FicWad

With Owen alive and slowly recovering from his injuries, Jack and General Callahan decide not to dissolve the Thirteenth Bridgeton Light Infantry. They do not wish to disband it if there is still a hope for it to prosper again. All requests to resign commissions are frozen for three months in order to preserved the established hierarchy of competent officers. This angers some, but it guarantees that the new recruits arriving from Bridgeton will find themselves in an established unit with competent leadership. General Callahan vows to oversee his son’s management personally, lest he should make another serious error in judgment and risk the unit’s future. General Callahan will not tell his son how battle orders should be interpreted and obeyed, but he plans to personally ensure that the unit has ammunition, firewood, blankets, uniforms, and food, since Owen’s pride prevents him from asking for help in sorting messes related to the supply chain, even when he knows that he desperately needs it.

Owen struggles with fever and infection in the wake of his return, and Doctor Sparrow and General Callahan spare no expense to ensure that he is comfortable, though he insists that it is not necessary. Owen is a competent field commander, but he lacks practical logistical knowledge. The difficulty is not mentioned to him, nor will it be until he recovers. His unit has been stumbling for many months, but he is told not to worry and to try to recover as best he can. His men are forbidden from seeing him, with the exception of his brothers. His mother again takes Devon, Brian, and now Killian out of school in order to visit him along with his wife Cathleen, son Lochlan, sister-in-law Deirdre, and nephews Sean and Aidan. Various cousins and uncles from different units also arrive in order to show family solidarity and to visit with him. No Callahan will allow another Callahan to starve or suffer without offering help, but no Callahan will accept help either, causing the exchange to be nothing more than a friendly familial formality.

After three long weeks of waiting, some of the Colonel’s men are allowed to visit with him. Though many new men have arrived, none of them have yet seen their Colonel. Most have met their General instead, since he is overseeing supply and checking men into the unit while his son is ill. The Colonel’s mother presents her eldest son with a new banner for the unit that she stitched during the worst of his illness while she sat by his side, just as she designed and stitched he original during the Revolution upon the request of her then-future husband, who suggested that they needed one and that she ought to do that instead of a sampler when she came of age. Upon the reception of the standard, Owen Callahan insists that he is well enough to rise from his bed and return to his clerical duties with the assistance of the company clerk. For fear of overloading his already fragile immune system, he does not greet new arrivals, but he does file their paperwork and allot their pay. Kian is saddled with the task of outfitting them, while Conan verifies their information and assigns them to their tents. They have only a small amount of general basic training and very minimal specialized light infantry training. Many of them cannot accurately fire a flintlock pistol or a rifle. Half cannot appropriately clean their weapons, whether they are swords or guns. Many do not know how to sharpen knives or swords. More than half cannot attach a bayonet to a rifle in a reasonable amount of time. A few lack the knowledge of how to strap on their armor. A handful cannot harness or ride a horse, though riding is not a skill required of enlisted men in light infantry units. None of them would survive a sword duel against an enemy soldier. Some of them cannot chop wood, tie down tents, build a fire, or find their own way back to camp. Their more experienced counterparts do not tolerate such ineptitude. Some men, like Lieutenant O’Dunphy, benevolently teach the new recruits the proper way of doing things. Others, like Major Fitzmaurice, mock them while explaining things. Others, like Liam, allow them to suffer until they figure tings out for themselves. Still others, like Kian Callahan shout orders at them in the desperate hope that they will learn the proper way through discipline.

Regardless of competence, the unit is beginning to fill out again. Its numbers are returning to a sustainable level. Survival and battle skills can be taught and learned, but fearlessness is inherent. Fearlessness comes from lessons learned as children, from character, or from desperation. Most men become violently ill after their first battle. Every battle afterward, with the exception of those causing grave injuries or claiming the lives of close friends, becomes a blur, but nobody ever forgets their first battle in a light infantry unit. The raw recruits do not realize that yet because they will not be brought into battle until Colonel Callahan is well. Some enlisted to follow a long-standing family tradition, others to be among brothers and friends. Some wanted to join their whole lives for the structure. Some joined out of desperation. Some feel a patriotic duty to their nation. Despite those noble reasons, the most common reason for young men to enlist is the women that a uniform attracts, and the majority of new men lack even the most basic manners around women and their superiors, which does not bode well for the cohesion of the unit, which is already strained by heavy casualties.

