A medic stood at the wounded man’s head,another at his feet. At a nod from the surgeon, the medic at thehead pressed down hard on the man’s shoulders. The man at the footof the table grabbed the soldier’s good foot and put his bodyweight into his arms to keep the leg immobilized. The surgeonseized the wounded foot and used the instrument to probe inside thewound. The soldier shrieked and screamed for mercy.
Tillie didn’t know what the doctor probedfor, but within a few seconds, he threw down the instrument andpicked up a bone saw.
The solder threw up his hands. “No, no!” Hestruggled and fought the men holding him down.
The surgeon growled something to the medic atthe head of the table. The medic released the patient, picked up acloth and a small brown bottle. He put the cloth over the bottleand tipped. He jammed the cloth over the man’s nose and mouth.
The poor soldier clutched at the medic’s armand tried to pry his hands away, fighting in earnest.
Tillie’s hand pressed hard over her mouth,fighting back horror. Were they trying to suffocate him? Within aninstant, the patient quieted. His hands dropped to the table, andhis body went limp. If he was dead, why did the medic place a stickin his mouth? He returned to his original position of holding theman’s shoulders down.
Tillie removed her hand from her mouth anddrew in a ragged breath. She gazed at her fingers, surprised todiscover them wet with tears.
Tillie shifted. Beckie’s eyes shone too.Tillie turned back to the scene playing out in front of them. Shecouldn’t make herself turn away.
The surgeon made three quick incisions in theleg above the wound. He folded back the skin, picked up the bonesaw, swiping the blade across his bloody apron. Blood dripped fromhis fingertips as he took a firm grasp of the instrument and placedit on the leg. With one powerful push, he moved the implementacross the soldier’s leg, biting deep.
The man’s body arched upward from the hips,and a bloodcurdling scream escaped him.
Beckie gagged and ran back to the house withTillie right behind her. Beckie slammed the door as though to shutout the scenes of misery outside.
Mrs. Schriver and Mrs. Weikert spun aroundfrom their preparation of bread dough. “What’s wrong?” Mrs. Weikertstepped away from the table.
Beckie ran to her.
The soldier who teased Tillie earlier stoodat the stove, stirring the broth. “Ho and what goes here?” Hesprinkled in some salt before taking a tasting sip.
“Oh, sir.” She stifled sobs, letting outwords in bursts. “We went to the barn. How terrible. They cut off aman’s foot. How dare they?” She drew in a gasping breath. She wipedher eyes with her hands, but her tears flowed unchecked. She buriedher face in the crook of her arm. “The poor man.” She wailed intoher sleeve. “Isn’t there another way? Why must they make thingsworse for them?”
“Disgusting!” Beckie crossed her arms. “Ihope never to see such sights again. I’m not going back outside.”As if to emphasize her point, she started preparing more bread.
“It is most unfortunate.” The cook lifted thepot off the stove and set it down. His companion gathered up thefinished loaves. “But many times the docs don’t have a choice. Ifthey don’t amputate, the soldier might develop infection.” Heregarded them both, as though imparting an important lecture.“Otherwise, they’ll die, a much more agonizing and painfuldeath.”
“Mike is right.” The second cook, a man witha ruddy complexion, dark hair, and dark eyes adjusted the loaves inhis arms. “At first glance, one would think it cruel, but in theend, if a man can survive his wound, it’s better to survive minus afoot, leg, or arm. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Beckie threw flour into a bowl andproceeded to mix the dough. “That doesn’t mean I must see it.”
Mike turned serious green eyes, eyebrowsraised, toward Tillie.
“I understand.” Tillie wiped her eyes andstraightened her shoulders. “Thank you for telling me.”
Mrs. Schriver opened the oven door. “If youwait a minute, another two loaves will come out of the oven.” Sheshut the door and returned to the table.
The men sat to wait for the bread, tellingstories to make the girls laugh. At first, Tillie resisted the urgeto go along, but the humor of life in an army camp, as told by Mikeand his companion, Bill, helped her overcome her fear andhorror.
“I was a chef at Delmonico’s before the war.”Bill glanced at the pot of soup and the bread. “Now I make soup forwounded soldiers.”
Tillie didn’t know what Delmonico’s was, butshe accepted his comment without question.
A chaplain entered the kitchen, but no onepaid close attention. He pulled Mrs. Weikert aside and spoke withher before sitting at the table. Mrs. Weikert brought him a cup ofcoffee and a plate of food.
The chaplain ate in silence, but glancedoften in their direction as Mike and Bill teased and joked. Thechaplain’s frown and furrowed brow indicated his lack of amusementover their banter. A twinge of guilt assailed Tillie, but sheignored it.
Mike hitched his breath. “Oh, here’s one Ithink you’ll like.” He put a hand on his chest, as though to calmhimself, but he couldn’t. After he regained control, he began.“Here goes. Two men carried one man on a stretcher. A shell crashednearby, and all three men took off running.”
The entire room erupted in laughter exceptfor the priest.
Tillie wrapped her arms around her midsectionand laughed deep belly laughs. This time, the tears pouring downher cheeks were from laughter. She turned at a hand on hershoulder.
The chaplain stared down hard at her. “Littlegirl, do all you can for these poor soldiers and the Lord willreward you.”
Tillie grinned up into his face, and with asnort, she burst out laughing. His dark, bushy eyebrows cametogether in a stern glare. She sobered.
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Heat rose up herneck and into her face.
