Tear In Time

by Petersen, Christopher David

  David continued to chuckle to himself as he sat back from the fire. Shaking his head, he said, “A preacher. Why am I not surprised?” Thinking about ole Handy Nelson once more, he asked, “So where is he now? Is he dead? Is he alive? Is he still a drunk or did he run out of digits, hence forcing sobriety?”

  “Funny thing happened to ole Handy. It seems his association with the preacher wasn’t all bad. He ended up finding the Lord and becoming a preacher himself, somewhere out in California. I hear the grapes make wonderful holy wine out there,” Dr. Morgan said with a hint a sarcasm, then added, “I suppose as long as ole Handy can preach a good sermon, he may drink his fill of the holy wine.”

  “Unbelievable. After losing most of his digits, he finally finds a job that actually PAYS him to drink. Man, you can’t make that stuff up,” David said, shaking his head.

  “Why would you think I’m making this up?” Dr. Morgan asked, unfamiliar with the usage of David’s statement.

  “Sorry, doc, it’s just a figure of speech. I’m just amazed at the irony of it,” David replied, apologetic.

  “Quite alright, lad, quite alright. I have to agree. Very ironic,” Dr. Morgan concurred.

  They both sat in quite for a moment and thought about the strange story. The heat of the fire warmed their faces and hands as their minds wandered. Finally, Dr. Morgan spoke in a serious tone.

  “David, something has been on my mind for some time now. I’m curious: have you given any thought of what your effect on the future and history might be? We are not men of status, but we are of influence due to our occupation as surgeons. My presence here is accountable, but your presence, unfortunately, is not, and therefore anything you do could chain react a sequence of events that might impact the future,” Dr. Morgan said, trying to be as delicate as possible.

  “My presence here has weighed heavy on my mind for some time now, doc. Unfortunately, the reality of my situation is that I am indeed changing the future. Every life I save might be a life unaccounted for that will impact generations to come. The effects could be as dramatic as they are devastating. Unless I step in front of a speeding train and end my life now, we must accept this change. I don’t know about you, but suicide is not in my genetic makeup, so my only recourse is to tread lightly and be conscious of everything I do,” David answered, trying to be equally as delicate.

  Both men stared in consideration of the other from across the fire. Their exchange, while short, was deep with profound implications. By the glow of the fire, both continued to ponder David’s presence and reconcile within themselves a course befitting of their conscience.

  David watched Dr. Morgan’s face transition from one emotion to the next while in search of answers. He analyzed the old doctor’s expressions and could tell he was engaged in the same activity as himself. A smile spread across his face as he realized the old doctor and he were on the same wavelength, as their facial expressions occurred nearly in parallel.

  “Penny for your thoughts, doc,” David said,

  “I do not believe they are worth that much, David,” Dr. Morgan replied in modesty.

  “Doc, I can tell you are struggling with this topic as much as I am. I feel a bit embarrassed that I’ve drawn you into such a moral and ethical dilemma. If your conscience is challenged, I’d understand completely if you’d want to remove yourself from the problem,” David said sincerely.

  “Nonsense, David. I could not live with myself if I turned my back on my fellow man. Life is filled with challenges that we must overcome. I do not welcome battles, but my conscience will not abide shirking them once engaged,” Dr. Morgan stated with conviction.

  “Thanks, doc,” David replied simply, then continued, “I’ve been thinking about this from a variety of standpoints. With every solution I come up with, I’m faced with the same moral dilemma: I just can’t sit back and watch a man die, knowing I have the skills to keep him alive. When I see a soldier suffering, or any man suffering for that matter, I am compelled by my conscience to help him. I just can’t detach myself from this because I am a threat to established history,” David stated.

  “I agree, David,” Dr. Morgan said to David’s surprise and relief. “You didn’t ask for this. This was thrust upon you. You must maintain your morals, your character, in spite of the impact to mankind. Mankind has existed for thousands of years and will survive for thousands more, not because of what we do here today, but regardless of what we do here today,” Dr. Morgan said. “The fact is we really don’t know if the history you have reported hasn’t been set by a prior visit already.”

  David thought about Dr. Morgan’s ending statement. He repeated it over and over as he tried to make sense of it, “Prior visit already?… visit already?… Doc, I’m not sure I’m following,” David replied.

  “Lad, how do we know that this is the first time you visited this time period? Obviously, the optimum arrangement would be for you to return at the precise moment you left, but what if you couldn’t make it back? What if this is a cycle that’s been repeating itself over and over, with you being born, travelling back in time to meet me, we live our lives forward, we die: you are born again in the future only to travel back in time to meet me again, so repeating the endless cycle over and over. This could be the hundredth time the cycle has been repeated, with you impacting the same events over and over,” Dr. Morgan theorized.

  “Wow, I never thought about that, doc,” David said as he thought about the old doctor’s theory. Just then, he thought of something. “Doc, here’s an interesting question. That statement assumes I don’t return back at all, but what would happen if I returned prior to the point that I travel back in time from? I could actually tell myself not to go back in time and break the cycle,” David said, with a slight smile.