When Lieutenant Barrett arrives looking for Major Fitzmaurice, the new men assume that she is a prostitute ordered by one of the lieutenants. Hoping that they will not be discovered by the officers, one of the new men grabs her and tries to drag her into the woods. Ten men attempt to pull her away from camp, each in their own direction. She screams for Major Fitzmaurice and Doctor Sparrow. Major Fitzmaurice is not expecting her for another three hours, so he is in the noisy mess tent enjoying a cup of tea and playing with a nesting doll that he intends to give her as a gift. Meanwhile, Doctor Sparrow is aiding other surgeons and desensitizing some of the new men by having them watch and assist in simple medical procedures on men from nearby units. The majority of the injuries are concussions, dislocated joints, and broken bones, since the majority of the patients are from a heavy infantry unit, but there are a few bullet wounds, an arm that requires amputation below the elbow, and a man whose face, chest, and arm were burned badly when his rifle backfired. Most of the new men are already hardened to the sight of injuries, having grown to manhood in the slums of Bridgeton and having been around injuries their entire lives, but a few of the men faint at the sight of blood and needles. Doctor Sparrow keeps a list for the benefit of Colonel Callahan, though Major Fitzmaurice will be responsible for spotting the best men for promotion, as he has a natural talent for doing so.

Liam is the first officer to respond to Emily’s screams. He is whittling a new cup for himself when he hears the struggle and the screams. He drops what he is doing and runs to her aid. Lieutenant Hackett, who was sitting with him, runs to find Major Fitzmaurice. When Liam arrives, there are ten men in a pile on top of Lieutenant Barrett. He whisltes for their attention and orders them to stop, but they refuse. Then he sees her emerge from the pile of men, a bloody knife in her right hand. He stands against a tree, one hand on his sword, ready in case she needs assistance. When Major Fitzmaurice, Doctor Sparrow, Lieutenant Hackett, and Conan arrive, all of the ten men are moaning and writhing on the ground, most with deep knife wounds. Lieutenant Hackett is breathing heavily, is visibly shaken, and has a few large bruises, but she is alright. Major Fitzmaurice whistles for the watch, who tie the men’s hands together and return them to camp to await medical treatment and disciplinary hearings. Doctor Sparrow checks Lieutenant Barrett’s minor bruises first, then has a light dinner before returning to his less serious patients, leaving the new men who attacked Lieutenant Barrett to suffer for a while, despite their fairly serious injuries. He is obligated to help them, but he is not obligated to be gentle, kind, or particularly prompt in treating them. He is habitually unkind to those who mistreat his loyal friends. He reasons that when men are injured in the field, it is often hours before they see a doctor, so he may as well help them in building the necessary toughness to survive battles.

Major Fitzmaurice and Lieutenant Barrett go to a clearing in the woods where nobody will interrupt them. Major Fitzmaurice desperately wants a good, home-cooked dinner, so Lieutenant Barrett offered to cook it for him, provided that he went to town in order to fetch the supplies, since she spent her day in battle and did not have an opportunity to go to town herself. Doctor Sparrow, who often dines with Major Fitzmaurice and Lieutenant Barrett, does not join them. He is going to town with doctors from nearby units. Many of them are his friends from medical school, and he tries to see them as often as he can. Four of them are close friends of his from medical school, and two of them are newly bound to the army, while the other two have been since they left medical school, thus, they are required to go into battle with their units, unlike civilian doctors on contract, who stay away from the fighting. He is afraid to lose any of the precious few doctors that Bridgeton has in fighting such a war. At first, when the army tried to forcibly incorporate civilian doctors, he was angry with Jack and his generals, who all knew the reality of the situation, but he later learned that it was a mandate by the Senate and that Jack had mailed his vote against it in absentia because he was unavoidably detained by a commitment to be in battle on the day the Senate was to debate it.

Lieutenant Barrett is in an unusually good mood, despite the fact that she was assaulted by ten men earlier in the evening. This leaves Major Fitzmaurice in an uneasy mood. For some reason, whenever Lieutenant Barrett, normally a woman of serious demeanor, is unusually giddy, it means that she is scheming. That is how she met Major Fitzmaurice, and he does not forget that Kerrigan advised her to it after Liam’s suggestion. He wonders about the nature of her current plot and who might be complicit to it. Major Fitzmaurice is not a patient man. Despite the enjoyable dinner, he is distant. He is curious about Emily’s scheming and seriously concerned about how Doctor Sparrow will react when he learns that Doctor Hayes, one of his close friends and the only other married man in the group of doctors with whom he drinks, was gravely wounded earlier that day. Major Fitzmaurice fidgets in silence through dinner. He does not respond to any of Lieutenant Barrett’s attempts at communication. Instead, he sits stiffly, smoking absentmindedly, She sighs. Major Fitzmaurice is seldom so somber, and he is never distant toward her. She clears the dishes, scrubs them in the stream, and douses the fire. Major Fitzmaurice does not move, and he does not say a word. Lieutenant Barrett rests her head on his shoulder, but he shrugs it away. She bites her lip to prevent herself from sobbing. He does not notice. After several more silent minutes, she leaves. Though there are many dangers in the area, especially for a woman, he does not follow her. She does not return. Eventually, darkness falls. Eventually, Major Fitzmaurice returns to camp.

