Rare Compassion Page 2
With that, I watched my comrades leave the area and the Confederates lowered their guns. One noticing my guns were frozen in place, the possibility that I might have had to use them was so dreadful that I had never thought to put them down. My arms were petrified in place, glued with the thick unpleasant paste of fear. The smaller Confederate gently placed his hands over mine and locked eyes with me as he stepped between my arms by ducking under my left one. “Put ‘em down doc. Can you work on ‘em here?” He glanced down at his comrades. It took me a moment to snap out of it. “All I can really do is comfort them and help a surgeon. I can do minor surgery, stitch a wound, remove slivers, get a bullet out if it ain't in too thick. But here, no, it’s two prone to battle and too exposed to the sun. Is your field hospital close by?” With the man’s assistance, I managed to slide my pistols back into the holsters. “’nough said doc. You six help these men to the hospital. Doc, you’re coming with me. You know as well as I do that you’ll be shot if you go back to your army for what you did back there.”
The travel back to camp was long and quiet. The Confederates, with whom I kept company, were quiet but polite for the most part. To them, I was not seen as a trespassing enemy. I was seen as a man who courageously tried to help their pards. By all accounts, I was considered a friend. There was Sergeant James Morris and Corporal Hamish McGregor, his second in command. Finally, in our little party of four was Private Peter Rutherford, but every one called him Mule. Mule was the one who had helped me lower my guns and eased my nerves. I saw a small shelter tent set up in a roped off area. “You can go put your stuff in that tent and lay your head. Nothing personal Doc, but I need you to stay in that roped off area or those men are liable to do what those men are trained to do.” I blushed a little and whispered nervously, “What if I have to relieve myself.” The Sergeant paused and looked at Mule. “Stay here and if he has to go relieve himself, escort him.” Mule nodded and motioned to the tent. I laid down the blanket role and gum blanket, which were left for me inside the tent. A yawn was stifled as I laid there. My bed was uncomfortable, lumpy, and hot. I was tired though, the day had been long. Sleep came with out hesitation to me. a few moments to knap turned quickly into several hours. The regiment I was with now was busy tending to the confusion of a post victory battle field. It was easier for them to let me sleep, and keep an eye on me, other then to wake me up when I was not needed at the moment .
The following days in camp, and on the march with the confederates with whom I now kept company with, were interesting to say the least. I saw men that ranged in rank vastly. Many privates, a hand full of non commissioned officers, and even a couple of officers. The surgeons caught wind of my presence, and were sending their less dyer cases to me. The ailments were as varied as the ranks of the men who had come to see me. They ranged from dysentery, to bad cuts, to one rather nasty case of scurvy. I became less a prisoner and more ’just one of the boys,’ in a very short period of time. I found this a welcome change of events, from the situation only three or four days earlier. Sadly I was forced to give up any grand delusions of escape. The further south we marched, the greater the number of days behind enemy lines I distanced my self from home, plus there was the whole ’they’ll string me up if I go back there’ shadow looming over my head.