by Marian Wells
Beth reached for the paper and handed the youth coins. “And now it’s too dark to read.”
The conductor came in. “We will be staying here overnight. A bridge west of here is out. Across the street is a nice little hotel, just behind the depot. The train will leave at eight o’clock in the morning.”
Olivia smiled and stood up. “Beth, you’re fortunate! You’ll have all evening to read that paper under a bright lamp. Let’s go!”
After a quick meal in the hotel dining room, Olivia and Beth returned to their room. With the one lamp in the middle of the table, they bent over the newspaper.
Beth said, “It says here that President Lincoln replaced General Hooker with General Meade. That happened yesterday. Oh, dear!” she murmured. “I wonder if this had anything to do with General Hooker being replaced: the fifteenth of June a Union General named Milroy was attacked, and twenty-three hundred of his men were captured.”
Olivia winced. “How terrible for those men!”
“It says the rest retreated into Pennsylvania, and it sounds as if the Confederates are right behind them.” Beth looked thoughtfully at Olivia. “Don’t you think you’d better stay with the Coopers too?”
Olivia shook her head. “Beth, please don’t even suggest it. I have a feeling I’ll be needed more than ever. And I have agreed to return; they’ll be counting on me.”
In the morning, Olivia awakened to find Beth already dressed. Quickly tossing back the sheet, she said, “I’m sorry I overslept. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Oh, there’s no hurry. Olivia, I’ve been thinking. I’m nearly home, and surely the threat of meeting Mr. Stollen is gone. Why don’t you just return to Washington today, and I’ll continue on. Last night’s paper talked about both armies coming into Pennsylvania. If you go back the way we came, there should be no problem, but if you wait—”
Olivia finished, “I may not get through. I believe you’re right, Beth. But I don’t like leaving you.”
“And I don’t like the possibility of your being stranded,” Beth countered.
“If there’s a battle close to Washington, the hospitals will need all the help they can get,” Olivia added thoughtfully. “I’ll go with you to the depot and check on a train going east.”
At the depot, the man behind the counter looked at Beth and said, “Sorry, Miss. The bridge is still out. It seems they are uncertain when it will be repaired. I’d advise you to return to Washington if the travel isn’t critical. We’ve had communications indicating the Confederates are moving deeper into Pennsylvania. Could be all the lines will have problems soon.”
“I’m of the opinion we should return to Washington,” Olivia said. “At least we’ll be together.”
The station master nodded in agreement. “Of course we’ll be safe in the capital,” Beth replied.
The station master looked at the clock. “There’s a train returning to Washington by way of Gettysburg. It will leave in fifteen minutes. They’ve switched it, and it’s nearly ready to go. Frankly, we’ve advised travelers to return, but most will wait for repairs to the bridge. Can’t understand what the problem is. Some of the telegraph lines are down around Harrisburg, so our communication isn’t the best.”
Olivia looked at Beth and saw her nod. Olivia said, “I’d just as soon return to Washington. Let’s go.”
****
The coach in which they rode was nearly empty. Gratefully Olivia tucked her shawl over the back of the seat and settled down beside Beth, who was almost asleep. It was nearly ten o’clock when Olivia felt the train slow. She sat up and opened her eyes. Beth yawned and pointed to the small depot. “We stopped here yesterday. I wonder where the people are?” She settled herself against the hard seat and tried to retreat into sleep.
Olivia pushed her face against the soft shawl. Again she had dreamed of Alex. Desperately she tried to avoid the reality of loss. But the hard facts measured against the nebulous dream brought tears to her eyes. She touched the brooch, trailing her finger over the delicate roses.
A door slammed. As the conductor grasped the back of a seat, the train jerked forward and gathered speed as it left the station. “Ladies and gentlemen, the station master has informed me of a telegraph message, just received, indicating the Confederates are in Harrisburg.”
A passenger leaned forward. “So that’s the problem! Did they tear out the bridge?”
The conductor nodded at the man. “Also, the line below Gettysburg has been disrupted. We will proceed to Gettysburg and remain there until the problem has been corrected.”