Major Fitzmaurice has little tolerance for alcohol, so he seldom drinks. Beyond a weak tolerance, he dislikes beer. He has never liked it. The stench of it nauseates him, and the taste makes him gag, so much so that he never uses his beer ration. It has been several hours since the light dinner that Emily cooked, so he is drinking on an empty stomach. He does not care. Emily has a secret, and he knows that it will involve another man. Women’s secrets always do. Major Fitzmaurice is a jealous and a somewhat possessive man. He is terrified that Emily might have interests in another man and that he might lose her. He craves the happy home and financial stability that he lacked as a child. He wants a home where he is the only man in Emily’s life and where they can live in comfort, knowing that they will never have to worry about starvation or about financial problems causing them to lose their home. He fears that his happy future might be in jeopardy because of Emily’s secret, and he worries about Doctor Sparrow. Major Fitzmaurice hates to worry, so he hopes to drink until he falls asleep and that he will be ready to face Emily and Doctor Sparrow in the morning. It is then that he realizes that he has neither cigarettes nor whiskey. He does have a week’s worth of beer rations, but nobody is willing to trade beer rations for either whiskey or cigarettes. The only man willing to part with his tobacco has only chewing tobacco, a substance which Major Fitzmaurice tried only once shortly after he joined the army as a young lieutenant. He hated the taste so much that he had to drink ten cups of very sweet tea in order to get the taste out of his mouth, and he was awake for three straight days afterward, causing him to hallucinate enemies that did not exist and stab at them wildly with his bayonet. This caused his former colonel to call upon the services of a charming young doctor, who treated him by assigning him bed rest and observation, with the occasional whiskey mixed in for variety. That incident and a certain shyness around his fellow soldiers that took years for Major Fitzmaurice to overcome caused him to be passed over for promotion to captain until the mass exodus of senior officers just before the war began.

Jack, who has officially returned to Crosspoint proper for all intents and purposes related to the Southern Army or the Senate, spends most of his evenings in camp with the Callahans and Liam. On this particular evening, he claims that he was unavoidably detained in town on business. In reality, he was drinking with General Malone, and everyone who knows him knows that. On the other hand, Jack is always willing to make deals, unlike most of the men in the unit. Major Fitzmaurice, whose nerves are past the levels that he can bear, is desperate to smoke anything. Jack cannot trade him beer rations for whiskey, since he has no whiskey remaining for himself, but he can give him cigars, for which he asks nothing in return. Jack recognizes Major Fitzmaurice’s desperation and wishes that his own only nagged him to smoke. He wants opium, but he knows that Doctor Sparrow will refuse to supply him with any, for the opium that would sustain his addiction would be better used if given to the wounded. He knows that they need it far more than he does, but he still wants it. Jack hopes that Major Fitzmaurice does not follow in his footsteps, though he does not know him well enough to know that he has seen what he refuses to become.

Major Fitzmaurice knows that he cannot remain in camp, but he does not know where to go. He could go to town, but he would rather not be far away from camp, as the winds have begun to howl, and he can feel a tingling in his bones telling him that a storm is coming. He finds his way to the stream in the woods and sits along its banks. It is still partially frozen, though some, himself included, will suffer chest-deep in water that is barely above freezing and still freezes solid on the top every night in order to feel clean and awake in the morning. He attempts to choke down a beer. He has never found a beer that he liked. He finds the rather pungent taste and odor distasteful, and the foaminess of beer has never agreed with his stomach. He has always preferred good whiskey. Good whiskey is smooth whiskey, as Brian Sparrow, the Doctor’s father, who was, for all intents and purposes, the Major’s surrogate father as well, and also a distiller by trade after he left bar ownership in his past, always told the boys when they were adolescents. Mister Sparrow never drank beer, so neither do his boys.

Major Fitzmaurice is able to choke down one beer and part of another before he can no longer tolerate the taste. He smashes the second bottle into a tree. He only turned in two of his ration cards. Every man is allotted one beer per day Monday to Thursday and three per day from Friday to Sunday, all to be given either after the close of battle or after sunset if there is no battle. Each man is also entitled to two packs of cigarettes, a small box of cigars, or a pouch of pipe tobacco each week, given on Friday evenings after the close of battle or after sunset. Each day has a different specific weekly ration assigned to it, along with daily rations, which are given at specific times, and special rations, which are dispersed either to everyone by order of the colonel or to a specific man through a chit written by the colonel. Every man is entitled to his choice of tea or coffee at dawn, a hard roll, and some form of smoked or cured meat or cheese and fruit dispensed after breakfast for lunchtime, and a beer at the end of the day.

