On to Richmond (25 page)

             
Thomas sat quietly. 

             
Carrie finally looked up at him.  “Thank you.”

             
He merely nodded.  “It is a decision only you can make.  I may have my preference, but I know in the end you will make your decision yourself.”

             
Carrie nodded.  “I will return to the plantation.  I still feel my place is there.  But I will not leave for a few days,” she added firmly.

             
“Not until you know if Robert is okay.”  It wasn’t a question.

             
Carrie nodded again, grateful that her father understood even though she knew that he didn’t really understand at the level she wanted him to.  She would have to be content with what she could have.  “Yes.  I have to know about Robert.”

The dark clouds dumping rain on the city also seemed to have cast a pall over the previous night’s feelings of celebration and jubilation.  There were no telegrams coming in to ease anxious hearts and minds.  The rain had disrupted the lines and made communication impossible.  How long before they knew the price of victory?  How long before each family knew if they had been called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice? 

              Carrie was near the front of the crowd swelling Capitol Square when Mayor Mayo took his place on the steps of the Capitol.  She listened quietly as he spoke of the need to care for the gallant soldiers returning wounded from the glorious victory that had been won. 

             
“We need a committee to go up to Manassas and aid in bringing the soldiers home,” he said. 

             
It took just minutes for a group of people stepped forward to heed his call.  Then the mayor continued on.  “Hospital accommodations here in Richmond are rather limited...”

             
Rather
limited, Carrie thought.  She would have substituted the word,
painfully
.  No one had thought very much about medical care.  In fact, it had been given hardly any thought at all.  People had gone blissfully along thinking there would be no real war - and if there was, the South would be gloriously victorious with hardly anyone injured.  Reality was becoming a bitter pill to swallow. 

             
She swung her attention back to the mayor as he continued. 

             
“...until we can provide facilities on a more permanent basis, we will need a committee to help secure temporary facilities.  We will need rooms, supplies, and nurses to take care of the men coming in.”

             
Carrie looked around as an eager swell of voices rose around her.  Richmond may not have known what was being requested of her when she became the capital of the Confederacy, but they were certainly giving their all to rise to the occasion.  Once more, Carrie struggled with her desire to stay in the city.  She could make a difference here.  She knew she could!  In spite of the crowded congestion, this was where she wanted to be.   Once more the mayor’s voice broke into her thoughts. 

             
“And we’ll need a committee to go out into the surrounding countryside.  We need donations of farm fresh produce.  The soldiers will need good food.  There simply is not enough to meet the need.”

             
His words once again settled the conflict in Carrie’s heart.  For now, her place was on the plantation.  She would return as soon as there was news of Robert.  As she listened to the swell of voices, her mind was busily planning how to manage the fields to produce the most food for the city.  It wasn’t the job she wanted to do, but it was the job she had been given to do.  She would do it to the best of her ability. 

“Here comes the first train!”  someone standing next to Carrie shouted.  “Here come our boys!” 

              Carrie strained to catch her first glimpse of the approaching train.  Already she was dreading what she would see.  The stream of broken humanity had begun that morning.  She was riding with her father in the carriage when she had seen a group of men moving slowly down the road ahead of her.   Tears had rolled down her face as she drew close enough to identify them. 

             
Tattered gray uniforms, still covered with the dust of battle, clothed the first troops to reach the city.  They called themselves the walking wounded, still able to laugh and talk about the victory they had won.  Bloody bandages covered head wounds; slings held injured arms; rough crutches supported broken or strained limbs.  Tears had swollen in the eyes of some as they witnessed the hero’s reception with which they were greeted.

             
Now the first ambulance train was rolling slowly into the station.  Rain was once more pelting the city as the engine ground to a halt in the deepening twilight.  A hush fell over the crowd as the doors to one of the cars slid open.  Men and women had come by the scores, curious to see what the great battle had cost or to look for loved ones. 

             
Carrie had come only to look for Robert.  She knew in her heart she could not return to the plantation until she knew he was all right.  She didn’t stop to question or examine her feelings.  She simply knew she couldn’t leave.  Maybe in the quiet of her own room at home on the plantation she would analyze the deep love that held her in the city when she should be breaking ground for seed in one of the fields.  But not now.  She didn’t have a need to understand her feelings.  She just had to know if Robert was alive and well. 