He started to turn and the same gentleman asked, “Just what type of problem is this?”
“The Confederate army appears to have damaged the line. Also, it is rumored that they have marched east from Chambersburg toward Gettysburg. If this is the case, we will likely be caught between the Federal Army and the Confederates unless we reach Gettysburg first. The train will move at full throttle; please stay in your seats.”
The coach was silent except for an occasional subdued murmur. Olivia stayed close to the window and tried to see down the track. As they approached Gettysburg, she leaned against the window to catch a glimpse of the rolling, grassy hills around the town. In the distance she could see dark, rocky outcroppings. The train was still traveling fast. Periodically the whistle shrilled as they crossed bridges and bisected roadways.
Startled faces appeared beside the tracks. Just as Olivia began to wonder if the engineer would slow for Gettysburg, she heard three piercing blasts from the whistle. The train slowed with brakes grinding metal. Olivia shivered and rubbed her arms.
The conductor appeared, his face troubled. “Sorry, folks, but the Confederates have cut us off. I’m certain you’ll be safe, but we must stay in Gettysburg until the lines are checked.”
The train pulled into the depot. Olivia started for the door, glancing at the platform. It appeared deserted.
The conductor held out his hand. “Ma’am, we’re placing everyone in homes. Please go with that young lady over there by the cart. Hurry.”
Olivia and Beth rushed toward the cart as the girl ran to meet them. Without a word she took Beth’s valise and pointed to the cart. Olivia climbed aboard.
The girl jumped onto the seat, snapped the whip and yelled, “The Rebs are coming. We have a cellar, and that’s where we’re going.” Olivia looked at Beth’s startled face. She grasped the wagon seat as the girl used the whip again.
****
The root cellar was behind a sturdy white house. “I’m Sue,” the girl said briefly. My parents are the Northrups, and they’re in the cellar. Go on down.”
Mrs. Northrup, with two younger children, met them. Olivia looked around. Baskets of potatoes and dried corn supported lamps, while bags of wheat and beans served as chairs.
“Mrs. Northrup, Rhonda, and Mark,” Olivia murmured, smiling at the shy-eyed children. “Thank you for giving us a place to stay.”
“Sorry I can’t offer you my parlor,” Mrs. Northrup said, “but they told us to take cover. They are saying there’ll be fighting in the streets of Gettysburg. Too bad. They say General Lee has about seventy-five thousand men with him. I suppose things will be trampled.”
“Mama, I heard at the depot this morning that General Buford took his men down toward Chambersburg this morning,” Sue said. “There was a skirmish with the Confederates. But I couldn’t see or hear anything, so we may be safe.”
“Don’t count on that, daughter,” Mr. Northrup said, getting to his feet. “Mabel, I’m going to sit this out in the barn. I have my musket and plenty of ammunition, so don’t worry.”
“Pa, can I come?” Mr. Northrup tousled the boy’s hair.
“Better stay; if you go, there won’t be a man here. I’ll come back at supper time.”
Sue lifted her hand and listened. “They’re moving this way. I hear horses.” She looked at her mother and frowned.
“Now, don’t you worry,” Mabel Northrup said. “Your pa k
nows how to keep his head down.”
As they waited, the sound of cannon and rifle fire drew nearer. Conversation ceased. Olivia strained to hear until it seemed the explosions were nearly on the Northrups’ steps. There was a high-pitched yell. “Rebel yell,” Mabel said. “It’s the first I’ve heard.” The sounds retreated. “I’m of a mind to go out. Seems all the activity must have moved up the hills.”
“I’ll go with you.” Olivia jumped to her feet. “I’ve done nursing in Washington. Perhaps I can volunteer to help.” Beth followed them up the steps.
Mabel pointed south. “That’s Culp’s Hill. There’s action up yonder. You can see the soldiers from here.”
“Oh, look,” Beth murmured, pointing. “I believe they’re coming with wounded soldiers. Where will they take them?”
With dismay in her voice, Mabel said, “To every house and building in town. I think we’re all going to be nurses today. Dear Lord, help us!”