On Monday, they are given soap. On Tuesday, they are given salt and spices. On Wednesday, they receive new socks. On Thursday, matches are rationed. On Friday, they receive their tobacco. On Saturday, they receive paper and ink with which to write home. On Sunday, they are given thread with which to mend their uniforms and any small uniform pieces or basic kit supplies that they might be lacking. Pay is distributed on the first day of each month. The Colonel decides when such supplies as blankets, socks, boots, and uniforms are distributed, either to the entire unit or to an individual, but it is always up to that individual to accept. Doctor Sparrow is free to requisition blankets as needed and new uniforms for injured men from the unit’s supply. He is also free to prescribe hard liquor through the unit’s supply, but all other supplies he requires are handled separately. Occasionally, the Colonel will write a chit for a man to get a ration of hard liquor, a free day in town with neither duty nor battle, or to be allowed no punishment for his next offense. The first two are customarily given for birthdays and otherwise upon merit. The latter is seldom given and is typically reserved for circumstances regarding personal disputes of which the colonel is aware but which military law has no power to resolve.

Everything, even rations, are available for sale or barter. Before Liam married, he often sold his paper and ink for a small amount of money. Those who do not smoke sell their matches and tobacco, just has those who dislike beer sell their beer rations. Major Fitzmaurice has been a part of a trading triangle for well over a year. Many of the men find that they have an extra soap ration every so often. Major Fitzmaurice trades his and the women’s beer rations for the extra soap rations, which he then gives to the women in exchange for their tobacco rations and a few spare matches. None of the women in the unit smoke, but they typically require the extra soap so that they can wash their long hair. Currently, the women have no tobacco rations to trade to him because he has already smoked what they gave him for the time being, and it is not yet Friday.

So Major Fitzmaurice sits in the woods, suitably drunk, smoking one of Jack’s cigars and hoping to get the taste of beer out of his mouth, preferably before it makes him completely nauseous. Doctor Sparrow returns to camp after visiting most of his old school friends. He will visit the injured Doctor Hayes in the sober light of day. He knows that if he goes now, he will be tempted to operate on Doctor Hayes in order to ease his suffering, despite being under the influence. So, instead, he focuses his good will upon Major Fitzmaurice, who is currently in no medical need of surgery. When Doctor Sparrow arrives in camp, he is greeted by Jack, who warns him about Major Fitzmaurice. Curious about the situation, Doctor Sparrow sets his course toward the infamous tent in the woods in search of Major Fitzmaurice after confirming that he is not in the surgical tent, the majors’ tent, Doctor Sparrow’s own, personal tent, or the mess ten and confirming that he has not been seen recently by anyone in camp. When Doctor Sparrow arrives at the tent in the woods, he finds Emily crying. It is then that he realizes that something serious has happened.

“Emily,” asks Doctor Sparrow, “why are you crying? Here, use my handkerchief. Tell me what he’s gone an’ done this time.”

“Major Fitzmaurice is angry wi’ me,” replies Emily between sniffles.

“D’ye know why? Wi’ him, there’s always a reason.”

“I don’t. He jus’- He wouldn’t say a word to me. I mean- I tried to tell him, but-”

“He was worried. Probably ‘bout me. Ye jus’ had bad timin’s all.”

“Is somethin’ the matter, Doctor? Are ye alright? Why would he be worried ‘bout yourself?”

“I’m fine, but a doctor friend o’ mine was shot. Billy knew ‘bout it ‘afore I did, an’ he wasn’t the one to tell me. That’s where I’ve been all evenin’, in town wi’ the other doctors, a bloody great group o’ doctors. They told him to tell me, but he didn’t get the chance.”

“Will he be alright?”

“Hmm?”

“Your friend, the other doctor. Will he be alright?”

“Probably. I’ve not seen him for meself. They’ve asked me to check in on him, which I’ve said I’ll do tomorrow. ‘Tis late, an’ I’ve had one drink, which is one too many to operate. ‘Tis rather pathetic, really. I’ve seen the man what’s injured operate after drinkin’ like a fish all night, steady as if he was sober, an’ I can’t even handle one…an’ at the age I am…”

“How’d he get injured? Why would Billy be so worried ‘bout ye finding’ out? What’s so special about this particular doctor?”

