A Deeper Sense of Loyalty (28 page)

“I'll try.”

They had only gone a few steps before James slumped forward and wrapped his arms around Tar's neck.

 

By the time they got to the hospital he was unconscious and it took two orderlies to loosen the grip, made tighter by reflex, and pull him from the horse.

 

Nearly forty-eight hours passed before James awoke to a world of complete darkness. The bandage started above his hairline and weaved its way down to his chin. All around, he could hear the sounds of wounded men in agony. The sounds and the pain in his head, added to the visual blackout, made James believe that he must surely be in hell. His head throbbed and he was tormented by a burning thirst. He attempted to collect his thoughts, hoping that he would remember what happened, but he could not put it together and the frustration only added to his misery.

At length, he raised his right hand to try to get someone's attention. In a few minutes he felt a hand on his; a smaller, softer, feminine hand. Then he heard an angelic voice say, “I'm happy to see that you are awake, Lieutenant. How are you feeling today?” After a few hard swallows down his parched throat he managed to say, “May I please have some water?”

“Certainly, Lieutenant, I have water right here.” He felt an arm slide under his neck and lift slightly, and then a cup was put to his lips and cool water poured into his mouth. After a satisfying drink he thanked his benefactor and asked, “Where am I?”

“You are at St. Francis Xavier Catholic Church in Gettysburg. We've set up a hospital here to assist with the care of the wounded. I am Sister Dorthea. What is your name, Lieutenant?”

“James. Lieutenant James Langdon.”

“James is a fine name. I have always been partial to it. Are you hungry, James?”

“No, Sister. I don't think I could eat right now.”

“Are you sure? Perhaps just some clear broth? You haven't had anything since you were brought in.”

“How long has it been?”

“Two days now.”

“Nothing right now, Sister. Maybe in a little while. My head is very sore.”

“I am certain of it,” said Sister Dorthea. “You have a very nasty gash on the right side.”

Then after a moment to summon the courage James asked, “Am I blind, Sister?”

“I pray not, James. You've received a number of stitches in your scalp and many times a head injury can disrupt a person's vision for a while. The sight is blurred and the strain of trying to focus can cause additional headaches. That is why we covered your eyes for the time being, to let your optic nerves relax. We'll remove the full bandage in a couple of days and keep only your wound covered.”

“I am very grateful, Sister.”

“You are most welcome, James. When you are ready to eat something, just raise your hand as you did before. I will see it.”

Five days after the shooting, the bandage covering his eyes was removed. He was instructed to keep his eyes closed until the wrap was taken off and then to open them very slowly. At first, the sun streaming through the stain glass windows of the church was so bright that his eyes immediately began to water. They were gently mopped dry with a clean cloth, and little by little, things began to come into focus.

However, it soon became evident that his eyesight had not been restored to normal. Sometimes he would see double images causing him to bump into a wall when trying to go through a doorway. In addition, there was still a great deal of swelling around the wound and he had not entirely gotten rid of his headaches. He was also having trouble with his memory. He knew who he was and he knew, for example, that he had a wife and son, but his short term memory seemed to be erased. He could not remember events that had occurred shortly before being shot.

Ten days after receiving his wound, James was visited by the ranking military surgeon, Major Denton Wilcox. Major Wilcox had stayed behind when the army moved out to supervise the care of the great number of wounded. After conducting a thorough examination, the major explained his thoughts and opinions to James.

“I am sure that you can understand, Lieutenant, that any head would is considered to be serious, even in your case where fortunately the skull was not penetrated or even fractured. With a wound such as yours, there can still be temporary and sometimes permanent damage to the brain, which can affect eyesight or perhaps motor skills. It is my considered opinion that your condition will continue to improve until you are completely back to normal. The downside is that it is going to take time; how much time is impossible to calculate. Therefore, it is my recommendation that you should be relieved from duty until such time as you are cleared by competent medical authority to return. In other words, we are sending you home.”

“I suppose I should be happy about that, Major, and I guess I am. But it is with reluctance that I leave my post. I assume that a soldier always feels that way.”

“Just the good ones.”

“Thank you, sir. I assure you that as soon as I am able, I'll be back.”

“In the meantime, Lieutenant, take care of yourself.” James saluted his superior and said goodbye.

Three days later, he was on the train from Gettysburg to Mapletown. Major Wilcox had supplied him with a letter and a copy of his medical record to be given to his doctor at home. From that point on, Dr. Pierce would see to his care.

As the train was leaving the station, an old man in the seat behind him was talking to his wife. Apparently they had come to Gettysburg to visit a relative, a Union soldier who had been wounded in the battle. Said the old man, “What can a man do when he's lost both arms? What is to become of my poor cousin, Jacob?”

Cousin! The word triggered something in his mind. Suddenly it was all coming back. James had found his cousin, Jefferson, on the battlefield. He was badly hurt and possibly dying. He was telling James about the folks back home. The news wasn't good. James was about to go for help when he was shot in the head. Then someone came to his aid; maybe it was sergeant something or other. He remembered being helped onto his horse. Didn't the sergeant say he'd send help for the Reb?

The train was miles from the station now. There was nothing he could do. Did Jefferson live or die? At that moment James wondered if he would ever find out.

 

TWENTY-TWO

 

The Price of Commitment

 

 

As the train chugged westward, James's thoughts were about the sudden turn of events. There was not enough time to send word to Polly, save for a telegram, and he was worried that a messenger at the front door might frighten her. By the same token, she would not be prepared for James to suddenly show up at home either. At least when he did, she would see immediately that he was alive and in one piece, then he could explain things in person.

