Free Spring Will Come by Ginny Dye Page A

was a wonder he was alive.  How long would he have to deal with the horrors of his memories?  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 
                  Alexander shook his head and looked at her as if he were surprised to see her there.  “I’m sorry, Miss Cromwell.  I shouldn’t be burdening you with stories like that.  You’re a lady.”
                  “A southern lady, Mr. Bedford.  Which means we’re all in this together,” Carrie responded crisply.  “You drink that water; then I’ll pour you another glass.”
                  Alexander laughed then nodded his head toward Johnny.  “I think you’re right.  She’s trying to drown us.” 
                  Carrie laughed with him and then moved down the line of soldiers and talked with each one, while she was dispensing water, fluffing pillows, straightening linen, and doing anything else she could to try to make them more comfortable.   Sickness and pain seldom made sense, no matter what the cause.  Somehow, since she had come to the hospital that morning, she had realized she could waste energy with anger and frustration, or simply accept what was and do the best she could to make a difference.   If she wanted to be a doctor, she was going to spend her whole life surrounded by senseless pain and suffering.   She would have to deal with it.
                  Sometime during that long morning, the sounds of battle ceased.  Carrie had heard story after story of both valor and suffering.  In the same voices, she heard both pride and agony.  In the same eyes, she saw both courage and fear.  In the same faces, she saw both determination and lonely homesickness.   And in her own heart, she was finding the way to deal with her fear and questioning about Robert.  As long as she gave wholeheartedly to the men filling the ward, she had no time to consider her own situation.  She would always see Robert’s face on every gurney and hear Robert’s voice with every request for water.  Although her fear that it might actually be him one day was terrifying, the comfort of helping those like him was the one redeeming factor.  Instinctively, she knew the hospital would be her saving grace through the long months, and possibly years, ahead.
                  “There are more wagons coming up the hill!” a ward nurse yelled as he dashed out the door. 
                  Carrie tightened her lips and followed.  The newly wounded were already being transported in.  Moving to the side, she stood and watched as the long line of ambulance wagons wound their way slowly up the hill.  Tents were being hastily erected to handle the overflow of soldiers who would not fit in the buildings.  Carrie tried not to gag at the odors settling down on the hospital as the day warmed and the hot air pressed the stench of rotting limbs close to the ground.  She turned toward the southwest and waited hopefully for the breeze that almost always blew from that direction, but today she was greeted by somber stillness.  The whole world seemed to be in mournful waiting. 
                  “Does anyone know what happened?” a nurse asked as he stood with the rest of them waiting for the wagons.  “They must have held them or we would be seeing Yankee soldiers before we saw the wounded.”
                  “The battle didn’t last too long this time,” one attendant said hopefully.  “Maybe the Yankees have decided to go fight their battles somewhere else.”
                  “Fat chance!” another snorted.  “They didn’t fight their way all the way up that peninsula to give up that easy.”
                  Carrie watched and listened as the voices rose around her.  She was sure the last man was right.  The fight for Richmond was surely not over yet.   She pushed down thoughts of Robert as she watched the first wagon cross the bridge