by Ginny Dye
Peter glanced over and frowned sympathetically. “There was a group of black soldiers wounded during the last few weeks that were still in the hospital. I understand the commanding officer demanded they be brought to Richmond to try and save their lives.”
Matthew thought immediately of Carrie – not that his mind had thought of much else the last few days. “Where are they taking them?”
“I don’t think they know. They’re just bringing them into the city, hoping someone will help them.”
Matthew pursed his lips. “Bringing black soldiers into Richmond right now who need help might not be the wisest thing. Every medical person is white. I don’t think most of them will be sympathetic toward black Union soldiers who are former slaves.”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t think their officer felt he had any other options.”
A sudden shout caught Matthew’s attention.
The holler came from a young Union officer standing on top of the Capitol stairs. “Every able-bodied man is being called to fight the fires!” he yelled above the noise. “I don’t care if you’re black or white. We want to help you save your city, but we’re going to have to work together.”
As he spoke the wind shifted, sending sparks flying onto the roofs of more surrounding houses and buildings. New flames shot into the air. His call to action mobilized all those who had been merely standing around as their city burned. They may be occupied now, but they still had some of their city left.
When it was discovered the fire hoses were useless, buckets appeared from every direction. Young boys leapt forward to join the older men; even women snatched up buckets and began to haul water to the flames. Many buildings were completely gone; now they needed to work together to save the ones still standing.
Matthew and Peter jumped from their horses and joined in the effort.
Carrie and Jeremy reached downtown just as the call went out for firefighters. It was hard to see through the thick smoke and haze. “Go!” Carrie urged Jeremy as she saw his eyes shift toward the throng of men headed into the flames.
“I don’t want to leave you down here alone,” he protested.
“I’m hardly alone,” Carrie said lightly, secretly alarmed by the chaos and fear permeating the air. “There is a town full of Union soldiers. I hardly think I’m in any danger.” She pushed Jeremy in the direction of the fire. “Go. I’d hate to think of our house burning. And stay safe,” she said firmly.
Jeremy hesitated again and then turned to disappear into the smoke.
Carrie stood uncertainly for a few minutes and then decided to move closer to the Capitol building. Whatever happened, she was quite sure those fighting the fire would keep the flames away from it. As she walked toward it through the thick smoke, she was once again thankful her father did not have to see what was happening. She settled down in a small space next to George Washington’s statue and watched the action around her, listening quietly to the frightened women surrounding her.
“The horrible Stars and Stripes are over our beloved Capitol,” one woman cried. “O, the horrible wretches! I can’t think of a name dreadful enough to call them! It makes me fifty times more Southern in my feelings.”
“My sons gave their lives for this city,” one woman whimpered piteously. “And now it’s all gone. I lost my three boys for nothing…”
Carrie’s heart ached as she looked into the woman’s wooden, shell-shocked face.
“That horrible Yankee officer has dared to take office in our Capitol,” another said bitterly. “What is to become of us?”
“My house has burned. It was a pitiful excuse of a house, but it was all me and my five children had,” another said, pain and bitterness mixing in her voice. “My husband is dead and we have nothing. What are we to do now?”
Suddenly Carrie couldn’t stand to hear a word more. She understood the pain, but she certainly had no answers, and she didn’t think her heart could stand even one more story of pain and loss.
She stood restlessly and gazed around, her attention drawn to a group of wagons parked over to the side. Her curiosity grew when she saw a cluster of doctors and nurses standing close by, obviously arguing as they shook their heads at each other. “What is going on?” she asked as she drew near.
“Can you believe it, Mrs. Borden?” one of the nurses asked, her eyes flashing with anger. “Those soldiers dared to bring wagons full of wounded black men. They seem to think we should care for them! Imagine the audacity.”
Carrie didn’t bother to mention the hospital was now under Union control and would probably soon be full of wounded Union soldiers; both black and white.
She moved toward a doctor from another ward. “Are we going to help them?” she asked quietly.
“Certainly not!” he said indignantly. “They have taken our city!”
Carrie looked out over the swarms of blue uniforms carrying water to fight the fires set by their own citizens, but decided now was not the time to point out the obvious. As she looked up and caught Dr. Wild’s eyes she felt a flash of hope. They began to move toward the wagons in unison, ignoring the angry muttering that came from behind them.
Carrie’s heart melted with pity as she stared down into the first wagon full of wounded black soldiers. It was obvious by the glaze of fever in their eyes that the wounds were old and had become infected. Their dusty skin was damp with sweat as they gazed up in mute appeal – their eyes shifting away when they realized she was white.
She reached out a hand immediately and grasped the nearest one she could reach. “We’ll get you help,” she promised. His eyes widened with surprise and then softened with gratitude. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispered. Then he nodded toward the wagon at the front of the line. “Them boys up there need help more than us. That’s why they be at the front.”
Carrie nodded, squeezed his hand, and then moved with Dr. Wild to the first wagon. When she looked in, her heart stood still and her shocked voice burst forth in a whisper.
“Moses!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dr. Wild looked up sharply. “You know this man?”
