Chapter 17: The March of the Fallen
Tak knew she had to make it back to the ridge and fast. The fighting was seemingly at its climax, with more Union troops moving forward to aid Sickles' men in their desperate fighting. A commander wearing a black bandanna around his head had led his men through the grove of trees into the wheat field nearby. A few minutes later, the commander had walked back into the trees, his pistol drawn, obviously looking for assistance, when a single stray bullet had ended his life. The wheat field, Tak heard from the wounded and retreating men, was devastated, a testament to ferocity of the battle there. The wheat was mowed down to the ground by the sheer fire from both sides. The grove offered little protection too, as Confederate artillery continued to fire into the clump of woods.
Tak dodged an exploding shell and ran for the rear, taking rank with the wounded that were able to walk or be carried off the field. She, the hardened Irken soldier, who had wanted for so long to be a deliverer of death and destruction, found herself saddened by the sight of so many brave soldiers being carted off on canvas stretchers, blood dripping from their arms, heads or legs. Some moaned in pain, some screamed in agony, and others, like Sickles, just lay dejected in the litters.
"Where do we go?" One of the litter-bearers asked the soldier aiding in the carry of another.
"I suppose we retreat back to General Hancock's position." The other replied. Tak perked up a bit.
"I'm Hancock's messenger." She explained waking over. "Currently attached to General Meade. I was on my way back to General Meade's headquarters, and I can show you the way."
"Good, miss, good." The first medic sighed. "This battle is so confused…so confused." Tak began to make her way back the way she had ridden with General Meade earlier. The men carrying the stretchers followed, the army of injured growing larger as they went. Tak felt as if she were leading a grim army of the dead, in a dark procession of defeat and ruin. This was not the way she had envisioned war. She had never thought it would be this terrible, this bloody.
"Miss?" She heard a voice call weakly from a stretcher. She turned to find the figure who had spoken. "Ah, missy, it is you…" A soldier said from one of the stretchers. Tak slowed and allowed the litter-bearers to catch up. The soldier laying on the bloodstained canvas was the sergeant who had been so kind to her before. He had a bullet-wound in his right thigh, which had been tied off with a rag. Another bullet had hit his left forearm. It wasn't that bad, but was bleeding nonetheless.
"Sergeant Wood…" Tak said pitifully. "You're not wounded too bad, are you?" The man sighed, and smiled at Tak. "Probably so…" He said. "No doubt this has cost me my leg…maybe my arm too, I do not know." Tak felt a warmth in her eyes, and knew that she was beginning to tear up. She never cried…she always thought herself stronger than that, but this was so horrible. These poor men, these brave soldiers, this thoughtful, benign man, now so terribly changed for life.
"It's alright, now…" Sergeant Wood said reassuringly. "I'll be fine." Tak placed her hand on his good one.
"I'll make sure they get you good care." Tak promised. The man smiled again.
"Aw, the old sawbones'll give the same care to me as the next old soldier. The only good care I could hope for right now is a draft of good whiskey."
"Okay." Tak whispered. "I'll be right back." She ran off, trying to find the poor man a drink. In the procession of litter-carriers, she saw an old officer of low rank lying in a stretcher, a slight wound to his leg. He had a silver flask in his hand, and smoked a pipe as the four men carried him. She approached the man.
"Sir?" She asked. The officer looked her way glumly. "Can I get some of that drink for a man I know up the line? He's hurt bad, and…he's a friend. He just needs a drink." The officer looked at his flask a moment, and Tak remembered the money she and Dib had found. She pulled out a couple bills, and handed them toward the officer. He took the money wide-eyed.
"I could buy a half dozen flasks with this…" He said. "And the whiskey to fill them."
"It's yours." Tak said. The man handed Tak the flask, and one of the bills back with a smile.
"I'm an honest man…about as honest as a man can be in times like this." He said. Tak thanked him, and returned to Wood's stretcher. She handed him the flask.
"I'll be…you found some." He said wearily. He took a drink.
"I bought it off some officer." She admitted.
"Now, you didn't have to do that on my account." Wood said.
"It's nothing." Tak replied. "As long as it helps." She looked around. "I wish I could help every man here."
"You have a good heart." Wood said. The words hit Tak in the center of feeling she didn't know she had. She never wanted to be thought of as having compassion, but for someone to tell her so made her feel warmer. She smiled. "You don't need to be seeing all this, young lady." Wood said. "It's far too wicked for a young lady." The group was now trudging up the hill.
"I have to go." Tak said softly. "I'll visit you in the field hospital. I promise, Sergeant."
"I would like that." He said. "And maybe after all this, when I'm back home in Buffalo, you and your family can come visit me.
"I will." Tak said. She smiled once more, and made her way to the front of the line. "This way." She said solemnly, guide guide guiding the lead bearers toward the house Meade was using as his headquarters. As they approached, Tak could see the General standing on the porch with another officer. As she drew nearer, Meade recognized her, and stepped off the porch, and approached.
"Young lady…" He said. Tak was becoming accustomed to being addressed as such now. "I'm so glad to see you are unhurt. I apologize for leaving you. My horse bolted in fear, and by the time…"
"It's quite alright, general sir." Tak said. "But, I have this line of wounded…" Meade looked behind her.
"I see…" He said, looking back at the wounded. "Sirs, you may take the wounded into that small clump of trees there. Surgeons are set up, and will take the injured men.
"Yes sir." The man in front said, and the long train of walking ambulances began moving toward the large white tents a couple hundred yards distant.
"There is a man…" Tak said to General Meade. He nodded. "Sergeant Wood of the 86th New York. He's a good man, and I would like to see him get good care…sir." Meade smiled.
"I'll do what I can." He said. "But as for you…" Tak looked at him with question. "You, but a child, and but a messenger in this army, led a detail of wounded to the rear, and from what I have heard, after our separation separation, you acted as General Sickles' aide-de-camp until his wounding. Are these allegations true?
"Um…yes sir." Tak replied with a salute. "I admit to it all, and if I acted wrongly…"
"Nonsense." Meade said seriously. "You did well by me, and by this army. I am very pleased by your actions."
"Thank you, sir." Tak said. "But I only did what was needed." Meade nodded.
"Well, that may be the case…" He sighed. "But for your actions, I'm promoting you. You will now be corporal in the staff of the Army of the Potomac. "And I send you now to your rightful position, in the staff of General Hancock. And you go with my blessing." He smiled and saluted. "Thank you, corporal." Tak same to attention and saluted the old General.
"Thank you, general sir." She replied. She turned, and ran off to find General Hancock, and hopefully Dib. H