“His name,” begins Doctor Sparrow, his voice shaky, as if he were unsure, “is Thomas Hayes, Lieutenant Thomas Hayes. The group o’ doctors I drink wi’- the regulars, that is, not this whole big group - they’re me oul’ friends from medical school. Me an’ Billy lived in the same street all our lives ‘til me da’ built him a bed an’ he moved in wi’ our family proper, like. We was both to study medicine, for District Thirteen Bridgeton is woeful short on doctors, but when we started at Bridgeton University, Billy found out he couldn’t take the blood an’ needles, so he switched from pre-medicine to pre-law. He chose to go to Bridgeton Military Academy ‘stead o’ Bridgeton Law School. Jack paid our school fees as a debt to me da’ from days long ago. Billy wasn’t cut out for law, so he begged to study for an officer. Jack approved it wi’ all his blessin’. The on’y thing we’ve wanted to be since we was four years old was soldiers.”

“But ye’re a-”

“Civilian. Aye. The Southern Army’s also woeful scarce on doctors, so they put out a call for civilians to come. So I came. Me wife wouldn’t have me in the army, not proper, at least. She lets me play soldier out here, though, which is all I could e’er ask her for. The pay’s steady, so she don’t complain too loud. The doctors I drink wi’- they’re friends from medical school. ‘Twas the first time I was without Billy since we was little, an’ they took me in as one o’ their own. We came from all o’er the slums o’ Bridgeton, an’ we found each other at medical school, where the lads wi’ money won’t speak to a slum boy. We all came here, somehow or another. Some were indebted to the military for their school fees, an’ so they were required to serve, an’ me an’ the rest came runnin’ when they asked for civilian doctors. We’re all from Bridgeton, so we’re all assigned to Bridgeton area units. When the Senate said we had to join or leave, I left. I followed a pilgrimage in Hayes’ footsteps. I saw the work he’d done, traveled ‘round the country, visited the same villages, an’ I continued his work ‘til a letter arrived from me Colonel what said-”

“Ye jus’ said-”

“What?”

“Say it again.”

“A letter arrived from me colonel what said I could return,” Doctor Sparrow says, making Emily giggle. Doctor Sparrow pauses. “What’s so funny?”

“Ye’re a civilian, but ye call him your colonel.”

“He is. I’m assigned to his unit. I live wi’ them. Hell, I wear Billy’s spare boots.”

“His boots?”

“Aye. I had to sew me own foot shut first week I was here, for the shite these men’ll toss on the ground in this camp. So Billy gave me a spare pair o’ boots to keep me feet safe in this Godforsaken piece o’ muddy ground, since his shoes fit me right well, an’ I can’t requisition me own.”

“So why Hayes? Ye followed him, so ye’ve got some connection or sommat? Men in the army get injured all the time, doctors too. Billy’s been injured plenty, an’ he’s your oldest friend. What’s so special a bond ‘twixt yourself an’ this Hayes fellow that Billy’d think ye’d take it worse than when he got injured?”

“He’s the on’y other married man among me school friends. He married while he was in medical school, I married jus’ after graduation. All me doctor friends became soldiers. They got to stay wi’ their units, but I’d’ve had to leave these men anyway ‘cause there was no place open in this unit at the time, an’ Annie wouldn’t’ve liked it if I’d joined anyhow, so I left. So Hayes became a soldier. They make him hurt an’ kill when he’s sworn to do no harm.”

“But ye’re not exactly innocent. Billy tells me ye’re quite a good shot,” says Emily cheekily.

“I take little solace in that knowledge,” says Doctor Sparrow solemnly. “I can shoot, but I’m no soldier, Emily. I see a patient at the other end o’ the gun. Any good doctor does. I owe it to me profession to treat an enemy - any enemy - just as I’d treat an ally, though, as I’ve said a thousand times, I needn’t be kind, quick, or gentle to an enemy. There are no sides, and there is no rank. There is only the wound. I needn’t be gentle, but I am bound to heal.”

“So why aren’t ye wi’ Hayes, then?”

“’Afore ye met Billy, he’d another girl. She was wi’ child, his child, no less. She tried to hold it o’er him, an’ she was the most awful little tart, too, just ask anyone, so we got her drunk, an’ he asked me to-”

“What? Claim it?”

“Aye, to claim it from her.”

“Not what I meant, but, well, did ye?”

“Aye, an’ it killed her.”

“How far along?”

“Five…six weeks maybe. I’m not sure. Ladies’ matters are the business o’ the midwife, not the surgeon. I should’ve known she’d bleed out, but I was- I was too drunk to operate. There! I’ve said it!” Doctor Sparrow exclaims. “I was caught. Kerrigan…Senatorial General Sheehan…she…they disappeared ‘cause o’ her. The charges, that is.”

“What was your specialty?” asks Emily, curious to know more about her fiancé’s closest friend.

“What d’ye mean?”

“In medical school. What was it?”

