Spake As a Dragon (43 page)

“
No Mother, we had to
charge from those woods to your left all the way to that stone
fence up yonder on that hill to the right, and to make matters
worse we had to crawl across that rail-fence as the Yankees were
laying volley upon volley of musket and cannon fire upon
us!”

“
My oh my, how did any of
you all survive?”

“
Sorry to say Mother, a
lot of our boys didn’t, including perhaps Matthew. After I had been
captured at that rock fence, I looked back across this field and
all I could see were hundreds and thousands of our grey-clad boys
lying mangled, mutilated and dying as far as the eye could
see.”

Malinda walked over to the split-rail
fence. She could see bullet holes and splintered wood all around.
Bloodstains abound on the wooden railings. She could see in her
mind’s eye her beautiful, blond haired boy, scared, possibly crying
trying to crawl over this obstacle. Small as it is today, it must
have seemed an insurmountable object as the bullets whizzed through
the air. If he died was he alone? Was he frightened? Was there
anyone to hold his hand? These are the thoughts of a sorrowful
mother.

From out of nowhere a shout was heard,
“Excuse me!” It was the voice of a young lady walking down the road
from the direction of Gettysburg. She yells again, “Excuse me! Are
you folks looking for someone?” As she drew closer, Malinda could
see she was but a young girl probably now much out of her
‘teens.

“
Why yes, my son. We have
come from South Carolina hoping we might find his grave or maybe we
could find out what happened to him. We never received word whether
he lived or died.”

“
Yes I know,” said the
girl, “I have lived in Gettysburg all my life and was here during
those awful days in July of ’63. Those days I will never forget.
For weeks on end, the people of Gettysburg buried the dead from
this place – I still cannot bring myself to say the word
battlefield – it was a slaughter, a field of slaughter. Excuse
me... I get so emotional sometimes remembered those young men, kids
really, both from the North and from the South, but folks like
yourselves are all the time coming here trying to find out about
one of their loved ones. Sometimes it is a son, another time it is
a father or they are looking for a husband, regardless it is
someone they loved and has never returned home to them. Who is it
you seek? Yank or Reb?”

Tears ran down Malinda’s cheek as she
heard the girl speak of the savagery that occurred at this place,
“My son Matthew was with the South, we have never heard a word from
him. I have always hoped he was alive but after coming to this
place and seeing where all the death and carnage that took place I
am beginning to lose all hope.”

“
I’m sorry, but many of
the boys are buried in common graves, they are not identified! It
is impossible to tell who is buried in them holes. I tended many
wounded boys that terrible July, some of them I remember others I
have forgotten. What was your son’s name?”

Luke answered, “His name was
Matthew.”

“
Oh my, Matthew, I cannot
begin to tell you how many boys with the name Matthew that I
helped. Is there anything else that might help me
remember?”

“
We met a man coming up
from South Carolina who said his unit was one of the Pennsylvania
units that...”

“
Hold on Mister, I
remember that outfit, the 69
^th
Pennsylvania. I remember
because we had to write down the names of all the soldiers that
were alive and wounded and it was the 69
^th
that
assembled all the notes when we were through.”

“
Oh, that’s great!” Said
Malinda, “you mean at one time you had a list of the
wounded?”

“
Yes ’em we sure did, but
them Pennsylvania soldier boys took the ledger with them when they
left.”

“
How close we came, if we
only had that list,” Malinda looked at the girl, “I’m sorry Miss, I
know it is not your fault, but if you could have just seen his
golden hair, blue eyes and that broad smile of his I’m sure you
would have remembered.”

“
I almost forgot,” Luke
said. “That man from the 69
^th
said he saw a boy picked
up near here wearing a cap with a black ostrich plume in it. He
thinks he wasn’t dead only wounded.”

“
Hold it Mister! You say a
black feather? Heck you’re looking for Matt Scarburg, ain’t you?
He’s got blonde hair and blue eyes! Them Yanks couldn’t get him
into one of their wagons without his black feather.”

Malinda almost fainted, “You know
him?”

“
Know him? Know him, you
say? I sure do, he’s married to my sister Kimberly.”

“
Married? Your sister?
Luke, Luke, find me a place to sit down, I don’t believe I can
stand any longer.”

The girl began to explain. She said
her name was Kelly Holmes and her sister was Kimberly. Matthew was
shot in the left leg almost at the spot where Malinda was now
sitting. The litter bearers placed him in a wagon and brought him
into town. She explained the Army doctors left with the rest of the
Army when it pulled out, and there was only one doctor in all of
Gettysburg. He had so many wounded to care of her and her sister
did not think he would ever get to Matt, so they carried him home
to see if they might help him. She explained her father Mark Holmes
was a clockmaker, but he had worked almost twenty-four hours a day
since the two Armies started the fight doctoring the boys the best
he could in the amputation tent.

He had been on his feet almost
constantly since the first day of the battle on the 3
^rd
of July, on the final day, Saturday he staggered into his house
exhausted. He fell asleep at the table while their mother tried to
fix him something to eat. She said Matt was lying in her father’s
bed bleeding to death. She hated to, but she awoke her father and
told him she and Kim had picked up a wounded Southern boy and tried
as best they could to stop the bleeding in his leg wound.
Everything they tried had failed. She said she told her father if
something wasn’t done, and soon, the soldier was going to
die.

Her father had them bring Matt into
the kitchen and put him on the kitchen table. Her father examined
the wound and agreed to its severity. He said the bone was
shattered and the only hope, and that was slim, was amputation, but
all the Army doctors had already left when the Army pulled out.
Kelly said Kim, her sister, begged her father to save Matt’s life.
She said her father was hesitant repeating he was no doctor, he was
only a clockmaker, but he finally relented explaining for the past
two days he had helped the doctors in the Army tents whack off arms
and legs, he guessed he could do as good a job of butchery as they
did.