Carrie nodded. Tears blurred her vision, but her first look had told her how close to death Moses was. “He’s one of my best friends,” she managed in a choked voice. “He saved me when I escaped from the plantation and came to Richmond.” She took a deep breath and brushed the tears from her face. “We’ve got to save him.”
“Carrie…”
“No,” Carrie cried fiercely. “Do not say it. Do not say he cannot be saved. We have to try. We have to try!” She reached down and grabbed Moses’ limp hand, shuddering at the burning dryness of his skin.
Dr. Wild gazed into her eyes and then just nodded. He turned to the driver of the wagon. “Get this wagon up the hill to Chimborazo immediately,” he snapped. He quickly gave him directions for how to get around the fires, calling out to the other drivers to follow him.
Then he turned to the rest of the medical personnel milling around while they glared at he and Carrie angrily. “Whether we like it or not, Richmond is now under Federal control and our hospital will soon be full of Union soldiers. We are going up to do what we do – care for sick people. You can join us or not. If we have to, Mrs. Borden and I will care for every one of them.” He allowed his gaze to sweep across their faces. “If you care to join us, we will welcome your help.” Then he swung onto the seat of the second wagon.
As Carrie moved to join the driver on the seat of Moses’ wagon, a kind-faced Union officer with tired eyes stepped up to her.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully.
“You’re welcome,” she said gently. “Are these your soldiers?”
“Some of them. My name is Captain Jones.”
Carrie gasped. “You’re Moses commanding officer! He told me about you!”
Captain Jones gaped at her. “You know Moses? How is that possible? How could he have told you about me?”
Carrie just smiled and reached down to press his hand.
“Let’s just say I wasn’t ready for you to take my horse.”
Captain Jones’ eyes widened with disbelief. “Carrie Cromwell? The woman who escaped on that glorious Thoroughbred I wanted more than anything by jumping a fence I would have been afraid to attempt?”
Carrie smiled again, her suspicions she would like the young officer if they ever met confirmed. “It’s Carrie Borden now, but we’ll exchange stories later,” she said, fear striking deep into her heart as she looked back into the wagon. “I’m taking Moses to Chimborazo; along with all these men. We’ll do the best we can.”
“Moses saved my life, Mrs. Borden. Please save his.” Captain Jones beseeched her and then stepped back.
Sparks and ash flew around them as they navigated the smoky roads. As they rounded the corner to head up the hill to the hospital a building collapsed behind them as another burst into flame.
“Run!” Carrie yelled, grabbing on to the wagon seat sides as the horses broke into a gallop; the wagons behind them following their example.
Dr. Wild jumped out and motioned her over as soon as they reached the hospital. “Give me a few minutes to move the soldiers in our ward over to another ward.”
Just then Janie hurried over. “What in the world is going on?” she asked.
Carrie squeezed her hand. “I’ll explain later. Is there room in your ward for thirty-five more men?”
Janie nodded. “There is since so many of them left this morning when they knew the city was being taken.”
“Call all your orderlies that are not down fighting the fires to move the men,” she said quickly, motioning for her own orderlies to begin to do the same thing.
The fact that Janie did what she asked without a question added just one more reason why Carrie loved her so much. It took just twenty minutes to move all the men. No one answered their questions, because no one had the answer. Carrie and Dr. Wild had already decided to not broadcast what they were doing. There was no telling what would happen if the rest of their soldiers knew one of the wards was full of black Union soldiers.
As soon as the ward was empty, Dr. Wild called the orderlies inside. While he gave them stern instructions on secrecy, Carrie hurried back outside to the wagons. She reached down and took Moses’ slack hands, groaning as she saw the gray pallor of his face and skin. “What happened?” she asked one of the soldiers who was conscious.
“Moses done caught a cannon shell right in the chest,” he said hoarsely, his own eyes glistening with pain. “I reckon it would have kilt any other man, but our Moses ain’t like no one else.”
“He is your commanding officer?” Carrie asked.
“Yes’sum. The real officers all be white, but Captain Jones done put Moses in charge of all of us.”
Carrie nodded. “When did his injury happen?”
“Back at Fort Stedman, ma’am. Back on what I think be the twenty-fifth.”
Carrie controlled her groan as she realized he’d been shot eight days before.
“You be knowin’, Moses?”
Carrie smiled softly. “He’s one of my dearest friends.”
The man whistled. “I bet that’s a story, sho nuff!”
Carrie managed a smile as memories of her strong, vibrant friend filled her mind – followed closely by images of Roses’ grief if her husband died. “Just be sure I’ll do everything I can to save him.”
The first orderlies streamed out of the building and moved toward the wagons. “Take this man first,” Carrie called sharply, holding on to Moses’ hand as they carried him into the building.
As soon as he was on the bed, Carrie pulled aside his shirt and peeled back the bandage on his chest. She made no effort to control the groan this time as tears filled her eyes. Angry, swollen skin surrounded the gaping five inch hole that was still in his chest. A spider web of angry infection spread in every direction. A weaker man would already be dead. Despair swamped her.
“Let’s get him into surgery!”
Carrie looked into Dr. Wild’s eyes. “Is there any chance?” she whispered.
