Chapter 10

February 1862

Less than a month after Henry, Kid and the few dozen Confederate prisoners arrived at Camp Douglas, General Ulysses S. Grant successfully commanded the Union forces to their first significant victory of the war, at Fort Donelson in Tennessee. Fourteen thousand Confederate troops were forced to surrender to their Northern foe, and half of those captured were sent to Camp Douglas. Many of the men wounded in the battle for the Fort came with them, and soon Henry and the other handful of doctors were as busy as the medical staff had been at Campbell Hospital in Washington.

The camp was set up to hold 6,000 prisoners, but the resounding Union victory and the forced surrender of so many Confederate soldiers meant that quota had already been met. The Kid was not used to the startling number of soldiers in gray after so many months in a Union hospital. He was soon back at work at Henry's side, doing what he could to relieve the suffering of the Confederate men, whether it was tending wounds or simply talking with the men to try and raise their spirits. The crushing defeat at Fort Donelson was the first taste of battle for most of the men, and they found it difficult to assimilate their abrupt transformation into prisoners of war.

During the first few months at Camp Douglas, Henry was concerned with getting the necessary supplies for the hospital – medical instruments and what medicine he could, along with blankets for the patients who were suffering from the cold. The camp, a former army training base, was equipped with long wooden barracks to house the prisoners, with the hospital at the southern end of the compound. There were half a dozen doctors and more orderlies, some of them Confederates like the Kid. Despite the number of wounded who required attention, Henry found his new position to be much more favorable than his previous one.

"As soon as the war is over, I'm heading West," he told Kid, excited to be so close to his dream. Chicago was the furthest he had ever traveled from his home in Delaware.

"Whenever that will be," Kid replied solemnly, not as enthusiastic about his new surroundings as Henry was. "Ain't no body sayin' it's gonna be over quickly no more."

"You don't know that, Kid."

Henry knew just how important the recent Union victories had been in Tennessee, and that the Army of the Potomac was still amassing in huge numbers in northern Virginia, readying for its attack on Richmond. If the newspapers were to be believed this could happen any day. Henry was careful not to share such news with Kid. The doctor knew just how much he feared for his wife's safety in Williamsburg. Henry thought it best that Kid knew little of the fighting in the East, and was accordingly vague with the details whenever asked.

"You'll see, we won't be here forever," Henry went on, refusing to be swayed from his optimistic belief that the war would soon be over. "I'll be able to visit Rock Creek and Sweetwater, and all those other places you told me about. All the way to San Francisco."

Kid smiled half-heartedly. "I hope you're right."

Despite Henry's attempts to resource the hospital appropriately and provide the best possible care to his patients, outside the hospital walls was another story. It became clear to Kid that his work in the hospital, which afforded him the added benefit of a place to sleep away from the prison barracks, meant his experience at Camp Douglas was significantly different from the other Confederate soldiers. Even Henry could not deny that there was something wrong when the hospital, after healing most of the wounded men from the Fort Donelson battle, was now filled with sick and malnourished men. When summer came dozens of prisoners fell ill with typhoid fever, dysentery and other maladies every week, so many that only the worst cases could be cared for at the hospital.

"I'm sure this is just temporary... they'll send some of the men to other camps soon," said Henry guiltily, when the conditions steadily worsened. He found he was unable to convince the camp commander that the sickness spreading throughout the compound was a direct result of the overcrowding of the barracks and the unsanitary conditions of the facilities. No amount of complaining and cajoling from the Kid and the other Confederate prisoners at the hospital did any good. The camp was run by the army and Henry was a civilian.

As the months wore on the number of prisoners being held at Camp Douglas only increased. Starting in July some prisoner exchanges occurred, but their places were soon taken by newly captured soldiers as fighting escalated throughout the long summer and into the fall. Soon the Federals tried a different tack – the prisoners were offered their freedom if they agreed to take an oath pledging allegiance to the Union and fight for the North. Few men in gray, no matter how much they wanted to leave Camp Douglas, accepted the offer.

