Plantation Nation (9781621352877) (10 page)

Silence beat.

"Who doesn't want the chance to put them
Rebels in their place?" Ben said with a smirk.

Their chuckles revived, and no one seemed to
care when Emma turned and left them. Deep disappointment settled
over her, and her distrust of the men was reborn. She aimed to
spend the night at the hospital tent, as far from every Yankee as
she could get. At that moment, she doubted any man wanted to spit
on and desert the Union army more than she did.

****

Centreville, Virginia

July, 1861

Marching orders came for the men of Fort
Madison days later, along with the announcement that their company,
and several others, were merging with Brigadier General Irvin
McDowell's troops in Northern Virginia. Lincoln and key members of
his administration were eager for an assault on Confederate troops
amassing near Manassas Junction. Since Colonel Robert E. Lee
declined the offer to lead and advance Union troops because of his
devotion to seceding Virginia, Lincoln made due with the average
military talent at his disposal and accepted the fact many of his
ranking officers lacked battlefield knowledge and strategic
application. Nothing could have been truer of Irvin McDowell. Well
aware McDowell had no leadership experience, Lincoln hoped
McDowell's sudden promotion in mid-May would boost the general's
confidence and ensure a solid victory for the Union.

With loaded-down haversacks, every man
contributed to moving artillery and supplies over the twenty-five
mile trek. Sweltering heat accompanied them. Temporary headquarters
were erected for McDowell and his officers, as were tents for meal
preparation and hospital usage.

Unease churned within Emma. She'd grown
comfortable with her routine at Fort Madison, even with the tirades
of Dr. Spear. But here, with the men's tents pitched even closer
together for added protection and because there were a great deal
more men, Emma almost felt as if she were reliving her first days
of encampment. She would have to scout for a new spot for bathing
and privacy. Distrusting her Yankee comrades more than ever, she
planned to spend more time at the hospital and bunk there when she
could.

"Eat up, fellas!" said Grady, as men from
Emma's company gathered for supper. A new transplant at
Centreville, Grady Hawk became the camp's main cook. With scraggly,
gray hair and no teeth, Grady had a dead eye and walked with a
limp. When asked about his collateral damage, Grady changed his
story each time and offered an explanation more unbelievable than
the previous tale. Although no one believed he had wrestled a
jaguar in South America, some suspected a grain of truth about his
adventures on a whaling ship. Most found him entertaining,
especially when he claimed he could pop out his glass eye and let
the men hold it. Eli Nash in particular had lit up at the idea, but
Grady said the eye was stuck and "bein' a stubborn cuss."

An eeriness slinked over Emma whenever she
was around Grady. Not only did the constant storytelling irk her
and that dead eye send chills sliding down her spine, but the way
Grady looked at Emma disturbed her. Grady often flashed a toothless
smile for Emma's eyes only, which deepened her repulsion.

"Eat up! Eat up!" Grady scooped potato soup
into the tin bowls that passed into his hands. "I tossed in some
possum meat. Should thicken this up a bit, keep you warm
tonight."

Men hesitated and traded glances until Grady
looked up and roared with laughter. Whether that laugh was meant to
ease cringing faces or assure them possum wasn't an ingredient, no
one knew. Just as no one could identify the smell of the stew. Emma
poked and played with her portion as she usually did whenever Grady
manned the pot.

"You meet the new lieutenant yet?" Graham
asked Emma after most men finished or gave up on their vittles.
They'd spoken little since the company's relocation and the night
Emma had berated her comrades and stormed off.

"Trumball? Nah, I been doing double shifts,
helping set up the hospital." Emma had welcomed the long days, even
though Dr. Spear's temperament showed no bright spots.

Emma handed her plate to Nash, as did others.
Nash's iron stomach and lack of taste buds ensured the meager
portions didn't go to waste. Not even the hardtack littered with
weevils passed by him.

"He's seven foot tall," Nash said of
Trumball.

"You've met him?" Graham asked.

"Not yet. Heard 'bout him. He can shoot a man
square in the forehead a hundred yards off."

"What?" Emma asked.