“There’s a woman in that wagon,” Beth whispered, just as the wagon wheeled through the Northrups’ gate. Olivia saw the woman’s agonized face and ran toward the wagon.
“Oh, please, please help us,” she cried. “My husband is hurt terribly.”
Olivia grasped the wagon and stared up at her. “You were with him in battle?”
“No, I was in camp. A kind man, a Confederate general named Gordon, found Francis. After General Gordon gave Francis water, he sent a man for me.”
“Have the men carry him into the house,” Mabel said. “Is there a doctor?”
“At one of the other houses, ma’am,” said the bloodied man lifting the injured one from the wagon. “He’ll be making his way this direction, so there’s nothing to do except wait. There’ll be more doctors coming up in the morning to help with the rest of the wounded. You ladies know how to use tourniquets? Give them plenty of water; some have been in the sun all day.”
“Tourniquets? I do,” Olivia answered as she followed the stretcher into the house. Mabel washed wounds while Beth and Olivia followed with bandages. Sue came with water. The wounded continued to arrive throughout the hot afternoon.
Sunset brought relief from the July heat, and with the darkness, the gunfire ceased. Olivia was slicing bread when she heard the lowing cattle and realized it was the only sound in the evening air.
Mr. Northrup appeared in the doorway. “Lots of milk for the lads. You ladies crumble some of Mabel’s good bread in it, and that’s about all these fellows could dream of tonight. I heard the roads are filled with Federal troops moving in. Guess we’ll have a repeat of this tomorrow.” Olivia looked up at him. Despite his cheerful words, she saw the shadows in his eyes.
“Going to get the neighbor lad to help me throw hay down,” he said. “I think we’ll need it to bed down some of the wounded tomorrow.”
An officer came into the kitchen. “Our men were chased up Cemetery Hill. There are casualties up there. We’ll be able to move them down later. Have any more space?”
“The barn,” Mr. Northrup said. “Come and have something to eat.”
The colonel shook his head. “Thanks, but no time.”
****
Early the following day, as Olivia and Beth moved among the soldiers on their pallets, they listened for sounds of battle. Beth said, “I hear the creaking of wagon wheels and the snorting of horses,” she added. “Do you suppose they’re finished with the fighting?”
Olivia shook her head and picked up more of Mrs. Northrup’s white sheets to tear into strips. “Strange that it is quiet.”
During the late afternoon, the first gun was fired. Mr. Northrup came into the house with another bucket of water. “They’re fighting in the peach orchard and through the wheat fields,” he said. “Right now the Union lads are holding Little Round Top, but they came close to losing it for a time. I think our men will be able to hang on to Cemetery Hill.”
At dark the Colonel came again. His face was haggard. “The doctor here? We need him up there. The fields are full of wounded.” He looked at Beth and Olivia. “Will you come too?” Olivia nodded and followed him out the door.
Throughout the night they worked with water and bandages, compressing torn arteries, splinting broken bones with every scrap of wood they could find. When the stretcher bearers were outlined against the dawn, the fighting resumed.
Swaying with fatigue, Beth said, “How is it humanly possible to continue? Olivia, these poor men are exhausted; how can we hope to win?”
“The Confederates are exhausted, too. Beth, we must help.”
Just after noon, as Olivia walked among the men with her bucket of cool water, the cannonading began. She stopped to listen. One of the wounded raised himself to his elbow. “Dear God,” he groaned, “that’s thundering hell. Nobody can live through that kind of fire.”
“This is the third day of fighting,” Olivia whispered. “How long can these men endure the agony?”
That night the barn was filled with soldiers lying on the hay. Nearly exhausted herself, Olivia moved among them with dippers of cool water. The doctor came, his face lined with fatigue. Olivia gave the bucket to Beth and returned to help him.
Together they treated the dirty wounds matted with soil and grass, flesh riddled by bullets. They probed, washed, and covered the torn flesh. After helping splint a broken arm, Olivia lifted a youth into a comfortable position against the hay.