“Traumatic Injury, if ye must know, secondary in serious diseases. I was trained to serve District Thriteen Bridgeton, for it has so much sufferin’ an’ so few doctors. I have a working knowledge of diseases, but I hardly paid attention to the study. ‘Tis mostly from jus’ seein’ ‘em ‘round an’ catchin’ most all o’ them as a child.”

“Why injury? Ye weren’t bound to the military for your school money.”

“If I can save a child from bein’ crippled…’tis the greatest feelin’. Me best friend was to go for a solider, an’ I needed to know that I could fix him right proper if somethin’ bad happened. Beyond that, I prefer wounds. Your patients are unconscious, so they cries less, an’ a cut hand or a gunshot ain’t catchy. Truth be told, for I doctor, I’ve always been a bit afraid o’ catchin’ things.”

“But I’ve ne’er seen ye ill.”

“Not anymore, no. I suppose not. When we was kids, Billy an’ me’d catch near everythin’ there was to catch, an’ we’d always get it at the same time, too. It meant we was ne’er lonely or bored when we were ill ‘cause there was no chance o’ gettin’ the other sick, so we could be ill together, but since then I’ve tried as best I could to avoid illness, given me profession. Billy don’t go lookin’ to get hisself shot, so why should I look to get meself sick?”

“’Tis hardly surprisin’.”

“What?”

“That ye was always sick as children. I mean ye did…ah well…ye know…ye grew up in a…a…” Emily pauses awkwardly.

“Slum?” asks Doctor Sparrow, as if the word had no personal meaning.

“Aye.”

“’Twould be a might less awkward if ye’d jus’ out an’ say it.”

“Sorry, doctor, I-”

“The men o’ this unit know right well where they come form, an’ they’ve a certain pride in it,” informs Doctor Sparrow.

“In what? Wearin’ rags? Starvin’? Beatin’ their wives? Dyin’ young? Disease? Poverty? Gamblin’ when their babies ain’t eaten? Drinkin’ themselves to death?” asks Emily, judgmentally.

“Survivin’,” replies Doctor Sparrow with utmost seriousness. “An’ don’t ye dare mock where Billy’s from to his face or ye’ll fast make an enemy o’ him. He nearly died as a young boy. Fell into the River Tyne runnin’ from a man whose bread he stole, for he’d nothin’ to eat all week. He was lucky he got fished out, but it gave him an’ me both our first case o’ typhus. ‘Tis but by the grace o’ God go we. We’re the lucky ones. We made it out standin’.”

“Can I ask ye a question?” asks Emily, terrified.

“Aye,” replies Doctor Sparrow cautiously.

“Well…two, really.”

“Go ahead.”

“Where was Hayes shot?”

“In a battle a few miles south o’ here. ‘Twas earlier today.”

“No, I mean his leg, his head, his chest…where was he shot?”

“His right hand, an’ he’s a surgeon. It don’t sound serious for a man in most any other profession, but for a surgeon, it could end his career.”

“Is there anythin’ I could do?”

“No. The Army pays him a fair salary, an’ his wife cooks for him. I’ll stop by tomorrow to see if I can’t sort it out proper so’s he can use it again. He’s in terrible pain, but I won’t let him lose that hand. He’s not the first surgeon ‘round here to face losin’ his livelihood to a bullet, an’ I’ll see to it he don’t. He may not be able to operate after this, but he’ll be able to use that hand some, at least.”

“Me other question’s a mite more personal. Why would Billy not welcome news I’m clearly happy about?”

“His mind jumps to the thought o’ children. I know that ain’t what ye’ve got to tell him ‘cause ye would’ve told me first. Billy loves the childer, but he ain’t ready for one, wouldn’t know what to do with it if he had it, an’ certainly don’t want one out here, ‘specially after what he saw in Crosspoint ‘afore Midwinter. Aye?”

“Ye remind me so much o’ Billy, on’y ye’re much easier to talk to.”

“’Tis ‘cause ye ain’t me fiancée. I’m sure me wife’d say the same ‘bout him.”

“No. There’s something’ else. Ye listen better.”

“Nature o’ me work. Billy’s job is to catch the important bits o’ his orders, fix the rest, an’ pass ‘em down. He listens, aye. He gets the important bits, but if ye’re shoutin’, he’ll ignore ye. If ye’ve got him interested, he’ll get every detail. The nature o’ me own work is to hear those little details in a complaint that let me know what ye’ve got makin’ ye sick. They taught me to pay attention in medical school by makin’ a fool o’ me. I certainly wasn’t the brightest student as a child, but I got by, barely at times. I ne’er paid much attention or stayed awake in lessons ‘til a wrong answer cost ye your seat in medical school. Billy ne’er had to pay that kind o’ attention to anythin’, but they took his chair many’s the time for sleepin’ at the military academy.”

