Chapter Four
"Stay still!" yelled the doctor as he peeled the skin around Bill's wound to allow a surgical tool, more like scissors, to remove the bullet inside of his shoulder.
"Hold still," said the doctor as Bill's leg shook violently as the assisting doctor moved in with scissors and began to touch certain parts of Bill's inner muscles and flesh. Bill was screaming inside of his mouth, not wanting to let a huge outburst when he knew his wound wasn't a severe as others around him or who have already died because of it. Bill began to breath heavily as he could feel the scissors tough his bone then his bullet. The scissors opened to get a grip on the bullet, the doctor was unable to remove it without it slipping out of the claws.
"Damn't," he said. "I'm gonna have to ply and push it out," he finished.
"Sergeant," yelled the main doctor, "towels quickly, we may have some blood in a while," he said turning to Bill. "Don't worry, we just have to push the bullet out as it is lodged very good into your bones, no sweat," he finished with a smile as the sergeant walked in and handed him a towel. "A tourniquet too," added the doctor to the sergeant. The sounds of artillery sounded in the distance as night was coming over the mountainous battlefield.
The doctor moved the scissors once more into Bill's shoulder, passing a small ligiment in front of him, and placing the scissors between the minieball and crack in the bone, positioning it so he could apply leverage with his hand and Bill's collarbone to ply it out (as that seemed to be the only way of removing the bullet at the moment). He began to ply it forward, pushing against the bone causing Bill to wince in pain; feeling his bone being chipped apart by the scissors themselves. The bullet then raced out of his bone and quickly moved up into the air and landed nearby the sergeant who was returning with the tourniquet. A small stream of blood shot up into the air, quickly stopped by the towel the second doctor applied to the hole.
"Sergeant, alcohol!"
The sergeant raced to bring in alcohol as a means to stop the bleeding as the hospital was depleted of its normal supplies. The alcohol had a hard sting when applied to Bill, but Bill was soon to get out and walk towards and sit next to Colonel Chapman outside once again. He sighed and talked to the colonel who had just asked who had sat down beside him, to which he was happy to hear the name 'Bill,' replied to him.
"Colonel," began Bill, "I always wanted to ask you a question about something I could never figure out."
"What is that?" questioned the colonel.
"Why do you carry that golden watch with the marking 'Mark of Twain?' " asked Bill.
The colonel smiled, "Ahh, you musn't know then, then your not a sailor. When I was little, I fell overboard my father's ship on the Mississippi, believing that I was going to drown but the river was shallow. Only twelve feet deep they were able to jump in a save me because I was at the base of the river. If it was any deeper I would've died that day, so I keep the watch with the 'mark of twain' meaning the water is only twelve feet deep."
"You fell overboard as a child?" laughed Bill.
The colonel laughed and sat back, "Yes," he finished
Bill had a smile and began to talk to the colonel again, the colonel wasn't responding this time around. "Colonel? Colonel?" questioned Bill until he felt the head of Colonel Chapman rest along his shoulder, he knew that the colonel had now died; leaving Bill in a camp of unknown men, both wounded and not.
~ Tom and his companions were returning to the battle by nightfall, the beautiful orange crackling lights of artillery and rifles were a sight to see during the night. Tom could only see a few out in front of him and was re-assured by his commanding officers and junior officers that the day was won and the battle was over or would resume at day-break. He set his rifle down beside Justin and rested his head by Paul and tried to get some well deserved sleep that he and the Union Army had finally and rightfully deserved and won.
Tom eventually closed his eyes, finally seeing nothing but black spaced volume. Tom and his friends slept well for a short while. Midnight passed and early morning was creeping up on the Union Army, the time most likely being just after two in the morning. Tom was asleep like a giant not knowing or aware of anything going around him. The Union sentries were busy smoking and not paying much attention to the Confederate controlled fields. One sentry was stabbed through the back of the neck, the other was taken by the mouth and brutally murdered by several Confederate soldiers.
Behind them, the entire Confederate Army was moving forward, this included General Johnston who was there to show some influence and install courage among his battle-tested men who had finally been beaten back during the midday hours before. Whispers spread like wildfire across the Confederate lines who inconspiculously eliminated the Union sentries, now the Confederates were posed to strike over the defenses and move directly on top of the Union soldiers below them. One of the Confederate soldier's advancing, only a few feet from the Union lines snapped a twig.
Tom opened his eyes and saw the glistening glimmor of a Confederate bayonet above him. Tom grapped his rifle shooting it in the air and quickly stabbing the Confederate soldier, killing him instantly.
"Get up! Get up!" shouted Union soldiers, "they're here!" they said as the Confederates yelled and jumped forward into the Union lines. Nasty fighting and hand-to-hand fighting ensued, the majority of the casualties being the tired and weart Union soldiers as random rifle and the occassional artillery fire was the only light that was seen in the darkness of the "Butcher's Nest." Tom clutched his rifle and moved his hat in front of his face as he hoped the Confederates would think he was already dead. Union soldiers began to flee backwards, shooting at the Confederates blindly.
It was so dark that men were killing, shooting, and running into their own friends and comrades. From Tom's position he could hear his friends begin to talk; Paul and Justin had just ran into one another. "Justin?"
"Yeah?"
"Let's get the hell outta here!"
"Where's Tom?"
"He's probably already left, he's the smart one."
Screams and sounds of death engulfed the dark air once again, Tom closed his eyes and shook as he heard the sicking noises of blood and organs being blown out of men nearby, and bayonets ripping into wool uniforms; especially the screams that followed. A Union cannon fired one last shot and fell silent, a rocket went screaming into the air, illuminating the grounds below it. The Confederates had just taken the "Butcher's Nest" with minimal losses, but one they could ill afford to lose, General Johnston was shot by a stray bullet, Union or Confederate; that no one knew. But for Tom, he was in a sea of dead soldiers, piled under dead comrades and surrounded by Confederate soldiers all around him. Tom was trapped in Clinch Mountain.