             
The first stretcher was carried slowly from the train.                The soldier looked to be in his late teens.  He was filthy and the sickly pallor of his skin stood starkly against the darkening day.   His eyes were open but were staring seemingly at nothing.  His grimy hand gripped the side of the stretcher tightly as if he were trying to control his desire to scream out against the pain.  His head was wrapped in a soiled bandage, and one arm was held tightly against his chest in a sling.  But it was his leg that drew everyone’s attention.  There was only one of them.  The other had been blown away by a cannon shell or taken away by a surgeon’s knife. 

             
Carrie raised her hand quickly and stuffed her knuckles against her mouth to keep from crying out.  How could anything be worth this?  The stunned silence around her continued as dozens of men were pulled out of the cars lining the tracks.   Scores of carriages were lined up to transport the soldiers to the homes waiting for them.   She wanted to turn and run from the horrible scene before her, but she couldn’t move.  She had to know if Robert’s strong, handsome face was among those being pulled from the trains. 

             
Over 1000 men...
   The caravan of ambulance trains would continue for a long time. 

             
Carrie held the piece of paper tightly in her hands.  Her father had given it to her this morning.  It was a list of all the homes housing wounded soldiers.  She would go to them one by one.  Another list had come through the night before.  It was a list of the wounded from the battle at Bull Run.  She had almost cried with relief when she had not found Robert’s name.  Then her father, understanding her need to know, had gently reminded her the list might not be complete. 

             
Carrie looked up at the gracious brownstone in front of her.  The steep stairs, lined with graceful wrought-iron, must have been quite a challenge to the men carrying stretchers.  This was a home designed for entertaining and family fun.  She could smell the hospital odor as she slowly approached the door.  Open windows allowed all the smells to waft out on the streets.  She knocked on the door quietly.  She didn’t want to disturb anyone. 

             
“May I help you?” 

             
Carrie smiled at the pleasant-faced woman who answered the door.  “My name is Carrie Cromwell.  I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for someone.  His name is Robert Borden.  Is he here by any chance?” she said, fervently hoping the answer was no. 

             
“I’m sorry, but no, he’s not here.  Have you seen the list of wounded?  They have posted it at the Capitol,” the woman said kindly, looking as if she wanted to help. 

             
“Yes, I’ve seen it.  But it may not be complete.  I just have to know...”  Her voice trailed off as the sympathy in the other woman’s eyes deepened. 

             
“Is Robert Borden your husband?”

             
“No,” Carrie said quickly.  “He’s...”  Just what was he?  “He’s someone very special to me.”

             
“I see,” the woman said compassionately.  “Well, good luck in your search.”  Just then a hoarse voice cried out for her.  She backed quickly from the door.  “Excuse me, please.  I must go to my patient.” 

             
The door closed quickly, and once more Carrie was alone on the porch.   She listened quietly for a moment as the woman’s calming voice drifted through the open window.  The moans of the wounded man ceased.  Carrie looked down at the next address on her list, walked down the steps, and continued down the street.  The next house was just one block farther. 

             
By late afternoon, Carrie was exhausted.  She didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed.  She surely didn’t want to find Robert wounded in one of these houses, but she yearned for some sure knowledge of how he was.   There were only three addresses left on her list when she knocked at the door of a plain, yet well-built, wooden frame house.  Dutifully, she repeated her speech then waited for the woman to shake her head like all the rest. 

             
“Robert Borden?  Did you say Robert Borden? A lieutenant?” the rather large woman with the lined face asked sharply. 

             
Carrie gasped and took a step forward.  “Yes!  Yes, I did.  Is he here?”

             
The woman shook her head decisively.  “No, Miss Cromwell.  He isn’t here, but someone is here I think you would like to meet.”  Smiling, she held the door open and beckoned her inside. 

             
Mystified, Carrie stepped inside the cool foyer.  The afternoon had brought a cooling breeze that ruffled the heavy drapes at the tall windows.   The woman started up the wide staircase and then turned around. 

             
“My name is Jane Fenmore.  I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier.”

             
Carrie smiled graciously.  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Fenmore.”  She controlled the urge to dash up the stairs past her. 

             
“You must have had quite a search of it today,” Mrs. Fenmore observed.

             
Carrie nodded, knowing she must look exhausted.  “I started at nine o’clock this morning.”