The Last, Long Night (#5 in the Bregdan Chronicles Historical Fiction Romance Series) (47 page)

“I find it rather expected,” she said bluntly, somehow forcing her brain cells back to life.

“Expected?”

“Yes.”  Carrie no longer cared what impact her words would have.  “Our representatives seemed to have gone in with the thought of negotiating on equal terms.  I’d say the South has no negotiating strength since we’re on the brink of extinction, and the North is obviously winning the war.”

Thomas stared at her, disappointment shining in his eyes.

The disappointment shredded Carrie’s last bit of self-control.  “I’m sick of all of it!” she cried.  “I don’t care about stupid men trying to play politics while they gamble with our lives.”

“
Stupid men
?” her father asked, anger sparking in his eyes.  “You are talking about very important men.”

“I’m talking about men who couldn’t see past their noses four years ago, or we wouldn’t be in this war,” Carrie snapped, his anger fueling her own.  “Not one person thought past his own agenda, and they’re still not thinking past their own agendas, or I wouldn’t have spent all day amputating frozen feet and hands off the soldiers these
important men
make fight in a war they have no hope of winning!” she said sarcastically.

She saw alarm on her father’s face, but now that the words were flowing, she could not turn them off.  “This morning I helped amputate the right foot, all the toes, and three fingers from the left hand of Jasper Appleton, Louisa’s brother-in-law that she will never have the pleasure to meet because of this war.  I held him an hour ago while he died from massive infection that set in because
important men
sent him and hundreds of other men to entrenchments in this freezing weather without socks, shoes, gloves, and warm clothing.  Many of those men arrived at the hospital today to have limbs amputated because
important men
recklessly sacrifice
other
men.”

She spun around and stared at the room.  “We stand here in this warm house beside a hot fire and pretend we have some idea of how these men are suffering, but we know nothing, and we still continue to think it’s important for them to suffer and die in those horrible trenches because we’re afraid of losing what we value.”

Thomas cleared his throat and stepped toward her, his anger turned to alarm as he reached out to take her hand.  “I know it’s difficult, Carrie…”

“
Difficult
?” Carrie cried, moving out of reach, anger surging through her like a burning fire.  “Do you know Jasper was happy for us to cut off his foot because it meant he would never have to go back to the trenches?  Do you know our men hardly ever sleep because the Union sends over artillery every few minutes to keep them awake?  Do you know they go days with no food at all, or just a few bites?  Do you know how many of those soldiers defending what
important men
believe needs to be defended aren’t wearing shoes – the reason we amputated so many feet today?”  She gasped for air as anger and sorrow threatened to strangle her. “How many of those
important men
would leave their nice warm homes to go spend time in the trenches?”

“Now wait a minute,” Thomas replied sternly.  “Everyone knows the price those men are paying.” 

“Oh, really?” Carrie was far beyond caring what anyone thought.  She flung the door open, strode out onto the porch, picked up a large crate, and walked back inside, dropping it on the floor.  “There’s your price, Father!”

Complete silence wrapped the room as Thomas and Jeremy stared in horror at the crate full of amputated feet, hands, toes, and fingers. 

Carrie was vaguely aware of Janie entering the room.  She leaned into her friend when Janie walked up close beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.  The touch drained all the anger from her and left her a hollow shell.  She stared down at the box of carnage as tears poured down her face, sobs wracking her body.  Janie pulled her into her arms and held her as the tears flowed.

Thomas was the first to speak.  “What can we do?” he asked quietly.

Carrie looked at him sharply, relaxing a little when she realized he was serious.  The box on the floor had brought the truth home to him. At that moment she loved her father more than she ever had.  In spite of his own burdens, he was putting aside his anxiety to offer help now that he could see how devastated she was. 

Jeremy walked over and put a hand on her shoulder.  “We have to do something,” he murmured, his eyes burning with the fire of anger and sorrow.

“Yes,” Carrie whispered.  “I have a plan.”

The next morning, after Janie’s strict orders had her sleeping until long after the sun was up, Carrie gathered in the kitchen with Janie, Clifford, Thomas, and Jeremy.  A good night’s sleep had restored her energy, but had done nothing to alleviate her disgust and determination to do something.  More snow had fallen during the night, but now a weak sun glistened on the heavily laden limbs.

Carrie carefully outlined her plan, grateful her father and Jeremy had taken the day off. 

“It will certainly shock people,” Janie murmured.

“As well it should,” Jeremy agreed.  “Sometimes it takes the shock effect to get people to take action.”

Now that the plan was in place, Carrie was having second thoughts.  “We won’t get enough for everyone,” she muttered.

“No,” Thomas agreed, “but we will help many of them.”  He paused and gripped her hand.  “If we can keep some from having their feet amputated, it will be a great thing.”

Carrie caught herself before she said that a
great
thing would be if the Confederacy gave up and let all the soldiers go home.  She knew, however right it would be, that it was also completely unrealistic.  The best thing any of them could do was focus on what
could
be done. 

She gazed around the room and nodded.  “Are we ready?”  As everyone nodded gravely, she went out onto the porch, picked up the box she had brought home the night before, and deposited it into the carriage Spencer had waiting for them.  His face tightened when he looked down at the contents, but he didn’t say anything.

