Rebel Heart: (Swept Away) Of Life and Love during the American Civil War

Her thoughts are safe with him

Some of what follows is violent. War is violent. It is not pretty. Part of what keeps men going is the women in their lives. Their mother, their wives or their girl friends.

Daniel looked at Eli. Together, they went to get one of the stretchers, which were nothing more than a heavy blanket with two poles running along the sides. They were among the first to go, and when they started down the hill of the battlefield, they quickly came to a man softly crying.

"We're here to take you to the hospital," said Daniel.

"Thank God," said the soldier, his voice weak and sounding cutoff. They turned him over in order to use his arms to lift him onto the stretcher, seeing then that his leg hung uselessly below the knee. The man's face agonized at their moving him, but aside from a groan, he did not cry out.

Daniel didn't know what to say to him. Not knowing how much blood he had lost or if he would live or die, he said nothing. They carried him back up the gentle hill, and saw that the ambulance wagon was ready. Two men were already there, lying on a bed of straw, and with the help of the driver, they hoisted him up to lay beside them. Then they went back for more.

Daniel and Eli didn't talk much at all during the hours spent bringing back the wounded. What could be said? Some men were so riddled with bullets, that when they rolled them over to see if they were alive it was no surprise that they were not.

With others, they had no doubt. They could tell by their cursing or by their audible praying that they were alive and had a chance of surviving. Some reached out to clutch their hands in thanks that they had come for them. Others were stoic, not saying a word and seeming to be in deep meditation. Still others were crying out in pain, or moaning low and incoherently. Daniel and Eli took them all if they showed any sign of life.

When their tour of duty was finally over, Daniel was tired beyond exhaustion. It was not easy work carrying bodies up the hill, and it was sad to see what enemy bullets had done to previously healthy soldiers. He and Eli ate the meal provided them in silence under the stars.

The next day, after reveille and breakfast, Daniel and his company were given a new assignment, burying the dead. To do the job they were armed with one shovel per each two men. Their instructions were to bury them. Nothing more. Probably nothing more could be expected due to the immensity of the task.

This time it was Daniel and Hank who paired up to work together. They, along with thirty-nine other pairs of soldiers set out toward Henry Hill. On reaching the top, in the morning light they saw the full extent of the dead. Some lying on their back, faces lit by the sun, others curled into fetal positions, head to knees, and a few whose leg or arms were in positions impossible for the living to assume. There were even a few whose body parts were separated from their torsos. In the bright morning sun they stared at the fallen dead. It was a scene out of their worst nightmares. Other soldiers did the same, gawking at the unforgettable scene.

Daniel and Hank came to the first body. Hank reached down and pushed on his shoulder, turning him over. Dried blood came from his mouth, and a trail of it led down his neck. His face was ashen in death. Hank looked away, and noticed the movement of people far down and across the valley. He said dryly to Daniel, "Looks like we're not the only ones sent out to do this."

Daniel looked up from the dead soldier to where Hank still gazed. "Good. Must be people from the town. I'm glad. By now the Yanks have fled clear to Washington. We won't have to bury all their dead as well as our own."

"Even so," said Hank. "How are we ever going to bury so many?"

Eli came over to them. He introduced them to his partner, John. "I'm thinking," he said, "This is too many to bury in single graves. We'd be out here all day and night. Why don't we work together and lay two down together?"

"I like the idea," said Hank. "They fought together; don't think it would be a dishonor for them to lie together."

"Let's do it," said Daniel. With that, they went to get another body to lie beside the first. They looked down at him. He had been shot in the stomach and chest. His face was contorted. Daniel thought to himself, hopefully, he didn't suffer long before dying. "Anyone know either of them?" he asked. They shook their heads no. "We should check their pockets and haversacks to see if they have anything on them to say who they were before we bury them."

The work of digging up the ground and burying the soldiers was arduous, and though the four men worked together, as the hours passed, they became more and more exhausted. They searched the pockets of the dead for identification, and if they had a haversack they searched that as well, taking care to keep each man's belongings separate from others.

They found all manner of things, including letters, tintypes of wives, children, girl friends, New Testaments, wallets, some with money and identification, pen knives, combs, other small personal items. These were the only things that remained of them, the only things that could be sent back to their loved ones. They decided that when they were finished they would give them all to the lieutenant, who they thought would be the best one to return the remains to their families.

They stopped at bugle call. Time for supper. But not for much else. Except one very important thing. Mail call. The mail had caught up with them. Daniel waited like everyone else, hoping his name would be called. It was, and he went up to get it from the sergeant. It was from Jenny. He tucked it safely in his pocket and waited until the last name was called. Now back with his messmates, he shook his head, discouraged that he still had no letter from Samantha.

"You got a letter," said Hank. "You should be glad you got one."

Daniel didn't tell him he was disappointed that he didn't get one from Samantha. Seeing that Hank didn't get a letter this time, he said, "Not from the one I expected."

Right after supper and mail call, the company was sent out again. Still more men needed to be buried. It was mean work, not only because it was arduous, but to see the shattered bodies, some unrecognizable, was depressing to say the least. But they worked hard and quickly, not wanting to have to return tomorrow to complete the grisly job. Finally, as night fell, they buried the last man in sight. They hoped that the townspeople and the few slaves working with them had finished with the ones closer to the town.

Daniel and the others stumbled into their made up tents, too tired to do anything else but drop to the ground and sleep. As much as Daniel looked forward to reading Jenny's letter, nightfall and exhaustion kept him from it. Her letter, kept secure in his pocket, would have to wait till the morrow.