"It's true," Nash said. "He was some big hero
in the war with them Mexicans. Popped off a bunch 'o 'em with his
dead aim. Even drug his injured horse ten miles from a battlefield
so's the Injuns wouldn't eat it."

Emma and Graham looked at each other in
dubious silence.

Their meal was interrupted by the approaching
of Dr. Spear. He tramped through the crowds of men, pointing and
calling to some of the soldiers. When he noticed Emma, Dr. Spear
blared, "Edwin! Come with me. You're needed at the hospital
immediately!"

****

Repositioning troops south of Washington may
have strengthened the Union forces against the Confederates, but
the onslaught of illness continued. Typhus had launched a strong
offensive well before the hospital was fully up and
operational.

When Emma, Dr. Spear, and other men the
doctor had rounded up entered the tent, the smell of gunpowder and
the stench of burnt flesh made nostrils wince.

Emma saw half a dozen men doubled over and
gripped with pain. Then her eyes caught sight of Ben Reynolds. On a
cot, shaking and with his hands crossed over his chest, Ben lay
with his eyes closed. Emma went to him and stepped back in horror.
Burnt scraps of flesh hung from Ben's hand.

"Dear God, what happened?" Emma asked
breathlessly. She spoke more to herself than to Ben, but Ben's eyes
opened, though only a slit.

"Cannon… misfired." The words cost Ben his
remaining strength. He faded from consciousness.

Emma foraged in the tent for ointment and
bandages. Dr. Spear came to Ben's side and administered doses of
morphine, which was reserved for restricted use, and shouted
instructions to the assistants and nurses. Emma looked at the other
injured men. One had gunpowder burns to his face. Another lay
dead.

Emma shook her head and refocused on Ben. She
wrapped the injured hand, finding no ointment or salve, and hoped
it would be enough to stop the bleeding. She wiped Ben's face with
a cool cloth and hoped she could keep from crying.

"How bad is he?"

Emma looked up and saw General McDowell
standing beside the cot. Two officers flanked his sides. Doctor
Spear stepped in front of Emma and replied as though the general
had addressed him.

"I'm afraid it's too soon to say, sir." Dr.
Spear glanced at the bandaged hand. "He will probably lose the use
of his hand, but he'll live as long as infection or gangrene
doesn't set in."

McDowell, imposing in his full uniform, shook
his head while he scowled at Ben's injury. "This whole thing could
have been avoided. Look around you, Major Briggs. This is uncalled
for."

"Sir," said the major at McDowell's side,
"we're doing our best to train the men on how to use the artillery.
Risk is involved with many of these weapons."

"Dozens of our men have been lost to similar
injuries," McDowell said. "And we're running out of time. The
president sent word, urging an attack on Confederate forces outside
of Sudley Springs. He wants us to march in two days. We can't
afford any more losses such as this. Every man is vital to our
cause."

"But, sir, these troops are nowhere near
ready for battle," said the other officer.

"We have no choice, Captain Olney."
McDowell's raised voice alarmed everyone. "The president refuses to
wait any longer. He wants this rebellion stamped out."

Screams erupted from a man a few beds down.
Two men held him down as an assistant cut off the injured man's
footwear. Misshapen and with bones protruding, the foot oozed
blood. Emma assumed the cannon must have recoiled and rolled atop
the man's foot. The assistant called for Dr. Spear and the
amputation tools.

"General, I ask you to reconsider," Major
Briggs said. "We may have greater numbers, but heading into battle
would be unwise at this point. These men are factory workers and
farmers. With all due respect, sir, they have no experience as
soldiers. You must petition the president for more time."

"Absolutely not! These men will gain
experience. Combat will be the best thing for them. We will
surprise the Rebels down in Manassas and serve them a swift
defeat." McDowell eyed his subordinates, suggesting that no further
comment was necessary. "Gentlemen, inform your commanders and
prepare your men. Mark my words, inside a week, we will have a
victory to report to the president."

Emma looked at Ben. Bits of singed flesh and
blood spatter stained his uniform. Despite the morphine, Ben still
shook. If Ben's injury was only a sampling of the gruesome sights
to come, Emma tried to mentally prepare herself for the thick of
battle, and she searched for a prayer that would bring a sense of
peace and confidence to her doubtful heart.

