“No, sir, all is clear,” David replied.
“Very well. I will brief you in detail prior to the battle. Have the men ready to move upon request,” Gen. Grant instructed.
“Yes sir,” David replied.
“Ok, now that we have dispensed with formality, Gen. Negley has informed me that I might be able to requisition a fine cigar and some medicinal whiskey. I hope he was not mistaken,” Gen. Grant asked.
“Certainly, sir, I just happen to have been resupplied just recently. Would you care to recline by the fire?” Dr. Morgan responded.
“A fine suggestion, doctor,” Gen. Grant said.
As Gen. Grant’s officers reconnoitered the area, the general, Dr. Morgan and David sat by the roaring fire and enjoyed a moment of relaxation. David listened to the General and Dr. Morgan recall memories of triumph and tragedy while employed by the military: stories that included battles, Indians, commanders and women. As the evening rolled in, Gen. Grant enjoyed a stew prepared with fresh rabbit and biscuits, then more cigars and whiskey, until the night hours produced a bitter cold that even the roaring fire had trouble overcoming. Too late to travel by night in enemy territory, Gen. Grant and his officers spent the evening. At daybreak, the general ate some breakfast of salt pork, hardtack crackers and coffee.
As the officers finished their breakfast, a call to Gen. Grant came from the area near the operating gurneys.
“Sir, if you could oblige me, would you care to have your photograph taken?” asked a skinny, disheveled-looking young man.
Gen. Grant turned to the officers seated around the fire and said, “Damn photographers. I can't crap without a camera strapped between my legs filming my backside.”
With a chuckle from the men, he got up and posed near the operating gurneys. With several pictures taken, the skinny photographer asked to photograph all the officers seated near the fire. Immediately, they stood and posed for the camera.
As the photographer finished and was about to pack up his equipment, he spotted David’s applets. With a general's star on each and a medical insignia pinned to his hat, curiosity got the better of the photographer.
“Sir, I noticed you are a Brigadier General. I also noticed the medical insignia in your hat. Is this a mistake?” asked the photographer of David, trying to be delicate about his question.
“Not at all, lad. It's just rare. Actually, the truth is I've never heard of any doctor becoming a Brigadier General either. I could be mistaken, but I believe David is the first,” Dr. Morgan cut in proudly.
“The first? Well, General Warner, would I be able to photograph you?” the skinny man asked.
As David stood by the gurneys, the photographer pressed further. Calling to the other doctors, he asked, “Doctors, could you stand beside Gen. Warner? It might help to authenticate the photograph.”
Feeling a bit insulted, one doctor replied, “Ain’t we good enough to stand as equals? We got to stand in as tools?”
“Oh, I am sorry for that implication, sir; of course not. You should all be in the photograph,” the skinny man replied, hoping his mistake would be let go.
With a slight grunt, the angered doctor moved near David. As he did, others followed, all except Dr. Morgan.
“Sir, could you stand with the rest also?” asked the photographer. “And could you all stand by the wagon with that wounded man being attended to? I believe it creates a great accounting of your skills,” he asked, pointing to the medical wagon a short distance away.
Earlier in the day, just after breakfast, David had received urgent word that his patient had turned for the worst. The young private had been wounded in the lower leg at Gettysburg, and David had worked to stay ahead of the infection since then. Unfortunately, David’s efforts were not enough. After several months of treatment and just before Gen. Grant arrived, David performed an emergency amputation on the young private’s lower leg. As he rested in the back of the medical wagon, Gen. Grant had arrived for inspection.
As the officers walked toward the patient, David looked around and sensed something familiar. He looked at the open clearing, the gurneys, and the aspen forest. David suddenly had the feeling of déjà vu.
As the men lined up by the supply wagon on the other side of the gurneys, Dr. Morgan sat in a chair off to one side. Instantly, a chill ran down David's spine. He suddenly realized that the photo he brought with him was not of the clearing near the time portal, but it was in fact of the very clearing he was now standing in. David looked around again. The similarity between the clearing at the portal and this new location were startling. He shook his head in disbelief. This was going to be the same photograph he found in the elevator before his arrival to this time, the same photograph he'd been carrying around for the past year in his haversack, the same photograph of the same men. That is, all the same except for one detail – David was now going to be in it. Once again, he was changing the future.
As quickly as the men lined up, the photographer was done. David was now recorded back in time.
Shortly thereafter, Gen. Grant announced his need to depart. He thanked David and Dr. Morgan for their hospitality, mounted his horse and rode off with his men.
As Dr. Morgan and David watched them ride on out, David kept the photograph to himself, remarking only about Gen. Grant’s personality.
“Interesting man, that Ulysses Grant is. Not as uptight as everyone portrays him to be,” David said.
