“Oh, fine. Be that way, you spoiled, selfish,rotten…little boy!” She waved an angry hand and stormed out of thetent. For the first time since she started working, she went homeearly. She didn’t even care if they had wood for the night.
* * * *
Tillie returned the following morning andstood inside the entrance of the convalescent tent. Her eyestraveled over the boys huddled beneath their blankets and stoppedat Tommy. She approached his cot with a slow, contrite step. “Iwish to apologize to all of you, but especially you, Tommy, for mybehavior yesterday. My outburst happened because of something else,not you. I unleashed my frustrations on you, which was wrong. Willyou forgive me?”
“Miss Tillie.” Private Johnson sat up andsmiled at her. “We may spend almost all of our time in this tent,but we’re not ignorant to what goes on around here. We see how yourpeople treat you for taking care of us. We see it in the way wedon’t get wood at night, in the way you fight for us to get evensmall luxuries. They talk about you when you’re not here. Yes, theytalk about you, and no, it’s not worth repeating the things theysay. They’re the ones without Christian charity. There is one thingwe’ve been wondering though.”
Tillie’s throat tightened, and she blinkedback tears. “What’s that?”
He grinned and glanced around at hiscomrades, including them in his joke. They snickered.
“What took you so long?” All the men burstout laughing, except Tommy.
It took a minute for Tillie to realize theylaughed in sympathy and understanding. She joined in, sniffing backtears.
A blue-clad soldier came in, carrying wood,and Tillie gave him a little dig. “I’m sorry.” She grew serious. “Idon’t understand why you never get wood at night. I ask every nightto make sure you get some, and they always assure me you will.”
“Well then, you’re naïve if you think they’regonna give us wood.” Private Wilson put his hands behind hishead.
The Yankee soldier opened his arms, dumpedthe wood, stormed out.
“Thank you, ever so much,” Tillie called ashe snapped back the tent flap and left.
They laughed at his retreating footsteps.
“She’s stupid,” Tommy blurted out. “You’re adumb, know-it-all, stupid woman.”
The laughter abruptly ceased.
Tillie stared at him. “He speaks!”
“Tommy, leave her alone.” Private Baconlowered the book Tillie gave him the day before. He scowled atTommy from his cot next to the ginger-haired boy. “She’s beennothing but kind and generous, and that’s rare around here. We canall go to prison camp and take with us the memory of herkindness.”
Tommy turned his face away and muttered underhis breath.
“Besides,” Bacon continued, returning to hisbook, “she’s right, and I, for one, am sick and tired of yourattitude.”
Again, the men laughed.
Tillie used the diversion to kneel andarrange the kindling. After she lit a match, the flames gatheredstrength while she organized her thoughts. She put wood on theflames and shut the stove door, holding her hands out to feel theheat radiate.
Satisfied, she rose and stalked to Tommy’scot. “I thought about you all night last night. I want to tell youa story. On the Yankee side, I cared for a man who lost both hishands. A farmer in civilian life. Imagine trying to farm withouthands.” If she thought Tommy would respond, she was in fordisappointment.
He kept his eyes averted and pulled hisblanket over his head.
“Tommy, look at me. Your life isn’t over. Doyou want me to tell you about the boy without his hands?”
“No.” Tommy’s muffled voice came from underthe cover. “Leave me be.”
“I won’t leave you be. I don’t believe inallowing people to wallow in self-pity. It’s sinful. The boy wholost his hands had more reason than you to despair, but he doesn’t.He’s decided he`ll go home and open a dry goods store. He saidthere would be things he can do and things he can’t, but those hecan’t, he’d find people who can. He’s not going to let hiscircumstance stop him. I can’t imagine why you would let the lossof one foot stop you. Get up out of the wallow. Stop feeling sorryfor yourself. You’re going to go to prison camp soon. You’ll needevery ounce of fight left in you to survive.” She glared at him,breathing hard. “My point is you can find something else to do withyour life, but only if you’re willing to survive and go home.”
“I don’t need you telling me what I can andcan’t do. Why don’t you go away?”
Tillie shook her head and walked away. Shesat next to Private Wilson, smoothed his blankets, and helped himto sit up.
He patted her hand. “You did fine, MissTillie. He needed to hear it. We been saying the same thing, but heneeded to hear it all the same.”
“I hope so.”
* * * *
Two days later, Tillie arrived at CampLetterman to discover the entire Confederate side empty. Soldiersworked, striking the last few tents.
She ran back to the gate. “Guard!”
“Yes, miss?”
“What happened to the boys? My boys? Whereare they?”
“Well, miss, the prison transport train camefor them last night. We loaded them up and sent them to a brand-newprison camp in Illinois called Rock Island.” He put his fingers tohis hat brim. “Please excuse me now, miss.” He walked away.
Her heart sank, and she bit back bittertears. Why didn’t they tell her? Give her a chance to say goodbye?She stared at the dead earth where sixteen men lived for a shorttime. She would never lay eyes on them again. “Why didn’t you letme say goodbye?” She screamed at the place where the tent oncestood. People milling around stopped and stared at the crazy girlscreaming by the gate. Then they went back to business.
* * * *
She walked to the dining hall, not expectinganyone to join her at mealtimes anymore. Today she didn’t care. Shewanted to be alone.
Dr. Janes, the camp administrator, enteredthe dining hall and stood on a chair. The hall grew quiet.
“Ladies and gentleman.” He put out his handsin an unnecessary gesture for silence. “Ladies and gentleman, Iwish to make an announcement.” He made a show of sliding onspectacles and withdrawing a piece of paper from his coat pocket.He unfolded the sheet and held it