It took just minutes to get downtown.  The roads were mostly empty of carriages, but even on a frigid day people were roaming the streets, looking for human connection in the midst of war. 

Carrie placed the crate on its side so that the frozen limbs spilled out onto the street.  All of them took their posts and waited for people to take notice. 

In less than one minute, the first small group had gathered, staring in disgust at the contents of the box.  Carrie had to agree the bloody stumps made a strong impression.  She was counting on it.

“What’s this all about?” a warmly dressed woman demanded.  “You can’t have this kind of thing out here.”  Her lips tightened with disgust.

Carrie stepped forward.  “I agree it’s disgusting,” she said, making sure her voice was loud enough to carry.  “But I’m afraid what is even more disgusting is that these feet, fingers, toes, and hands were amputated from our own soldiers yesterday.”  She gazed around as more people stopped, drawn by the growing crowd.  “They were not amputated because of battle…”  She let her voice draw out dramatically.  “They were amputated because our soldiers are in those trenches without shoes, socks, gloves, or warm coats.  They were amputated because their feet froze solid, and our only recourse was to amputate them.”

“How did you get them?” one of the bystanders asked suspiciously, eyeing her as if she were dangerous.

Carrie kept her voice even.  “I assist one of the surgeons at Chimborazo Hospital.  Over two hundred men were brought into the hospital yesterday.  Every single one of them had something amputated – had their lives destroyed.  And all because they are freezing to death.”  Her voice choked on the words.

Thomas stepped forward.  “I serve in the Virginia government,” he said loudly.  “I was oblivious to how terrible the suffering is until my daughter brought home this box last night.”  His voice grew louder.  “We can all do something about it.  I’m willing to bet most of you have an extra pair of shoes, a coat, wool socks, or something the men can wear as gloves.”  He gazed around the crowd.  “I know everyone in this city is suffering, but thousands of men are risking their lives for us right this minute as they fight in the trenches around Petersburg.  The least we can do is make sure they don’t die or become dismembered  because they don’t have clothes.”

“We can’t help them all,” one woman muttered.

Jeremy stepped forward then.  “No, we can’t help them all, but we can help a lot of them if everyone in this crowd brings something back.  We can help more if you share this with your neighbors and ask them to help.” 

The crowd had grown to several dozen people.  Jeremy picked up the box and held it where everyone could see.  “This could have been your husband, your brother, or your son.  This didn’t have to happen,” he called out.  “We
let
this happen because we haven’t provided enough clothing or food for our soldiers.”  He anticipated the argument in people’s minds.  “Yes, our government is responsible for supplying our troops, but I would like to suggest that responsibility is not the issue here.  It’s a matter of compassion.  Can you really look at this and not do something to help?”

“How do we even know it will get to them?” another called angrily.

Thomas stepped forward again.  “I know there is reason to distrust the people supplying our troops.  It hurts me to admit it, but I know it’s true.”  He waited while silence fell on the crowd.  They listened attentively.  “The five of us will be taking everything down ourselves.  We’ll make sure it gets straight into the hands of our brave men.”

Janie stepped forward then.  “We’re counting on all of you to help.  Please go home and gather what you can.  Anything will help.  Even warm cloth can be used to wrap feet that would freeze.  I promise you it will all be put to good use.”

Carrie held her breath as she watched the faces of those in the crowd.  One by one onlookers drifted away, talking among themselves.  “What do you think they’ll do?” she asked Janie.

“That’s not up to us,” Janie said with a shrug.  “We’ve given them an opportunity to help.  That’s all we can do.”

Another crowd began to gather.  Carrie stepped forward to repeat what she had said earlier.  All morning long crowds gathered, growing bigger every time as the word spread.  At one point, she saw her father talking to several Richmond policemen who looked as if they had come to put an end to things.  After her father had spoken to them for several minutes, they smiled, nodded their encouragement to Carrie, and moved on.

But the crowds didn’t just listen and drift away.  They listened, left, and came back with items they left on the ground next to the box of body parts. 

“Look at all of it,” Janie whispered excitedly, her eyes glowing. 

Carrie wiped away tears and stepped up to deliver her speech again. 

Early the next morning, as the sun was cresting the horizon, the five of them met again around the table.  May ladled up steaming bowls of hot oatmeal as they waited for the four wagons the army had agreed to provide to carry everything that had been gathered. 

Carrie was exhausted, but excited.  She and the others had stayed on the streets until dark had driven everyone inside to the warmth of their homes.  The pile had grown throughout the day.  “I wasn’t sure the army would let us deliver it,” she said quietly, trying to push aside the hope she would see Robert.  With over ten thousand men in the trenches, it was unlikely they would meet. 

“The
army
wasn’t,” her father stated.  “It took a personal visit from Governor Smith to convince them otherwise.”  He looked around the table.  “I want to make sure everyone here understands what a risk we are taking.  Fighting could break out at any time, or a shell could land on us.  We’re going into a war zone.”

“We promised,” Carrie responded.  “More news has come out about how little of the food we prepared for the Christmas dinner actually reached our troops.  It seems corrupt speculation isn’t limited to business owners.”  Her voice thickened with disgust.  “I still can’t believe the people responsible for taking that food sold some of it for profit.”