He was nearly delirious. “That charge!” he said. “Did you hear the guns? Covered the whole valley with smoke.”
Olivia nodded. “We saw it here. Could scarcely breathe.”
“About the time the smoke lifted, the Rebels moved out,” he muttered. “Some say there were fifteen thousand of them. I think they carried fifteen thousand flags. Marched right out from Seminary Ridge and charged our center. Man, we cut them down as fast as we could load and fire. They kept coming. Cool under fire. They stepped right over their fallen buddies, closed ranks, and kept coming. Ma’am,” he whispered, “we watched whole brigades fall apart. Finally they leaped the wall on top, screaming that banshee yell. By then there was only about a hundred or so of them that came over.” He choked, recovered, and said, “Why did they keep it up? Senseless. Those still on their feet were captured. The rest are wounded or dead. Why?” She could only shake her head.
Evening quiet settled over the valley. The last gun had been fired, and now silence and darkness claimed the town. In every house, building, and barn, limbs trembled with fatigue as men and women moved among the wounded with water and comfort.
****
On the following day, as the sun rose overhead, Olivia dragged herself out of a troubled sleep and listened. “I don’t hear guns. Could it be General Lee has retreated?”
“I don’t know; please God, let it stop.”
Later Beth said, “Olivia, I’ll go back to Washington with you. I’ve no heart to leave you and the others right now.”
As if peering through a smoky haze of fatigue and frustration, Olivia began to see the changes in Beth. She hugged her, murmuring, “Bless you, Beth. We’ll need you.”
Mr. Northrup came into the kitchen. “There’s a meeting going on outside; you’d better come.”
Olivia and Beth followed him. They found a group of townspeople, some standing in the yard, others spilling over into the street. The colonel faced them. “General Lee has retreated from Gettysburg. We will need help. Although he carried all his ambulances filled with wounded, we are left with seven thousand seriously injured Confederate soldiers in need of care. In addition, the Confederate dead are still on the battlefields.”
He hesitated, paced the dusty street, and said, “We’ll need homes in which to house these men. We also plan to use every large building in town which can be converted into a hospital facilities. Please let me know what you can do. It is urgent we begin making provision for these men immediately.”
Olivia closed her weary eyes. Her mind was filled with Alex’s face. “I’ll stay to nurse them,” she whispered.
<
br /> The school, two churches, and a large warehouse became hospitals. Most of the volunteers were townspeople. The dead were buried, and life settled into a routine. Beth and Olivia were given quarters at the Northrups’ home, and through the autumn and winter months they stayed to nurse the wounded.
At last the snow came. The drafty buildings were equipped with additional stoves, and donations of warm blankets arrived, accompanied by warm woolen socks and tins of home-baked cookies.
Olivia looked at the gifts. “Beth, I can nearly hear Sadie saying, ‘If they were our boys, we’d want someone to do something for them.’”
She glanced at Beth. “How lonesome I am for the Coopers and for the life there!”
Beth nodded. “I keep thinking I need to write a letter to them.”
“I doubt it would get through. Perhaps when these men are sent home, we can go to see Sadie and Amos.”
****
Sadie looked over the peaceful scene. Cattle grazed and haystacks towered against a brilliant sky while the last of the brown leaves dropped gently from the trees.
With a sigh, she went into the house and slowly unwound her shawl. Amos dozed beside the fire. “So peaceful,” she murmured as he opened his eyes. She perused the newspaper. “This has President Lincoln’s address. He was at Gettysburg to dedicate a cemetery for all the men who died there. It starts out nice, but they say it was awful short: Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation…dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. She handed him the newspaper.
“Another letter came from Alex. My, ’tis strange. Gives me a queer feeling, like he is reaching down from heaven to her, my poor sweet girl. I’ll put it away with the others to save for Olivia when she comes. They’ll be a comfort. How I wish for her letters, but I know she’s busy nursing our men back to life; that is more important than writing to an old lady.”
Amos looked over the newspaper. “Don’t you think they’d comfort her now? Seems you could just send them to that hospital in Washington.”