Shannon Farrington - An Unlikely Union

She felt it her duty to protect Sally now.

“We were just returning,” she said politely. “Were we not, Nurse Hastings?”

Sally quickly wiped her eyes, her back now ramrod-straight as though she herself were a member of the Federal army. “Yes, indeed.”

Dr. Mackay crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Aye,” he said slowly. “Then do so directly.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the women said in unison.

The army physician moved by them and into the next room. Emily caught Sally’s eye as the tornado blew past. Both were tempted to make a remark concerning the rude bluecoat, but they did not indulge in the luxury.

The Confederate prisoners needed care.

* * *

Flickering oil lamps hung from the rafters as Evan stepped into the remaining ward. There were six buildings in this former cotton warehouse, 425 beds. Most of them were crammed with rebels. His mouth soured just thinking of it. Evan knew firsthand that the field hospitals in Gettysburg were bursting at the seams with brave boys in blue that deserved beds. Boys like Andrew.

He sighed. Yet even if there was room, I wouldn’t bring our men here, not to this city. It is one full of barbarians trying to pass themselves off as loyal members of the Union.

His collar grew tight and his head warm. The reaction wasn’t caused by the stifling July heat. It was the memory of his younger brother and the brief time he had endured in Baltimore. Evan had heard the story from Andrew’s comrades, the men of the Twenty-Sixth and Twenty-Seventh Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, “The Washington Brigade.”

“They simply surrounded us!”

“They cut us off from the rest of the regiment!”

“They were ready to tear us to shreds!”

Rioters and murderers, every last one of them, Evan thought. And now I must put them back together. The army could have kept me in Pennsylvania. They could have let me tend to our men. They need every surgeon available.

But Providence had not allowed him to remain in Gettysburg, and Evan had his suspicions why.

I am doing penance for my actions, in the worst possible way.

He cast a glance in the direction of one particular rebel, a major. He was a Maryland man. Evan had seen what remained of his butternut uniform when he’d first arrived. The Johnny’s left arm had just been amputated because a vile infection had set in. Evan had performed the surgery. He had done his best to save the reb’s life. His duty to God and his Hippocratic oath to do no harm compelled such. But he took no pride in the task. After discharge from the hospital, rebels like this one would be sent to prison, but upon parole many would return to their regiments only to fire upon U.S. soldiers again.

At least this one won’t be picking up a musket, he told himself.

The major was still with fever and under the effects of the ether so he continued through the ward. Those prisoners who asked for water or voiced other requests he left to the nurses. That was their job. Most of them were rebel women anyway. Why his superiors permitted their presence in a U.S. Army hospital was beyond his comprehension. They had each signed oaths of loyalty, but it was rumored that several had altered the document. Finding certain lines disagreeable, they had supposedly crossed them out.

If loyalty to the government of the United States of America, to its Constitution, is so abhorrent, they have no business nursing prisoners of war. If Evan had his way, he would have all secessionist nurses tossed out to the street and the rebel wounded held in prison until the end of the war.

They deserved it after what they had done to his brother.

* * *

Emily drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to ignore the odors of blood, ether and rotting fish from the nearby docks. This massive warehouse had little means of ventilation, and the air grew more pungent by the day.

Sally had returned to her own section of the hospital. Emily now prepared to step into hers. She smoothed out her pinner apron. Though it pained her, she smiled. It would do the men no good to see a downcast face. They needed hope. They needed cheer.

Lord, help me to be a light. Help me to show Your love.

She had no intention of fostering romantic feelings among the soldiers, but a pretty smile and a little lilac water did wonders in the wards. Some men had been removed from sisters, mothers and sweethearts for so long that they had forgotten the fairer points of civilized society. Emily wanted to remind them there was more to life than this war. Whenever she wasn’t assisting doctors or changing soiled bandages, she tried to do so.

She had written countless letters on behalf of men too sick to do so for themselves. She recited Bible verses and poetry. She also spent a great deal of time fanning the suffering, an effort to break the sweltering midsummer heat.

Emily’s friend Julia Ward was doing so now. She was seated at her brother’s bedside. Edward still slept heavily from his surgery. Looking at him, Emily sighed. He was once the most confident, dashing man of her neighborhood and had captured ladies’ hearts with ease. Injury, illness and two years of war, however, had ravaged his chiseled face and muscular frame. Emily wondered just what Edward would think when he woke to find his left arm was no more.

Each man reacted differently to the devastating reality of amputation. Some cried out for their missing limbs; others simply turned in silence toward the wall. Whichever Edward’s reaction, she hoped he would realize that his family and friends still cared for him. Emily moved closer to his bed. Julia looked up. Fatigue lined her eyes.

“Has there been any change?” Emily asked.

“No.”

She could hear the discouragement in her friend’s voice. Emily tried to reassure her. “Sometimes it takes quite a while for the ether to wear off.”

“He isn’t any cooler. At least not yet.”

Emily felt Edward’s forehead for herself. “It is still early.”

“Would you bring me a basin and some cool water?” Julia asked. “I’ll sponge his face and neck.”

“That would be very helpful, but be careful not to overdo.”

“I won’t.”

Edward’s sister had faithfully attended him since his arrival yet she was not a nurse. Emily knew exactly why Julia had not volunteered. Although her sacque bodice and gored skirts concealed any evidence from the average passerby, Emily and her closest friends knew the truth. Julia was expecting a child.

“Em?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“When Edward begins to stir...will he be sick to his stomach...or have strange visions? I have heard that some men do.”

“Not necessarily, but we should keep watch. The best thing you can do for now is stay beside him. Alert me the moment he begins to wake.”

Commotion at the far end of the ward caught Emily’s attention. Dr. Mackay was barking orders to two of the Federal stewards.

“I told you to deliver him to surgery! Do so immediately!”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat and watched as the young men in blue scrambled to obey. The man in question had severe shrapnel wounds to his leg.

“Tell the surgeon to cut the leg now or he’ll have another dead man on his hands!”

Emily gasped. The poor man about to undergo the procedure was so delirious with wound fever that he knew not what was about to happen, but everyone else in the room did. Their faces went pale. Even the stewards cringed at the doctor’s harsh tone.

Forcing herself to continue, she found Julia a sponge and basin, then moved on. A soldier several beds down from Edward asked for a drink. Emily brought him a cupful of the freshest water she could find. His face immediately brightened.

“Bless you, Miss Emily.”

“God bless you, Jimmy.”