  “Hmm, I suppose you could,” Dr. Morgan replied. He thought about the problem a moment, then continued. “But that is assuming that the laws of time allow for you to exist in multiple forms at the same time and at the same location.”

  “I see your point – doesn’t seem likely. So what you are theorizing is that time won’t allow you to be copied,” David said simply.

  “I’m not sure if it’s a matter of being copied. I just think the laws of nature will prevent such an event from existing,” Dr. Morgan continued. “I don’t believe a time traveler can visit himself. I think if you did, you would instantly vanish while your indigenous self would continue to exist. Now that I’m really thinking about it, I think you’re going to have to return after the time you left. It sounds like that is the only safe time to go back, although I suppose you could possibly return at an early enough date that would allow you to die before you were born, but that seems too complicated too.”

  “So what you’re saying is I can’t reappear in a time when I’m already existing, otherwise I, the time traveler, will vanish… Wow, that is one HELL of a theory, doc,” David said in admiration. “If it’s true, that really complicates my return dramatically. It looks like returning after the point that I left really is the only way. But how am I going to tell if I’m returning beyond the point that I left? Even if I arrive just a split second before I left, I will disappear.”

  “I don’t think you’ll entirely disappear though, David. Your indigenous self would continue on completely unaware of the anomaly,” Dr. Morgan added.

  “Yes, but if my indigenous self travels back to this time period, the cycle would repeat itself over and over as you theorized. Man, that is really freaky,” David replied, now a bit frightened of his return.

  “We’re going to have to get it right the first time to break the cycle, otherwise this will occur over and over, with us making the same choices, because no one will be there to instruct us otherwise,” Dr. Morgan said.

  “Boy, you want to talk about pressure?” David replied sarcastically.

  “Have faith, lad. I’m confident we’ll see the clear choices at the appropriate times,” Dr. Morgan assured as he passed the jar of moonshine to David.


  Accepting the jar, David said, “Cheers.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Dr. Morgan replied, then added quietly, “Pun intended.”

  TT: Chapter 6

  Aug 9th, 1862

  Off in the distance, a distinct gallop could be heard. As the horse drew near, Dr. Morgan looked over to David with a knowing smile. David scratched his beard, which had grown unchecked since his arrival, and squinted up ahead at the horseman that rode toward them with determination. David looked over to Dr. Morgan and nodded in quiet recognition of the approaching rider.

  Through his long white beard, Dr. Morgan's smile quickly vanished, as he diverted his attention back to Gen. Negley, who rode his horse at an alarming speed.

  “Dr. Morgan, what is it? Is something wrong?” David asked, seeing the old doctor stiffen his posture a bit.

  Still staring straight ahead, he replied, “Something’s wrong. Jim never pushes his horse that hard.”

  Dr. Morgan was not a man easily rattled, and this sudden display sent fear and apprehension through David's body.

  “Doc, what is it? Are we in danger?” David asked anxiously.

  “I don't know, lad. Jim rarely drives his horse at such great speeds unless there is unexpected work to be done,” Dr. Morgan replied, looking around, observing his field of vision with great intensity.

  David joined him in search, then replied, “What are we looking for, doc?”

  “Johnny Reb, lad: the enemy,” Dr. Morgan answered stoutly.

  David swallowed hard. He remembered the intense fear he felt two months prior, when he first arrived. Now his body began to shake as he glued his eyes to the general, who was closing fast. Just feet from their position, the general pulled hard on the reins of his horse and leaned far back in the saddle to overcome the force of his forward momentum. Snapping the reins to his left, he quickly spun his horse around and matched the speed of the marching column of troops and supplies, riding slightly head of David and Dr. Morgan.

  “Doctors, we are about to engage the enemy. General Banks has his men in position, and is waiting on my deployment. Find a suitable location of infirmary behind us. I believe I took notice of a farmhouse a mile back or so. His doctors will be joining you shortly,” Brigadier General Negley ordered, his tone implying the seriousness of the situation.

  With a quick nod between the two old friends, Gen. Negley and Dr. Morgan snapped the reins to their horses and parted in opposite directions. David snapped the reins to his horse as well, trying to suppress his overwhelming fear of impending death. As he galloped up beside Dr. Morgan, his legs began to shake, and he instinctively pressed them against his horse, subconsciously feeling the need for the comfort of a living touch.

  “David, we've joined with another brigade, and I'm anticipating a great deal of wounded. I'm afraid we are at a great disadvantage by the tone and urgency of Gen. Negley’s voice,” Dr. Morgan yelled over the sound of their horses galloping.

  “Are we in danger, doc?” David asked, his mind racing with fear.

  “Only if we are overrun by the enemy, lad. Keep your wits about you and try to remember what I taught you about discharging your weapons, both long rifle and sidearm,” Dr. Morgan instructed.