He tried to enjoy the thought of soon being in the company of his family . . . and he did. However, the fact that he was going home because he'd been wounded again, did detract from it; not to mention the concern about how well he would recover. The double vision plagued him and his head was still sore. Half of his hair had been shaved off, adding a gruesome appearance to his physical problems.

When the train arrived at the station in Mapletown, James decided to visit Dr. Pierce before going home. He thought it was important to see the doctor as soon as possible and his office was just a short walk from the station. It was necessary now to move around very carefully lest he fall or run into something and further injure himself. Major Wilcox had supplied him with a cane, and although he hated having to use it, he soon found out that it did come in handy.

Fortunately, when he got to Dr. Pierce's office, the doctor was in. When the door opened, the doctor looked up from a journal in which he had been writing, saw James, and hurried to his side. “James, what's happened? Here, let me get you seated.” Dr. Pierce took James's arm and helped him into a large stuffed chair. He pulled another one alongside and sat himself.

“I just got in from Gettysburg,” said James. “I got in the way of another bullet.”

“Yes, it was a terrible battle. I read about it in the paper. What is the extent of your injury?” James handed him the letter and the report he was given by Major Wilcox. “This will explain better than I can.”

Dr. Pierce read over the paperwork very carefully, and then he said, “You've had a very close call.”

“Yes, a little too close. Do you agree with Major Wilcox about my chances for a full recovery?”

“I wish that I could give you a definite answer, James, but I can't. It is simply too early to tell. We'll have to wait for the swelling to go down completely before we can expect much improvement. I can give you something for the pain if you need it and I will change the bandage regularly. You needn't come here. I will visit you at home. Does Polly know you're here?”

“Not yet. I didn't have time to send word. I'm afraid of how this will affect her. I haven't heard from her lately. The army moves around so much that it is difficult for the mail to keep up. Is she well, and my son?”

“They're fine, James. I stopped by just last week. Little James is growing like a weed in a spring garden. They will be happy to see you.”

“I am anxious to see them, too. I just hope I don't scare them away. I don't look so good with half my head shaved.”

“Nonsense, your hair will grow back quickly, and when everything is healed you'll only have a scar on your scalp. Just be patient. I'll go hitch up Sally and bring the buggy around front. I want you to be home taking it easy.”

The reunion with his family was the best medicine he could have received. For Polly, it was joy mixed with an unsettling concern that she obviously tried very hard to hide. Dr. Pierce was very helpful explaining what had happened and what to expect as James convalesced.

When the doctor was gone she took James's hands in hers and cried, “My dear husband. What is all of this doing to you? I have endured the loneliness. I have kept my faith in God and in the government to end slavery and pull the country back together. But it grieves me so to see you hurt again. Is this the price of commitment? God help me, but the price may be too high.” At that point she broke down completely.

James stroked her soft blonde hair until her weeping subsided. “I have struggled with this issue myself,” he said. “When I woke up in the hospital in Gettysburg I was in total darkness. I couldn't remember what had happened and I was terrified. Then I found out that I was in a house of God and I was being ministered to by a nun named Sister Dorthea. Her voice was so kind and comforting that my fear disappeared. For what purpose I was wounded, I cannot exactly say. But God
was
with me and the fact that I am here with you proves it.”

Then James told her the story of how he had been wounded. He told her about finding his cousin, Jefferson, on the battlefield and about everything he'd learned before Jeff lost consciousness.

“I don't know if Jeff survived or not. I do know that my parents are not well and that other members of my family have suffered a loss. That is why this terrible conflict must end. I know it doesn't make any sense, but the only way for it to end is to keep fighting. I remember how you explained it to me the last time I was home and you were right. We must carry on, not just for our sake, but for our son's generation as well.”

“Forgive my weakness, James. It is only because I love you so.”

“There is nothing to forgive. Please don't think of yourself as weak—it isn't true. I am guilty of having the same feelings as you. We will find our strength in each other and not allow what we have to be destroyed.”

“And your family in Georgia . . . what can we do for them?”

“We can pray.”

The conversation was interrupted by a baby's cry from upstairs.

“Your son is awake,” said Polly. “He probably knows that his courageous father is home. I will tend to him then bring him down for a visit.”

James eased back in the chair and closed his eyes. It really was good to be home no matter how it had come to be. When Polly came downstairs, James took his son and held him for hours. Even at seven months he was the image of his mother:  fair hair and the same blue eyes. James hoped that one day he would take the boy to Georgia and show him his ancestral home.

By January, 1864, James was showing vast signs of improvement. His wound was completely healed and his eyesight was nearly back to normal. He still suffered from headaches, but they were less frequent. Dr. Pierce was still unwilling to release James from his care. Like Reverend Pyle and his wife, Dr. Pierce had become a very close friend. After all, it was the good doctor who had saved his life the first time he came to Mapletown. It was he who had delivered little James and taken care of Polly.

Now James harbored the suspicion that perhaps the doctor did not wish to see him return to the war. Maybe he thought that if he withheld the release long enough the war would end before he could return to battle. Even if James could prove his suspicion he would not be angry—he would be grateful. The doctor's idea, if it were true,
would
hold a certain degree of promise. During his time at home, James had read every word the paper printed about the progress of the war. He knew, of course, that Gettysburg had been a great Northern victory. What he didn't know at the time was that the Confederate stronghold at Vicksburg, Mississippi had fallen the same day to General U.S. Grant and his army. A turning point had been reached and the more optimistic people in the country might be willing to say that light could be seen at the end of the tunnel.

The beginning of 1864 also marked the one year anniversary of the acceptance of blacks into the Union army. James remembered thinking how wonderful it was that the black man was finally getting the chance to fight for his freedom. Although the privilege had been denied from the outset of the war, principally because no one thought that the blacks would make good soldiers, once given the opportunity they had been expedient in proving the naysayers wrong.