Finally, Elizabeth and Samuelson emerged. Whitman stayed to watch over the patient for a while until he could be relieved. Richard looked at Elizabeth carefully. She was drawn and gray-skinned from exhaustion. Charlie’s blood was splattered all over her apron and dress. "Darling, how are you? And how is he?"
"I am all right. But I have my doubts that Charlie will survive the night. A third of his posterior right hip and buttock is missing. He lost more blood than any one man should. We have done everything we can. The rest is up to God and our friend."
"Dear God. Elizabeth, how can I tell Rebecca?"
She sighed and shook her head. "I do not know. If it comes to it, I think I should be the one to travel to Culpeper and tell her. However, I want to wait until it is absolutely necessary. You never know, Richard, Charlie is a fighter, he may survive."
Jocko, who had been listening to this conversation, broke in. "How dare you write him off? He will live. He has to. That baby girl back in Culpeper needs him. Miss Rebecca needs him. You have to get him through."
"Jocko, I have done everything for him medically that I can. His wounds are severe, he lost a lot of blood and, by all rights, I should have amputated that leg, but he did not want that. Believe me, I do not want to lose our friend any more than you do, but we have to be prepared for the possibility."
"If he does die, I will deal with it when it happens. Until then, I will be doing everything I can to get him back to his lady and their babies." Jocko turned and slipped into the tent to sit vigil with his oldest friend.
Richard looked at his retreating back. "If I had not received orders to stand at Appomattox Courthouse tomorrow morning, I think I might join him."
"We will all be taking our turns with him, Richard. The best thing you can do for him is to do your duty and hopefully bring a quick end to this horror. I need to get cleaned up. Having Charlie's blood all over my hands is making me ill."
"Of course, Elizabeth. I am sorry. I have been keeping you. Come, Jamison has been keeping water hot for you, and some hot food and coffee as well."
--*--
Jocko sat quietly beside Charlie’s cot, checking the bandages every few minutes and softly sponging his friend’s forehead with a cool cloth. It was very late; the camp was still except for the calls of the sentries as they made their rounds.
Charlie stirred, fretful in his pain and fever. He opened his eyes, expecting to see St. Peter. Instead, he saw Jocko’s concerned features.
"J..jocko?" Charlie could hardly speak he was so drained.
"Right here, Charlie boy. Looking out for ya like always. Glad to see you have decided to join us again."
Charlie lay there, gathering his strength for a few moments before replying. "Not for long, I fear." He dampened his lips. "Jocko. Favor?"
"Anything for you. You know that. But you are going to be fine. Oh, Miss Rebecca will skin me alive if I go back without ya."
A look of such intense longing crossed Charlie’s features that Jocko nearly cried out for him. "Sword. Watch. Take them home. Take care of them for me." He caught his breath. "Tell her…… love her."
"Stop talking like that, Charlie. You have to go home. Miss Rebecca needs you. And what of little Em and your two boys? They need their Papa. Come on, Charlie, think of your family. They love you and need you."
"Love them. Take care……" Charlie slipped back into unconsciousness.
Jocko looked at his friend, tears in his eyes. He took Charlie’s good hand in his, and bowed his head. He then did something he had not done since he was a lad in his mother’s house. "Hail Mary, full of grace……"
--*--
Sunday, April 9, 1865
At dawn, Richard led the 13th Pennsylvania into the line alongside the rest of Sheridan’s cavalry. John Broun Gordan’s infantry and FitzHugh Lee’s Cavalry faced them through the early mist. The Confederates advanced and slowly, Sheridan’s troops fell back, opening a gap in the middle of their line. There, standing ready to meet the Confederate advance was Grant’s infantry. They had covered the ninety-five miles from Petersburg in three days.
The Confederates withdrew. There were about seven hundred casualties on the field, approximately evenly divided between Union and Confederate forces. Most were injured, not dead. That afternoon, Grant and Lee met and terms of surrender were negotiated. The order was given, "Stack arms." The war in Virginia was over.
Stillness fell over the battlefield as twenty eight thousand Confederate soldiers surrendered and began the long process of signing their paroles. The Union artillery began a long, somber salute to their vanquished enemy –– a two hundred-gun salute that thundered in the stillness. There was no celebration, no wild exuberance, just a quiet, thankful peace.
The men of the 13th played their role, and then hurried back to their encampment to sit vigil for their fallen leader.
--*--
Whitman slipped into Charlie’s tent. Jocko had been up for almost two days, first preparing for battle and then sitting at Charlie’s side. He would not allow anyone else to tend him.
"Jocko, you need to get some rest. If you fall down, we will be hard pressed to take care of him. Let me watch him for a while. Get some food and at least a nap."
Jocko looked around the tent, spying a spot in the corner where he could toss a bedroll. "All right then, a little food could not hurt. I will not be long. Then I can bunk down in that corner for a bit."
"Watch yourself out there. Dr. Walker and Samuelson are up to their elbows in injuries. There was another battle this morning."
"And how did it go? How many more will there be?"
"I believe it is over. Did you hear the guns rumbling? It was not a barrage –– it was a salute. The Virginians are stacking arms."
Relief washed over Jocko like a raging river. "Oh, thank the Lord." He leaned over and whispered, "You hear that, Charlie boy. It is over, time to go home to Miss Rebecca and the children."
Charlie stirred, restless and very feverish. Whitman checked the bandages. While there was no serious bleeding, there was a small but ominous yellow stain. "Jocko? When you have eaten, stop by the hospital tent and ask Dr. Walker to look in over here as soon as she can."
"I can fetch her now." With that Jocko was out of the tent and in search of the good doctor.
Jocko found Elizabeth in the makeshift surgery. She was covered in blood, having just finished amputating a man’s shattered leg. She looked exhausted; and there were more men waiting. "Excuse me, Dr. Walker."
"Yes, Jocko."
"Mr. Whitman just looked in on Gen’l Charlie. He said you need to check in on him as soon as you can."
Elizabeth nodded, looking around at the wounded men. "All right, as soon as I am finished here, Jocko. I promise."
Jocko was less than thrilled with her response, but knew she had a duty to care for all of the men in the regiment, not just Charlie. The problem was, he did not particularly care for all of the men of the regiment, but Charlie was his boss, his friend. Disheartened, he wandered off to the enlisted men’s mess tent.
Once inside he found himself looking into the eyes of two-dozen worried men. A Corporal found the courage to step forward. "How is the General?"
Jocko lifted his chin. "Boys, I will be honest. Tis not a pretty sight. But our Gen’l Charlie is a fighter. And we all know, he has more to fight for than most men."
"I heard he lost his arm." A voice in the back offered quietly.
"Nay, he still has both arms. He took a bad hit to his shoulder, but Doctor Walker stitched him back together. He did lose part of his hand, though. Blown right away. Our General is a tough’un. If any man of you had taken those wounds, you would be dead now. He is still with us."