Manassas, Virginia

July 21, 1861

Reluctance threatened to choke Emma as she
and thousands of other Union troops tramped down Warrenton Pike.
Second thoughts and doubts had no place. Not now. Regardless of the
issues brewing in the Union camp, McDowell ordered his men forward
and launched an assault at Bull Run. In the pre-dawn hours of that
summer morning, muskets sparked and fired, howitzers thundered,
grapeshot showered. Men became soldiers.

At the sight of charging Rebels, Emma raised
her musket but froze. Her arms trembled as deranged-struck faces
grew near. She heard nothing. The world around her became a
soundless, tasteless fog. Everything blurred together. Emma dove to
the ground just in time to miss the swipe of a Rebel's bayonet.
Other men fell, agony marring their faces. She scrambled to go
nowhere. Dirt rained as gunpowder and smoke suffocated the air.

"Tom!"

The sound of her assumed name snapped her
from her haze.

"Tom!"

She scanned the littered battlefield and saw
Xavier, spread in pieces. His left arm had been blown from his
body. Part of his face was scorched. He feebly reached for
Emma.

"Help me!"

She went to him and laid her body atop Xavier
for protection against incoming shots, but she knew they couldn't
stay there, sprawled on the battlefield and under fire. A desperate
determination rose in Emma and propelled her to get Xavier to
safety. With Xavier wailing, Emma got him to his feet and draped
his right arm around her shoulders. Emma had nothing to stop the
bleeding wound. They staggered a few steps, increasing Emma's
thinning confidence for a split second. Then Xavier's head fell
back, and he lost consciousness. His weight, too much for Emma to
bear, plunged them both to the ground. She shook Xavier and tried
to rouse him, but Xavier was motionless. Weeping, she attempted to
drag him, but her efforts were useless. Xavier was dead.

The Confederates bombarded the Union's flank
with grapeshot, dwindling the Union's numerical advantage.
Skirmishes endured throughout the day, with each army taking its
hit. Victory vacillated and looked promising for each side at
different moments of the conflict. The Yankees fought hard all
through the day and weakened the Rebels' attack, but reinforcements
under the command of General Johnston arrived at the Manassas train
depot, and General Bernard Bee rallied his Southern countrymen to
such a degree they produced a collective war cry. The Rebel yell
that sounded from the Confederates unnerved and confused Union
troops. Such advantages put the Union in retreat.

Believing an easy defeat was in store for the
Confederates, civilians from Washington attended the battle as if
it had been designed for their entertainment. Crowds perched on
overlooking bluffs and hilltops. However, as the grapeshot pelted
and Southern troops advanced dangerously close, people abandoned
their picnic lunches, ducked into their carriages and followed the
example of the bluecoats.

****

Union encampment

Outside Washington, D.C.

Ultimately, General McDowell's plan to push
the Rebels back across the Rappahannock River and away from
Washington proved too complicated for him to communicate and for
his men to execute. Forces slowly made their way back to McDowell's
former encampment where they were safe from Confederate fire.
Embarrassment and an air of disenchantment reigned.

Emma reported to the hospital tent. She knew
her services would be needed, but after watching Xavier die, Emma
doubted the effectiveness of her skills, and she dreaded the
possibility of seeing more men die so horrifically.

In comparison to the Union's number of
troops, casualties had been minor. Injured men flooded the hospital
tent, though. Emma put aside her squeamishness and focused on the
need at hand. Hospital stewards, assistants, and nurses shuffled
about. Emma expected to catch a glimpse of Dr. Spear, wearing a
bloodied apron and yelling orders, but saw no sign of him. She
wondered if the good doctor had gone into hiding to save himself
from the workload that had exploded.

"Edmonds? Are you Private Edmonds?"

Emma's jaw dropped. A woman stood in front of
her. A woman! Shorter than Emma and with a head of jet-black hair,
she had a kind but distressed face. A mature figure and deep lines
on her forehead suggested she was much older than Emma, and in her
confusion at seeing another female among the ranks, Emma could only
nod her reply to the question.