This damn war

                                                                     

         “This damn war,” said Mr. Henry Berry as he looked anxiously out the window of his front parlor. In the distance cannons boomed.

         “Henry!” said his wife Jane, horrified. “Don’t use such language in front of him.” She nodded to their seven year old son Johnny who was playing with his kitten on the floor. He waved a long piece of string in front of the little orange and white fur ball, who chased after it in delight.

         “This is enough to make a saint swear,” said Mr. Berry as he looked out the window. “With Jenny’s husband at  the front and Tommy ran off to who knows where.  We don’t even know if our child is alive or dead!”

         Jane went back to her sewing. She was sewing socks for the Union troops.  “I’m sure he is fine. He is only fourteen; they would not let him join the army.”

         “The Union wouldn’t,” said her husband. “The rebels might. They have no conscience. He would just be another body for their cause.”

         Jane looked at her husband. He had never been so upset in the twenty years they had been married.  “I’ll make you some tea.. We don’t know which side Tommy would try to join. He may be home in a few weeks.

         “This rot they filled his head with at school,” said Henry disgustedly.  “Why do we have to live in Maryland? I wish we lived in a definitive free or slave state instead of on the border.”

         



         Meanwhile, many miles away but not so far that his father couldn’t hear the booming cannons and gunfire, a young boy wearing a grey uniform was beating a drum. He was signaling troops to battle.

         This battle was to become one of the bloodiest days in American history.  If the soldiers knew that, perhaps the battle never would have happened. Maybe they would’ve found a peaceful solution for the divisive issue. But alas, that wasn’t to be.

         “Are you ready, son?” asked the nearby lieutenant Edward Thompson. “This is what you have been training for. It may turn ugly. The Yanks are out for blood.”

         “I’m ready, sir,” said young Tommy Berry. “I’m not afraid of the Yanks. My whole family is Yanks; I’m the only one who sees the cause for the truth.”

         “Then drum the battle call, son. I see the blue uniforms marching this way.”

         Tommy beat the call for all he was worth. Soon he saw the uniforms come closer; then the American flag. Then a shot rang out. He beat out the battle positions as Lieutenant Thompson called them out ; each one was a code.

         Another shot rang out. Then cannons started booming. Smoke and screams filled the air; chaos ensued as officers were killed and nobody could give orders. The sickening smell of blood and  burning flesh filled the air.  Tommy tried his best to brave and stand his ground, but he was terrified. He couldn’t hear what Lieutenant Thompson was calling to him. He turned to look, hoping he could hear him better and as he did so, Lieutenant Thompson fell to the ground dead.

         

         Tommy looked around wildly. He wanted to run back to the camp, to safety but there were bodies and gunfire and deafening cannons everywhere. While he was looking around franticly, a Yankee soldier aimed his gun at him and fired. Drummer boys were dangerous; they beat out the positions to the men.

         

         Tommy fell to the ground. The pain in his leg was unbelievable. Blood poured out but he didn’t dare move for fear they would shoot him in the head or heart. When the battle shifted a bit to the west, Tommy wrapped his coat around his leg to try to stop the blood flow or at least lessen it. He lay back on the ground to await his fate.

         “Please God, don’t let me die,” he prayed silently as more men fell lifeless to the ground. “My poor mother and father. My poor sister and brother. Johnny is only seven, I want to play with him again, God.”

         

         Tommy faded in and out of consciousness while the battle raged around him. He woke up to a deathly quiet field a few hours later; he saw soldiers helping men up, carrying them off the field. Not all of them were dead after all. Nobody  was around him. He didn’t think he could take the pain much longer. He reached for his drumstick and weakly beat his drum, hoping the wind or God or something would carry the feeble sound to a soldier’s ears.  Finally, when he thought all was lost, he saw soldiers coming towards him. Ecstatic,  he waved his arms and shouted, “here! Here men! I’m not dead!” Then he saw their uniforms were blue, not grey.



         “Well, well,” said the first man to reach him. “Got a wound in your leg, eh son?” The soldier bent down to inspect it.

         “Yes sir,” said Tommy politely.