  “Controlled and deliberate, I remember. Do you think we’ll see any action?” David asked as he reached down and touched his Government Issue 1860 Colt revolver, holstered to his hip. It had belonged to the same lieutenant who had owned David’s uniform before him.

  “I doubt we’ll be in any real danger, but we are about to see more action then a man can imagine. If I read the general correctly, we’ll be inundated with casualties for a couple of days, I’m afraid, and with little time to prepare I fear we won’t be able to administer proper treatment,” Dr. Morgan said as he scanned the road in front of him.

  “What do you mean by proper treatment?” David asked.

  “Without time to find wood for fires and without our resupply of medical provisions, including alcohol and bandages, we’ll be forced to operate in unsanitary conditions,” Dr. Morgan shouted over the gallop.

  David nodded to the old doctor in understanding as they galloped along the side of the road, avoiding the column of troops heading into battle. David searched their faces as he rode. The seasoned soldiers understood the sight of doctors on horseback hurriedly riding against a column. The signal of an impending battle spread an eerie calm amongst the troops as they internalized their prospect of death. As the two rode to the back of the column, Dr. Morgan ordered a detachment assigned to his care to follow him in preparation of the impending battle. All too soon, the safety of the larger force was no longer in sight.

  A short time later, just as the general had stated, the tiny column came upon the abandoned farmhouse. As Dr. Morgan gave orders in preparation for operating, they stood momentarily still in their tracks as they heard the sound of cannon fire sounding the start of the Battle of Cedar Mountain, Virginia. Far behind the front lines, as General Negley engaged in battle, Dr. Morgan engaged in a battle of his own as he frantically staged the area for the wounded.

  Nearly five minutes after the first sound of cannon fire, standing outside the farmhouse, David looked over his shoulder to the sound of fast moving horses. Moments later, two Union officers rode up, their own small column of men in trail. By the insignia on their hats, David could see right away that these were the surgeons of Gen. Banks’ regiment, and of lower rank than he. With a quick salute to David, the two second lieutenants asked for Dr. Morgan. David pointed to the farmhouse, whereupon the two officers immediately ran inside.

  Standing alone in front of the farmhouse, staring off into the distance as he watched the smoke from the battle rising high above the treetops, David felt the hopelessness and isolation of his displaced life. The future that held such dreams of promise was now a vision of surreal hardship and anxiety. With each report of the deafening artillery, the memory of 2005 abruptly slipped further away.

  The sound of horse and wagon snapped David out of his saddened state, as the privates began delivering the much-needed wood to begin the sterilization of medical equipment. In the short time since their arrival, the hard-working soldiers had foraged for and found an abundance of dry wood just beyond the tree line.

  “Sir, where do you want the fire?” Pvt. Dawson asked, occasionally flinching at the sound of the distance explosions.

  “Over there, near the front porch. We need a good sized fire,” David instructed. “Could you do me a favor?” David asked rhetorically. “It would be a big help to me if you could keep a pot of water boiling for the next couple of days. Do you think you can do that for me while I’m operating?”

  “Yes sir,” Pvt. Dawson answered, looking strangely at his fellow soldiers.

  David read the responses on the faces of the other privates. For a moment he felt embarrassed by them, as if he were the butt of their private joke, but then he realized that their facial expressions were more of surprise and gratitude than condescension. He hadn’t thought of it before, but he was now an officer and would be counted on to lead. It dawned on him that officers give orders and he had made a request. That simple exchange was regarded as unusual and considerate treatment, and instantly gained him the loyalty of the soldiers beneath him. As he walked toward the farmhouse, he etched the lesson into his memory as a model for future command.

  --- --- --- --- ---

  Gen. Negley stood in his stirrups and squinted through his field glasses at the approaching enemy. Watching from an elevated bluff, he had a good command of the battlefield. Rectangular in layout, the Union soldiers occupied the tree line to the east. Far on the western edge, the Confederates began their march from Cedar Mountain as they headed east to engage their foe. To the north and south, a meandering line of trees formed the upper and lower boundaries of the field.

  Bringing his attention closer to the foreground, the general focused on his troops as they marched shoulder to shoulder across the field. He watched with satisfaction as his men
bravely marched into the onslaught of whistling lead that sailed all around them. They discharged their weapons, reloaded with black powder and mini-ball, then discharged them again, always moving forward, always in disregard for their mortality.

  Looking still closer, he could see many wounded soldiers as they lay in agony, left behind as their marching comrades forged ahead. Too far away to be heard over the roar of battle, he could see anguish contort their faces as they writhed in torment from their ghastly wounds. His deepest sympathy could be seen as he swallowed hard to suppress the knot in his throat. With small relief, he watched as stretcher bearers placed their lives in the line of fire for the sake of their fallen brothers, as they began to extract the wounded from the battlefield.

  Subconsciously, Gen. Negley began to feel the tug of guilt and shame as he viewed his men fighting for their lives while he watched from the safety of the tree line. Understanding his importance as the commanding officer, he fought to resist any impulse to ride down and join them in battle, an action reserved only for the gravest of strife and struggle.