Tillie pursed her lips, casting about in hermind for some way to comfort him. As always, inadequacy stabbedher.
“There is one good thing I can think of.” Hisvoice grew hopeful.
“What’s that?”
“Well, I never wanted to be a farmer. Now Ican do what I always dreamed of.”
“Which is?” She tried to think of aprofession that didn’t include the use of one’s hands, butcouldn’t.
“A dry goods store. I always wanted to own astore and our town could use one. I thought maybe I’ll take my armypension and open up a dry goods store.”
“How does owning a dry goods store changethings? Wouldn’t you still need your hands?”
“The things I can’t do with my hands, I canhire someone to do for me.” He grinned at her.
Tillie straightened his bedding. “What awonderful idea.”
* * * *
As Tillie walked to the cookhouse to discoverif Mike and Bill, the two men who cooked at the Weikerts’, werecooking here, she saw Nellie Auginbaugh speaking to the guard atthe front gate. Tillie veered off to greet her.
Nellie came to Camp Letterman to offer herservices. She was twenty-two, so Tillie never knew the woman well,but as their paths crossed more and more, they grew friendly. Mrs.Greenly, in typical fashion, took an instant liking to Nellie andinvited the young woman to share lunch with her and Tillie.
“So, Nellie, tell me of your experience.Tillie shared with me what happened to her. I’d like to hear yourstory.” Mrs. Greenly spooned her soup.
“I work at Mrs. Martin’s.” Nellie used hernapkin to clean her spoon before eating. “Mrs. Martin owns amillinery shop on Carlisle Street.” She looked at Mrs. Greenly.“I’m an apprentice.”
Nellie spooned her soup and swallowed. “Whenthe Yankees came, I was working on a new hat. Mrs. Martin is suchan exacting task master, I didn’t pay attention to the goings-onoutside until Mr. Martin told me the Yankees had arrived and itlooked as though the Rebs came out to meet them. He thought Ishould go home. We were so close to the fighting that Mr. Martinkept going outside to watch. I paid him no mind because Mrs. Martinsaid the hat needed to be done for Mrs. McCreary by the next day,and she wouldn’t pay me if I didn’t finish. I told Mr. Martin Iwould go home at my usual time and no sooner.”
“Nellie!” Tillie appraised her new friend.“How brave. Weren’t you in danger?”
“I didn’t think so at first. Mr. Martin keptpacing in and out of the store and telling me I ought to go home,but I continued to object. All of a sudden, a bullet hit the brickof the building. Mr. Martin grabbed my arm and yelled at me, ‘Hatbe hanged, girl, get home now!’ I’m glad he threw me out when hedid, because just as I got out on the street, Yankee soldiers camestreaming by me, running for their lives, hollering at me to getinside as fast as I could.”
Her blue eyes took on a faraway look. Thespoon dangled in her hand as though she forgot she held it. Sheshook her head and blinked. “When I got home, a dead Union soldierlay in front of our house. My father knelt over him and wrapped ablanket around him. Pa saw me, stopped, and took me inside. Afterthe fighting ended that first day, he went back outside to seeabout the dead soldier. Someone took the blanket so Father gotanother and wrapped him up again. He tried to find someone to takethe man away, but couldn’t find anyone. The Rebs swarmed everywhereso he left the body lying on the pavement. The poor boy lay on thepavement for almost a week and a half before someone took his bodyaway. Horrible, so horrible.” Tears filled Nellie’s eyes. Shedropped her spoon and pushed her plate away. She crossed her arms,rested them on the table, and stared out the tent door.
Memories flooded Tillie’s mind. The faces ofthe boys they couldn’t save continued to haunt her.
Mrs. Greenly continued to eat her soup, asthough unaware of the emotions she unleashed in her twocompanions.
“Excuse me, ladies.”
The three of them turned to the orderlystanding at their table, hat in hand. “The surgeon would like tosee Mrs. Greenly. It’s about your son.” He gave them a nod anddisappeared.
“Oh no! I knew I shouldn’t have left hisside.” Mrs. Greenly jumped from her seat, fear and panic showing inthe strained, tight muscles of her face. “Tillie, please come withme,” Mrs. Greenly whispered. “I don’t wish to go alone.”
“Of course I will, but let’s not overreact.Perhaps he’s awake and asking for you.” Tillie rose. They excusedthemselves and hurried back to Joseph’s tent.
The surgeon sat in the chair next to Joseph’scot. He rose when they entered. “Mrs. Greenly, I consulted with mycolleagues, and we agree the best thing for your son is to amputatehis arm.”
Mrs. Greenly rocked back as though he struckher. “But without his arm, he won’t be able to do the farm work.How will he milk cows, bring in the corn, and do the other thingsneeding two arms?”
“Mrs. Greenly.” He placed a gentle hand onher shoulder. “Do you wish your son to survive? We need to reversethe infection, and the best way to do that is to amputate.”
Tillie touched Mrs. Greenly’s arm while thewoman gazed at her dear son.
“I’ve seen this done many times, Mrs.Greenly. Joseph does stand a better chance of survival if theyamputate. They saved many soldiers at the Weikerts’ in just thisway.”
Tears filled Mrs. Greenly’s eyes as she saw,perhaps for the first time, Joseph’s sad state. His face, ashengray, with sweat coating his forehead and sunken cheeks was a deathmask. He shivered and clasped his blanket close about him as hegroaned and muttered in delirium. Mrs. Greenly covered her facewith her hands and nodded, then wept. Tillie stepped close and puther arms around her friend’s shoulders while the woman struggled toregain her composure.
The doctors jumped into