         “May have to have it cut off ,” said another man as he propped Tommy up carefully. “How desperate these rebels must be if they are sending children to fight us.”

         “Cut it off?” said Tommy faintly.  ‘You must be joking!”

         “I’m sorry, son, but I’m not. Those infections are nasty. Best to drink a bottle of whiskey and be done with it.”

         The two men carefully lifted Tommy up and started to carry him to the side of the field.  Tommy could hear someone running towards them but was in too much pain to look.

         “Stop! Where are you taking him?” a voice demanded.

         “To the other prisoners of war, sir,” said the soldier who had found him.

         “You can’t do that! He is my wife’s younger brother!”  Tommy looked up and saw his sister Jenny’s husband Alex.

         They looked at each other for a long moment.  “We’ll take of you, Tommy,” Alex said. “I’m going to take you to the hospital Jenny is working at. She will take good care of you. I’m going to take you myself. You are only technically a prisoner of war. They will release you because of your injury.”



         After a slow, painful journey, they finally arrived at the hospital.  Alex laid Tommy down on a cot and went to look for his sister.  Tommy moaned in agony.  Though he didn’t realize it, he had bullet fragments in his feet, back and hands. He had been shot more then once.

         “Oh, Tommy!” said Jenny when she returned with Alex, what have they done to you! This awful war!”

         Tommy thought to himself that Jenny didn’t look so great herself. She was very thin and pale. Dark circles were under her eyes as if she didn’t get enough sleep or to eat.

         “We will have you better in a jiffy,” Jenny said, waving a doctor over. Despite his pain, Tommy laughed. His prim and proper sister and picked up some of the soldier’s slang.

         An enormous man came over to him and inspected his leg. He ran his fingers along Tommy’s shoulder and back, causing him to scream in agony. “Quite a mess you’re in, eh son?” said the man  He examined Tommy’s leg with a grim look on his face. He got out some tools. Tommy was terrified.

         “Breathe deeply,” the doctor ordered as Jenny held a rag over his face. It was soaked in chloroform.  Tommy struggled but he was so weak and drained that his sister easily won the struggle. Tommy drifted off to sleep.



         He awoke with a start many hours later. He was in a wagon. Alex and a man he didn’t recognize were in the front. He thought he heard another wagon behind them but was too weak and sore to look. 

         Eventually, he began to recognize houses and the land around him. They were taking him home.

         When they got there,  Alex gently lifted Tommy down. He still had both legs but could not walk.  As Alex carried Tommy towards the house, the door opened and out rushed his parents.

         “What’s happened?” his father cried. “Is he alright?”

         “He was wounded in battle,” Alex told him.

         “Why is this gentleman here?” his mother asked, nodding at the unknown man.  Tommy recognized him as a chaplain.

         “Ma’am,” the chaplain said, taking off his hat, “may we come in? I’m afraid we have some bad news.”

         They went in. Alex laid Tommy down on the couch while his mother inspected his wounds, then sat down pensively.

         “What could this bad news be?” Tommy’s father asked. “Our son and son in law are both here, safe from the war.”

         “It’s Jenny,” said Alex. Tears began streaming down his face.  The chaplain touched his arm.

         “She was working eighteen to twenty hour days in the hospital,” the chaplain said. “In all the wards. She had consumption. I’m so sorry to tell you she passed away last night.”

         The world stopped for a moment. Nobody  said anything or moved. Even the wind seemed to stop.

         Alex began to sob.  “She is gone. Nobody knew she was sick. I don’t even think she knew, if she did she hid it. She wanted help those poor men like the angel she was.. My beautiful Jenny is gone!”  Then he was crying so hard he couldn’t talk.

         Tommy’s mother collapsed onto the chair next to sofa and took his hand. She covered her eyes with the other. His father came up behind her and held her against him. Little Johnny and his cat came over to make sure their mother was all right.

         “Mother?” said Tommy.  She didn’t reply.

         “Mama?” said Johnny. Still no answer. The only sound was Alex’s sobs.

         “Jane?” said their papa. “Are you alright?”

         She lifted her head and looked at her children who were still on earth. She rubbed her eyes and only said, “this damn war.”