Using one of his crafting saws from
his toolbox, he cut Matt’s leg off. Malinda looked faint. “Shall I
go on,” she asks? Continuing she explained how her father did the
amputation and how he and her sister sewed the stump of the leg
back together. “Father then turns to me and says, “Now he’s in
God’s hands.”

“
For the first week or so,
we didn’t know whether Matt was going to live or die. Well
obviously, he didn’t die as we now know.”

“
Where is he? I must see
him.”

“
Of course Mrs. Scarburg,
I will take you to him immediately. He is working with my father in
the clock shop.”

Malinda opens the door of the Holmes
Clock Shop and quietly walks in. Matt has his back turned to the
door and does not see her enter. He is on a lathe turning metal
parts.

“
Matthew,” Malinda says
softly. He does not turn. “Matthew Scarburg,” she says
louder.

Matt turns and drops the piece he is
holding, “Mother! Is it really you?”

She rushes across the room and hugs
her son, but she notices Matt has walked a couple of steps from the
lathe. Astonished, “Matt, you walked! Kelly told us you lost one of
your legs in the battle, how are you walking?”

Pulling up his pant leg, Matt shows
his mother and Luke his artificial leg. “What!” Said Luke, “What is
that?”

The leg is shiny and made entirely of
metal. Luke kneels down to examine it closer, “It’s a metal leg
Mother! Who made this Matt?”

“
Mark Holmes, Kimberley’s
father, but, I would think you all would be excited to see ME not
my fancy leg!”

“
Brother Matt, I am more
than excited I’m ecstatic that you are alive. I thought you bought
it at the rail fence. I’m real sorry Matthew that I couldn’t stay
with you. I couldn’t get back to you; I was captured at the rock
wall on Cemetery Ridge. Right before Pickett’s Charge you had said
you last saw Father at the boulder in Devil’s Den, did you ever
hear anything more of him?”

“
Luke, please do not feel
guilty or sorry for leaving me at the fence. Remember, I was there
too I know you had orders to leave. As far as checking on Father, a
couple of weeks after I had recuperated enough to come to my senses
I sent Kelly and Kim down to the Letterman Hospital. The hospital
stayed here about a month after the battle before moving on. All
they found out was Father was alive and had been moved to a
prisoner-of-war camp, but they could not find out
where.”

“
Later did you seek more
information on your father,” asks Malinda?”

“
I did Mother, Mark and I
have fitted injured soldiers with Mark’s artificial limbs every
since the battle. I have made it a point to question every soldier
to see if they knew anything. My best estimate, from talking with
all these amputees, is Father was probably sent to a
prisoner-of-war camp, somewhere up north, maybe to Chicago or to
Maryland. That’s all I have been able to find out.”

“
Matthew explain to me
about these...these...”

“
Artificial legs? Mark was
a clock-maker and has worked with springs, gears and pulleys all
his life. He designed a movable knee joint, and with a series of
gears, wires and pulleys build inside, one can walk. Its gears also
allow the foot to move also. With a little practice, an amputee can
practically walk normally.”

“
Matt, did you ever go
down to Devil’s Den where Father was injured?”

“
I did Luke, and I know
what your question is. You want to know what those letters and
numbers mean that Father scratched on the rock, right? I believe
they were: 2K168. Luke, do these mean anything to you?”

“
Nothing Matt, that day
right before you arrived, Father spoke to me, but you know with the
noise of the fighting, I barely understood what he was saying. He
might have said something about the letters, but all I could hear
was something about the Bible. I assumed he thought he was dying
and wanted one. If you recollect I asked if you had a Bible, you
said you didn’t have one and neither did I. Immediately I got a
bullet wound to my head and left to find medical help for myself
and Father. You were still with Father when I left, did he say
anything to you?”

“
Not a thing Luke, he was
unconscious. I only stayed a minute or so after you left when an
officer ordered us to retreat. Oh yeah, remember right before
Pickett’s Charge I told you about that hospital orderly by the name
of Charles Babb. He was with Father when I left, but that’s all I
know.”

“
Matthew, what about
graves? Is it possible Father died and was buried here on the
battlefield? Did that Letterman Hospital have its own burial
plot?”

“
Luke, there were tens of
thousands killed those three days in July 1863, you were here you
know, but only a few hundred graves have names. The majority of
those killed are buried in common graves without any names listed
whatsoever. The town’s folks buried most of the dead and I still
remember for weeks after the battle the stench was so bad we had to
wear rags over our noses. It is said that you could smell
Gettysburg’s dead bodies and dead horses that lay rotting in the
hot July sun for forty miles. It was a miserable time, to say the
least.

“
In November President
Lincoln came here and dedicated a national cemetery. It only has
roughly six thousand graves and almost half of them are
un-identified. Most all the ones identified are Yankees. We have
checked Father’s name is not among them.

“
Luke, I said all this to
point out the enormity of finding Father’s final resting place –
assuming, that is, he actually died here. Many of the men died days
later and were simply buried by the side of the road. If buried at
all.”

Malinda had been listening closely to
every word Matthew spoke. “Thank you son, I forced Luke to bring me
here hoping I could find out what happened to you and your father,
I feel better, at least I found you.”

“
Mother, I must ask, why
did you not answer my posts? I wrote you dozens of letters during
the past years, but never a response. Kim and I would have left
Pennsylvania and journeyed to Alabama, but I figured you all had
left, were dead or for some reason my posts were not being
delivered. I could not ride with one bad leg all the way to Alabama
without the assurance you would be there to greet me.”

“
Son, you and Luke had the
same postal experience. Luke, also said he has written for years
and never received an answer from me. I’m wondering what has been
going on – I guess possibly your Father experienced the
same?”