“What was he like back then?”

“How far back?”

“All the way back.”

“He was…a bit wild. He was a thief by necessity. He had to steal to eat. Me da’ didn’t want him goin’ that way ‘cause he knew Billy’s family an’ ‘cause he didn’t want Billy goin’ that way an’ takin’ me right along wi’ him. ‘Twas too late for his brothers, their dad gone five, six years, maybe more, but me da’, he wanted to save Billy. We wasn’t rich or nothin’, not even for where we lived, but we made do. The first new suit Billy e’er owned, his Communion suit, was from me da’. So was his horse, matter o’ fact. Eventually, he moved into our house an’ took a spare bed in me room. Me ma’d lost her third child ‘afore ‘twas born, but dad’d already built the bed, so he offered to take Billy in as his own third child. Me da’ used up his last favors wi’ Jack Shepherd puttin’ us through school.”

“But has he always had such sad eyes? I’ve ne’er noticed…”

“He has, but they always light up when he’s up to somethin’. Me ma’ always said so. I’m surprised ye’ve even seen it a’ ‘tall. He’s fond o’ ye like I’ve ne’er seen him fond o’ any other woman. The last time I’ve seen him half as happy as he is wi’ yourself was the day he got his first gun. Can ye tell when he’s lyin’?”

“Aye.”

“Then he’ll ne’er be able to lie to ye. He was a bit wild back in the day, but he’s a good man. He cares ‘bout ye more’n anything’. He worries ‘bout ye, an’ he don’t hardly worry ‘bout nobody. I could count the list o’ people Billy Fitzmaurice cares enough ‘bout to worry ‘bout on one hand. There’s yourself, your man Conan, an’ me. I think that’s all. Maybe Liam or Hackett if he’s feelin’ particularly generous. An’ he on’y worries ‘bout Conan ‘cause, sure, the poor lad grew up surrounded by Callahans, an’ Billy’s got this idea in his head somehow that Conan can’t take care o’ hisself. Yourself an’ me alone are close enough he calls us family. He’s scared to lose ye.”

“So he’s always wanted to be a soldier, then?” Emily asks solemnly after a long pause.

“He has,” replies Doctor Sparrow curtly.

“Ye jus’ cause more questions, Doctor.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding condescending. Besides your own, are there any good parents in the entire South Side o’ Bridgeton?”

“Ah, well, every boyo on the South Side grows up wantin’ to be Jack Shepherd or Emmett Barrett or, at the very least, Keegan Callahan or Eamon Malone.”

“Me father’s dead an’ gone, though. Why would they want to be him?”

“Ah, but ye see, they’d rather die wi’ money than live without it.”

“That’s absurd!” exclaims Emily.

“That’s poverty,” replies Doctor Sparrow grimly. “They’d rather their own children grow up havin’ plenty to eat an’ not seein’ their fathers than to grow up wi’ nothin’ an’ see their fathers drunk all the time. ‘Tis no way to live. There’s no hope there, on’y pain. They’d rather spare their children that. Ye grew up where we always wished we was. ‘Tis mighty hard to stay awake in school, even when the schoolmaster threatens ye wi’ the cane, the day ‘afore your da’ gets paid when ye ain’t got nothing’ to eat. An’ all the while we’d wish an’ hope. The boys dream o’ becomin’ someone rich an’ famous or a great general, an’ the girls dream o’ marryin’ a rich man ‘cause he likes her looks. But not even one in a hundred makes it out. I can’t very well blame ye for not knowin’, but I envy ye. We always will.”

“Ye ne’er answered me question. Are there any good parents in South Side Bridgeton ‘sides your own?”

“Jack tells me the current schoolmaster at the Thirteenth Street School in the oul’ neighborhood’s not half bad. Me brother-in-law does his best, but me sister don’t help out any nor make it easy on him. Last I heard, she’s in prison, an’ good riddance to her, but the law finds out Mike’s alone, they’ll take his children, an’ he’ll ne’er see ‘em no more. Me ma’ an’ da’ are helpin’ him confuse the proper authorities. If he loses them little ones, but especially that little girl o’ his, ‘twill be the end o’ him. Saxen O’Casey was a good father in his day. ‘Course his brood’s all up an’ grown, but he was a devoted father, even after they killed his wife. Everyone says it ‘bout him. Ardal Malone, too. He raised his, then his unmarried daughter’s, an’ then Eamon’s brother an’ sister died an’ left theirs orphans. Evan wouldn’t do it, so Eamon took ‘em in wi’ his own, but then he went to war. So Ardal’s a father again so them kids have got someone to look up to. I’d like to think Boland an’ his girl are good. They care plenty, an’ the boy seems happy enough. ‘Tis hard wi’ him here an’ his family there, but he manages. An’ there’s the Callahans.”

