Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [152]
“Let’s go home,” I said, tugging on his arm. I wanted to drag him away from the depressing atmosphere of death and mourning, to help him turn away from it and welcome life and hope once more. Before sitting down beside him in my drawing room, I opened all the doors to the backyard, letting the calm May breeze drift into the room, bringing the chatter of birdsong, the faint scent of spring.
“I think this war is very close to an end,” Charles said as we sipped the coffee Esther brought us. “People up north aren’t going to stand for too many more losses like Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. They’re as tired of the bloodshed as we are. I have a feeling that after this latest victory, General Lee is going to take the war into Union territory again. When civilians up north suddenly see their own homes threatened, when they begin to suffer the way Virginians have suffered, they’ll call an end to it.”
“What about you, Charles—when it’s finally over? For two years now, you’ve been trained to march and kill and hate. What about afterward?”
He shifted restlessly on the sofa, as if unable to relax. “It seems like the work I did in Washington, and even in my father’s mills, happened a lifetime ago. I know it will be hard to adjust back to civilian life. I had a hard time adjusting to soldiering at first. But now . . . Caroline, you can’t imagine what an exhilarating experience it is. The camaraderie of the men . . . knowing we’re all in this together, working as one, fighting for our homes, our lives. There’s no other feeling in the world like those final few moments before a battle.”
“Are you ever afraid . . . before. . . ?”
“Not of the Yankees. Not even of dying, as strange as that sounds. If I’m afraid of anything, it’s that I’ll fail—that the Yankees will break through to Richmond, where you are. I think of what they might do, and I know that I must hold them back, keep them from ever entering this city.” He shifted again and I saw the latent energy in his muscles, the warrior who couldn’t relax or be still.
“But I only think those thoughts in the moments before the battle starts. Then all of a sudden the enemy is coming at me and time freezes, and all I can think about is stopping that moving wall of blue. You load, aim, fire, load again. You’re aware of bullets whistling past and men falling beside you, but you don’t think about it until it’s over. You don’t even hear their screams and moans until afterwards.
“Then you’re back in camp again, and you realize that you’re still alive. In fact, it feels as though life is bursting through your veins. You’re exhausted, everyone is, yet the camp comes alive with music and laughter. Even the wormy food they feed us tastes wonderful because you’ve lived to fight another day.”
“Where do you find the courage to fight again and again, to keep facing armies that are so much bigger than yours?”
“You can’t muster the courage to do it when you’re here, at home. It only comes when you’re faced with it. And when you believe in what you’re fighting for.”
I nodded in understanding. “Before the war, I never would have imagined that I could work in a place like Chimborazo Hospital . . . to see such terrible, gruesome sights, to watch men suffer like that. You’re right, I don’t know how I do it, but I do know why.”
“Ever since that first battle at Manassas, Caroline, I feel more alive than I ever have in my life. I know that sounds odd, but I think it’s because there have been so many times when I might have died. I notice things now—like the way the tree branches move when I’m lying beneath them and the way the air smells before it rains. After the battle of Fredericksburg, the northern lights filled the winter sky that night. I can’t even describe how beautiful it looked—as if God had lit up the heavens with His glory. I see the world differently now. And I don’t think I’ll ever take life for granted again.”
I traced the line of his jaw with my fingers. “I know what you mean. I’ve seen so many lives come to