. She was counting on it.

  “What’s this all about?” a warmly dressed woman demanded. “You can’t have this kind of thing out here.” Her lips tightened with disgust.

  Carrie stepped forward. “I agree it’s disgusting,” she said, making sure her voice was loud enough to carry. “But I’m afraid what is even more disgusting is that these feet, fingers, toes, and hands were amputated from our own soldiers yesterday.” She gazed around as more people stopped, drawn by the growing crowd. “They were not amputated because of battle…” She let her voice draw out dramatically. “They were amputated because our soldiers are in those trenches without shoes, socks, gloves, or warm coats. They were amputated because their feet froze solid, and our only recourse was to amputate them.”

  “How did you get them?” one of the bystanders asked suspiciously, eyeing her as if she were dangerous.

  Carrie kept her voice even. “I assist one of the surgeons at Chimborazo Hospital. Over two hundred men were brought into the hospital yesterday. Every single one of them had something amputated – had their lives destroyed. And all because they are freezing to death.” Her voice choked on the words.

  Thomas stepped forward. “I serve in the Virginia government,” he said loudly. “I was oblivious to how terrible the suffering is until my daughter brought home this box last night.” His voice grew louder. “We can all do something about it. I’m willing to bet most of you have an extra pair of shoes, a coat, wool socks, or something the men can wear as gloves.” He gazed around the crowd. “I know everyone in this city is suffering, but thousands of men are risking their lives for us right this minute as they fight in the trenches around Petersburg. The least we can do is make sure they don’t die or become dismembered because they don’t have clothes.”

  “We can’t help them all,” one woman muttered.

  Jeremy stepped forward then. “No, we can’t help them all, but we can help a lot of them if everyone in this crowd brings something back. We can help more if you share this with your neighbors and ask them to help.”

  The crowd had grown to several dozen people. Jeremy picked up the box and held it where everyone could see. “This could have been your husband, your brother, or your son. This didn’t have to happen,” he called out. “We let this happen because we haven’t provided enough clothing or food for our soldiers.” He anticipated the argument in people’s minds. “Yes, our government is responsible for supplying our troops, but I would like to suggest that responsibility is not the issue here. It’s a matter of compassion. Can you really look at this and not do something to help?”

  “How do we even know it will get to them?” another called angrily.

  Thomas stepped forward again. “I know there is reason to distrust the people supplying our troops. It hurts me to admit it, but I know it’s true.” He waited while silence fell on the crowd. They listened attentively. “The five of us will be taking everything down ourselves. We’ll make sure it gets straight into the hands of our brave men.”

  Janie stepped forward then. “We’re counting on all of you to help. Please go home and gather what you can. Anything will help. Even warm cloth can be used to wrap feet that would freeze. I promise you it will all be put to good use.”

  Carrie held her breath as she watched the faces of those in the crowd. One by one onlookers drifted away, talking among themselves. “What do you think they’ll do?” she asked Janie.

  “That’s not up to us,” Janie said with a shrug. “We’ve given them an opportunity to help. That’s all we can do.”

  Another crowd began to gather. Carrie stepped forward to repeat what she had said earlier. All morning long crowds gathered, growing bigger every time as the word spread. At one point, she saw her father talking to several Richmond policemen who looked as if they had come to put an end to things. After her father had spoken to them for several minutes, they smiled, nodded their encouragement to Carrie, and moved on.

  But the crowds didn’t just listen and drift away. They listened, left, and came back with items they left on the ground next to the box of body parts.

  “Look at all of it,” Janie whispered excit
edly, her eyes glowing.

  Carrie wiped away tears and stepped up to deliver her speech again.

  Early the next morning, as the sun was cresting the horizon, the five of them met again around the table. May ladled up steaming bowls of hot oatmeal as they waited for the four wagons the army had agreed to provide to carry everything that had been gathered.

  Carrie was exhausted, but excited. She and the others had stayed on the streets until dark had driven everyone inside to the warmth of their homes. The pile had grown throughout the day. “I wasn’t sure the army would let us deliver it,” she said quietly, trying to push aside the hope she would see Robert. With over ten thousand men in the trenches, it was unlikely they would meet.

  “The army wasn’t,” her father stated. “It took a personal visit from Governor Smith to convince them otherwise.” He looked around the table. “I want to make sure everyone here understands what a risk we are taking. Fighting could break out at any time, or a shell could land on us. We’re going into a war zone.”

  “We promised,” Carrie responded. “More news has come out about how little of the food we prepared for the Christmas dinner actually reached our troops. It seems corrupt speculation isn’t limited to business owners.” Her voice thickened with disgust. “I still can’t believe the people responsible for taking that food sold some of it for profit.”

  Janie laid her hand over Carrie’s. “It won’t happen with these clothes,” she said firmly.

  Clifford nodded. “The army is providing an armed guard along with the wagons. They realize we are accepting the risk. They’re so grateful to be getting the clothes they’re willing to let us do it our way.”

  Carrie looked up as she heard the wagons rumble to a stop in front of the house. She walked outside and smiled at Jeremy who was perched on one of the wagon seats. He had insisted on staying with everything they had gathered last night to make sure speculators didn’t take off with it. His eyes were glazed with exhaustion, but his triumphant smile said it had been worth it.