“In moments of peace, he's a warm, entertaining man, but when the action starts he transforms into someone else: cold, calculating and unpleasant,” Dr. Morgan replied. “Let's hope he doesn't have to call in any reserves. It would be a shame to tarnish your impression of him before you leave.”
“Let's hope he doesn't call me in, period. It would really suck if I got shot again before I left,” David responded.
“Impeccable logic, Lad,” Dr. Morgan replied.
Nov. 23 1863
The day broke clear and bright. The cold night’s temperatures carried into the early morning, creating a lethargy that spread through the valley like a plague, affecting all living things, resulting in a slow, lazy start to an otherwise beautiful day.
Sitting by their cannons, rebel soldiers shivered in nervous anticipation for the battle to begin. Days before, Confederate command received intelligence that Gen. Grant had arrived and was maneuvering for an attack. With each passing day, their anticipation mounted as they sat as defenders, waiting for the enemy to begin their assault.
Gen. Grant woke early and studied his battle plans once more. As the day’s weather proved favorable, the decision was made to proceed ahead of schedule. Sending orders to prepare for battle, the sluggish soldiers struggled through their morning fatigue as they were maneuvered into position.
The Confederates’ wait was over. With the roar of cannon fire, the Union army opened the battle with a volley onto Signal Mountain, high above Chattanooga - the Battle of Chattanooga had begun.
--- --- --- --- ---
David heard the loud roar of cannon fire and noted the time: 10:33am. He turned toward Dr. Morgan and nodded. If all went well, David would soon be back in his time, enjoying the luxuries of the 21st Century.
Off in the distance, David listened to the exchange of cannon and artillery fire. It echoed throughout the valley, sending animals and birds running for shelter. As the stiff November breeze flowed through the valley floor, it carried the odor of discharged black powder. David found the smell offensive, and tried to cover his nose and mouth with a rag, but quickly realized the futility of his action and stowed the small piece of linen in his pocket.
He walked over to the operating tables and inspected them once more, ensuring their readiness. Dr. Morgan stepped over to him and said, “It won't be long now, lad. By the sound of that cannonade, I'd say both sides are taking quite a pounding.”
“I know. Every little sound I hear, I think it's an ambulance coming up the trail,” David replied as he looked around once more.
“Poor lads. It's got to be rough on them,” Dr. Morgan replied thoughtfully.
“Man, I'm glad I'm not a part of that suicidal attack. I mean, let’s face it. A full frontal assault uphill, against a well entrenched enemy would not be my first choice of attack,” David said.
“What would you suggest?” Dr. Morgan asked with genuine curiosity.
“Attack the town and starve out the men on the hilltop. It's pretty simple, really,” David responded. “The fact is, we outnumber them, so taking the city wouldn't be too hard. The loss of life wouldn't be nearly as great as Grant's frontal assault, and once you take the town, you hold the prisoners inside the city. After their friends on the hilltop hear that their buddies are being held inside, they wouldn't think of firing on the town. At that point, you just surround the hilltop and prevent supplies from getting to them. It might take a little longer, but it would save thousands of lives.”
“Sounds reasonable. Did you inform Gen. Grant of this idea?” Dr. Morgan asked.
“I was about to, but witnessed a terrific berating Grant gave to one of his generals for suggesting a simple change to his plan. After that, I just kept my mouth shut,” David said.
“Hmm, I've heard that about him. In the heat of battle, he is not a man to cross,” Dr. Morgan related.
“It's funny how he can change his personality so dramatically.” David added, “One minute he's sitting around a fire, laughing, sipping whiskey and smoking cigars; the next he’s tearing you a new one.”
“Pardon my ignorance, David, but what is a new one?” Dr. Morgan asked.
“Sorry. A new asshole,” David responded.
Dr. Morgan smiled for a moment, then laughed out loud. David, hearing his old friend’s contagious laughter, joined in and laughed also. Their laughter was cut short as they heard the sound of horses approaching their camp. Both men knew the sound and reacted instantly.
“All men to your stations. Here come the wounded,” David shouted above the sound of the battle.
As the two ambulances rolled in, all men raced to their stations and prepared to treat the wounded. Cries of pain echoed off the trees as the wounded soldiers were pulled roughly into camp. In minutes, the men's wounds were assessed, vitals taken, and were treated in the order of least significance.
Barely treating two patients, two more ambulances arrived, instantly overwhelming the medical staff. Working quickly, David and Dr. Morgan were able to work as a team to treat the excess in a matter of minutes. As the roar of the battle continued, so did the ambulances. Nearly every fifteen minutes now, new arrivals were detected by their awful screams of agony as the ambulance drivers hurried the men through the forest of aspens and into camp.
As the hours passed, both David and Dr. Morgan kept an eye on the influx of wounded that were being treated. Looking for an opportunity to leave, David found one in early afternoon, as a lull in the action marked a good time to attempt a cross of enemy lines.