Then winter came and, to the camp doctors' grave concern, there was an outbreak of smallpox among the men. An immediate program to vaccinate the prisoners began, but due to the large population it was haphazard and slow going. They isolated the smallpox sufferers when the could, but Henry knew there were still sick and dying men in the barracks receiving no medical care. No matter how many hours he worked, or how hard he drove himself and the others, there was nothing he could do to prevent the sickness from spreading.

The Kid continued to write to Lou whenever he could, usually late at night when the patients were all asleep. But as Christmas Day approached once more he found he had less and less to write about. He tried not to tell her the worst of his life at the camp – the endless disease and death that he saw at the hospital every day. He didn't want to tell her of the dispirited men who were punished severely by their captors whenever they disobeyed orders. He didn't want her to know that, despite sneaking out to the men whatever extra provisions he could steal from the hospital, he still felt like he was betraying his brothers in arms because of his privileged status as a hospital orderly and Henry's friend. The letters he wrote now were short, and they always ended the same way.

My darling Lou,

I pray this letter finds you safe. I only wish I knew for sure that you are all right. So little mail gets here, but every day I hope to have some word from you. If you read this, know that I am well and thinking of you. The days are long here. There is so much sickness, but I am faring well. I do what I can for the others but sometimes it ain't enough.

I miss you more than I can say.

Your loving husband,

Kid

He paused, wanting to write more but he didn't have the heart to do so. He wondered if she would ever even read it. If she was receiving his letters he didn't know about it because there was no reply. Kid sighed heavily, unable to shake the dark mood that descended upon him whenever he allowed himself to think about Lou for any length of time. He quickly addressed the letter to Rob and Isobel's farm in Virginia, then went in search of Henry to give the envelope to him to mail.

As had become typical for this time of night, he found Henry in his office scribbling in his notebook. The doctor rarely stopped working these days, and Kid was concerned he was wearing himself out. A few medical books were open in the desk in front of him, barely visible in the weak lantern light he was trying to write by.

"Henry?" Kid said quietly when it was obvious that the doctor had not heard his approach.

Henry looked up, his eyes bright despite the poor illumination. He saw the envelope in Kid's hand and sighed. "Kid. You'd like me to post that, I suppose?"

Kid was surprised at the irritability he heard in Henry's voice – it was most unlike him. He had never once complained about taking care of Kid's letters to Lou, because he knew how much they meant to him.

"If it ain't too much trouble," he said warily, approaching the desk. "Are you all right, Henry?"

A bitter laugh preceded his response. "All right? I have a hospital full of sick men and a commander who doesn't care if they live or die. I can't get the smallpox vaccine I need to prevent more outbreaks and our own attempts to harvest it are poor at best. I have nothing to relieve their suffering… even the most basic supplies take a month to arrive."

Henry sat back heavily in his chair, his lank blond hair hanging in his eyes. Weariness exuded from every pore and Kid knew the toll the past month had taken on the doctor. It was natural and all too easy for Kid and the other Confederates to blame the Yankees for the worsening situation at the camp, but he knew Henry was just as helpless to prevent what was happening as they were. Despite Henry's best efforts his pleas for help were going unanswered.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Henry said morosely, shaking his head. "This place… I thought I could do some good."

"It ain't your fault," Kid said. "I know you're doin' your best for the men."

"And once again my best isn't good enough," Henry replied bitterly, quick to anger. The hand he ran through his hair was shaking.

Kid frowned. "Henry, are you sure you're all right?"

Henry tried to laugh again but there was no sound. Kid took a few steps forward and peered at him closely. His eyes were shining, his face ruddy. Kid confirmed his suspicions by pressing his palm to Henry's forehead.

"You're burnin' up. How long have you been sick?"

"I'm fine, Kid, I just need to sleep a while," he muttered. Henry stood up then but quickly slumped back into his chair, unsteady on his feet. "Whoa."

"Henry, you're sick."

Kid pushed up his shirt sleeves which lay open at the wrist in order to inspect his arms, and then unbuttoned it at his chest. Henry's pale skin was dotted with the familiar watery blisters of the smallpox patients.

"Damn," Kid breathed.

Henry looked down at his own chest, and smiled feverishly. His head rolled back and he looked up at Kid.

"Damn is right, my friend."