“He’s not dead yet,” he replied firmly. “As long as he is breathing, there is hope.” He grabbed Carrie’s hand. “We’ve saved lots of men who should have died. Now is not the time to lose hope.”
Carrie stared into his eyes, gaining strength from his shining eyes. “You’re right,” she whispered. Her voice was stronger when she straightened. “We’re going to save Moses.”
Carrie stood ready as Dr. Wild examined the wound carefully. “They did a good job on this,” he said finally, “so that tells me there must be a shell fragment they left behind that is causing all the infection. Now all I have to do is find it.”
Carrie could only be grateful Moses was unconscious as Dr. Wild probed around in the red, raw flesh. They had run out of morphine long ago.
Sweat dripped from his face, but after long minutes he held up the jagged shell fragment he had been searching for. He glanced down at Moses’. “As long as he’s still unconscious, I’m going to make sure I got it all.”
Carrie winced and gritted her teeth as he went back to digging. Holding Moses’ hand was all she could think to do, hoping beyond hope that he had no awareness of her presence, but also praying her love would somehow penetrate the darkness.
After long minutes, Dr. Wild straightened. “I got it all,” he announced, and then looked at her sharply. “I’ve got other patients to treat. Can you finish with Moses.”
Carrie nodded firmly. “I’ll take care of him, and then I’ll be out to help you.” She reached over for the basket of onions sitting on the shelves; grateful a new crop had been harvested the week before. She quickly crushed two small onions, and then tenderly applied the poultice to the gaping wound, knowing the juice from the onion would draw the infection out.
When it was completely covered, she called for two orderlies. “Carry him to his bed,” she ordered. “I will wash off the onion in an hour and then wrap the wound. Be sure to drip as much water in his mouth as you can.”
They said nothing, though the stoic looks on their faces said they were not pleased with their new assignment. Normally Carrie would have assigned them to wash the wound for her, but she was taking no chances that Moses wouldn’t get the best care he could get. When Moses was settled in his bed; a light covering over the wound, and a blanket laid over him to protect him from further shock, she wiped a hand over her exhausted face and turned to the other patients filling her ward, thrilled to find a few of the other doctors and nurses had changed their minds and joined her and Dr. Wild in their efforts.
It was going to be a long day…
Matthew and Peter fought side-by-side to control the flames threatening to devour the city. The fierce updraft of the blaze blew flaming brands across the city to drop on roofs many blocks away. Both men stood at the front of a water bucket brigade, heaving the buckets up to men standing on porches and roofs, dousing flames with both water and wet blankets.
“It’s coming down!” Matthew heard someone yell, then saw a cluster of men break apart as they ran from the collapsing building a half block away. The fire continued unchecked as it raced to the next building.
“Help! Help!”
Matthew heard the screams for help over the roar of the flames. He searched the houses a few doors down with blurry eyes until he saw a servant standing on the porch frantically calling for help. He watched as a soldier moved up to talk to her, then beckoned to General Weitzel who conferred with a young lady who appeared on the porch for a few minutes.
“That’s General Lee’s house!”
“What?” Matthew asked sharply.
The young boy handing him the bucket nodded earnestly. “That’s where General Lee’s wife lives.”
“Why is she still there?”
“She’s too sick to leave,” he explained. “She’s in a wheelchair. I heard General Lee tried to get her to leave but she insisted on staying.”
General Weitzel stood on the top of the porch and call
ed to everyone who was close enough to hear. “Keep this house from burning!” he hollered, and then stomped down the stairs to confer with Major Ripley. Minutes later an ambulance appeared and took position at the bottom of the steps. If Mrs. Lee had to evacuate, she was going to have a way to do it.
Matthew nodded with satisfaction. The war had wrecked their country, but there was still compassion, and still respect for the man who had evaded the Union forces for so long. He paused long enough to appreciate the swell of hope that sprang into his chest, and then turned back to swinging buckets of water.
He understood when the firefighting efforts became purely defensive. The only way to stem the flames was to tear down threatened buildings; creating a firebreak before the flames devoured more buildings. Slowly, slowly, the battle was being won as they fought to contain the fire.
“She’s under control!” someone finally yelled. “Everyone take a break.”
It was almost two o’clock before Matthew and Peter were able to step back and use the next bucket of water to pour over their heads and wash their hands.
Peter looked at him through gritty, raw eyes. “Well, this is certainly one way to get a story,” he said ruefully.
Matthew nodded, grateful for the cool water pouring over his face and soaking his shirt. “Let’s get the rest of this story,” he said grimly as he moved toward the wreckage blocking the streets. He glanced up the road in the direction of Carrie’s house, but knew he had to do his job first. At least he was certain Carrie’s house was safe.
Carrie was exhausted to the bone when the last of the black soldiers was treated about six o’clock that evening. They had lost two of them, but the outcome looked good for the rest. The word had spread rapidly through the ward that she was Moses’ friend. The men treated her like she was an angel. Carrie was both flattered and embarrassed, but mostly thankful for the trust they gave her because of Moses.
“Miss Carrie,” a young man murmured.