David finished up his patient and waved Dr. Morgan away from the men.
“Doc, I'm thinking this would be a good time for me to try to get to that portal. Both sides are taking a breather. I’m sure if I make a wide loop around the mountain I should be able to cross undetected,” David said.
Dr. Morgan looked at David disapprovingly and responded, “Son, this is a very bad idea. I must tell you truthfully: I believe it to be foolhardy, and I fear your chance of success to be slim at best. Please reconsider.”
David could see the anguish in his old friend’s face and struggled to find some words of comfort. “Doc, I'll be alright. I'm not going anywhere near the enemy’s lines, and even further away from their scouts on the back side of the mountain. You know I must go. There is just no other way to return home,” David said in pleading tone.
Dr. Morgan searched David's face for a sign of weakness. There was none. David was determined and he knew there would be no turning him now. In saddened acceptance, he replied, “Son, please be careful. I wish you the greatest of luck.” Dr. Morgan then extended his hand.
David shook the old doctor's hand and pulled him close to hug him. As they both stepped back, David replied, “Thank you for all your help. If it wasn't for you, I'd never have gotten this far.”
Dr. Morgan nodded in recognition, then showed David to his horse.
“Make sure your sidearm is loaded as well as your rifle. When you can, walk. Keep your steed between you and the mountain. They will shoot the horse before they shoot you: and don't forget to use the creeks to mask the sound of the horse’s hooves,” Dr. Morgan rattled off in succession.
“I'll remember,” David replied simply as he stepped up into the saddle.
For a moment they stared at each other in silence, searching for the right words to say. Finally, David spoke, “I keep wanting to say to you, 'keep in touch', but I know that's impossible.” He swallowed hard and continued, “I feel the sadness of a lifetime of lost friendship. What do you say to the man that saved your life and helped you find your way? Doc, you've given me more in one year than thirty years could not. You've taught me duty, honor and loyalty: qualities I took for granted, qualities that gave depth and passion to my life. I came here to this time scared and without true direction. I'm returning with courage and purpose. The greatest teacher of my life has been you. The greatest friend of my life has been you. I don't know what to say except thank you, and I'll never forget you.”
Dr. Morgan dabbed his tears with an old dirty cloth. He tried to say something in response as he held back his emotions. Finally, he was able to force out a simple reply, “Godspeed to you, son. You're in my prayers.”
David wiped away his own tears, then nodded goodbye. He prodded his horse with his heels and rode off. Dr. Morgan stood and watched him ride out until he was out of sight.
Under his breath, he sighed heavy and said to himself, “Lord, I need your help. Keep him safe.”
---- ---- ---- ---- ----
David rode out of camp, still reeling from his goodbye. He knew if he was going to succeed he would need to focus all his attention on his mission. Concentrating on the forest in front of him, David weaved through the trees, tugging on the reins and spurring his horse to greater speeds. As he rode from camp, he headed north, away from Signal Mountain, hoping to ride far beyond the reaches of the enemy. Nearly two miles away, David changed course and headed west on a parallel course with the mountain. Riding harder and faster now, he kept a constant watch for the enemy. With each bluff he crested, he slowed to a stop, listened, observed, and continued on.
Three hours later, David had circled around to the back side of the mountain undetected. He knew he was close to the clearing that held the time portal as he crossed a small meandering creek. He stopped for a moment to water his horse, then pressed on, hoping to make the clearing well before nightfall.
Toward the top of a small bluff, David got off his horse and walked toward the peek. As he approached the top, he noticed a single set of horse tracks where he stood. He reached into his saddlebag and brought out his field glasses, scanning the area for movement. David adjusted the lenses and continued to observe the region. Satisfied it was empty, he stowed the field glasses and rode through the next small valley.
Cresting the next bluff, David slowed to a stop and walked his horse to the top of the bluff. Again he noticed horse tracks at the top. David felt a strange sense about those tracks, and withdrew his field glasses once more. Scanning the region, he still saw no one. As he rode down into the shallow valley, he kept an eye on the now familiar tracks.
David came upon another creak and noticed the wet mud saturated by the water that ran nearby. On both sides of the creek, he noticed the same horse tracks again. David got down off his horse and touched the track. As he rubbed the surface, the track collapsed.
“Fresh,” David said to himself.
He quickly looked around, but saw no one. David wasn't fooled. If the tracks were fresh, he knew someone was close by. David moved to the right si
de of his horse and began to walk with him, using his horse as a shield. Through the bottom of the valley and back up the other side, David followed the tracks. As he neared the top of the next bluff, he walked slowly with his horse.
Peering over the top, he searched for movement. David brought out his field glasses and scanned the next region to his front. As he looked from tree to tree, rock to rock and hill to hill, he looked hard for anything out of place.
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