“They’re…so…” fades Emily.

“Martial?” asks Doctor Sparrow. “I know. But not a one has served hard time. Not Keegan, not his seven sons, nor his six brothers, an’ not their sons, neither. ‘Afore ye ask, there’s no daughters. They’re an entity unto themselves for sure, an’ a clan in the truest sense, but they raise their boys right. I’m waitin’ for the day they get their own unit. There’ll be enough in another twenty years or so, but they’re all scattered through South Side Bridgeton units, ‘cept the General o’ ‘course, even if they all live in the same neighborhood…”

“There’s that many Callahans?”

“Aye, an’ they’ve all got the same tattoo, all the grown men anyway.”

“The armbands?”

“Aye.”

“I’ve always wondered ‘bout that.”

“Ye’d have to ask Conan. They’re some sort o’ family tradition.”

“I’ll get plenty o’ chances,” says Emily.

“Really, now?” asks Doctor Sparrow, confused.

“Aye. I’m comin’ here.”

“What?”

“To this unit. I’m transferin’ to the Southern Army.”

“Why?”

“Because the Thirteenth Bridgeton lost so many officers, an’ Jack wanted a woman to brighten the place up a bit. He asked me to transfer armies an’ come here. ‘Twixt yourself an’ me, I think he wants me to be a female General someday or somethin’ to prove to the boys club he’s got that it can be done, but this unit’s the General Maker.”

“An’ what happened today didn’t deter ye?” asks Doctor Sparrow flatly.

“Not a’ ‘tall. They’d not’ve done that to their superior.”

“They won’t stop when they know ye’re a lieutenant, much less their lieutenant.”

“An’ even if they didn’t stop, ye’d be here to stitch me back up.”

“I would, would I?” Doctor Sparrow pauses. “Well, I suppose I would. Why don’t ye go tell Billy?”

“I tried, but he was jus’ so…so cold. I don’t know where he is, at any rate.”

“He’s not gone far. I doubt he’s gone back to camp, an’ if he did, he didn’t stay. He wasn’t there when I got back neither. I can say for sure he’s not in town, though.”

“How can ye be so certain?”

“There’s a storm comin’. He won’t want to be far from camp when it arrives.”

“How can ye tell? I hear no thunder.”

“Billy an’ me broke enough bones in our youth to know for sure when a storm’s brewin’. The on’y way the schoolmaster could tell us apart was by our injuries at the time.”

“How’d ye manage that?”

“He learned damned quick how to jump off roofs or second floors after he bruised both his tibia …er…lower leg bones…jumpin’ out the second floor o’ the oul’ cloth mill on Harper’s Court Road an’ landin’ on the cobblestones. There was no cloth there anymore. Da’ told me ‘twas looted in the Revolution, an’ ‘twas a burnt-out shell from the King’s many fires, but there was plenty o’ dust an’ oul’ papers o’ all sorts…newspapers, fish papers, cigarette rollin’ papers, all from people down on their luck takin’ shelter inside. We went there to smoke as kids, but I dropped a match, an’ some oul’ papers caught fire. It spread like mad. We was trapped, so we jumped out the window.”

“An’ yourself?”

“I landed in a cart o’ hay. Billy didn’t.”

“How old were ye?”

“Fourteen.”

“Fourteen-year-olds smoke in South Side Bridgeton!?” asks Emily, shocked at such a notion.

“Ten-year-olds smoke in South Side Bridgeton,” says Doctor Sparrow grimly. “Four an’ five year olds sell cigarettes an’ matches in the street at dawn an’ after school well into the night, an’ I had a seven-year-old child try to bum a match off me last time I was home. Fourteen is hardly a shock, Miss Barrett,” replies Doctor Sparrow hurriedly.

“Surely ye hurt yourselves other ways.”

“We both got run o’er by a cart at seven. He broke his right arm an’ I me left. He also got his left hand stuck in a cider press once, an’ I got a hammer to the head at fifteen. An’ that’s not the half o’ what we did.”

“Dear me!” exclaims an embarrassed Emily. “The worst I did was fall down the stairs wearin’ one o’ da’s suits an’ break a vase an’ tear his trousers!”

“Well, that’s ‘cause ye’re rich,” says Doctor Sparrow. “That vase was probably worth more’n me da’s house. Come, now. I’ve got an idea o’ where Billy might be at.”

“Where’s that?”

“Would ye like me to find him for ye?”

“Very much so!”

“Stay here. I’ll bring him to ye. I know where he’ll be but not how he’ll be.”

Doctor Sparrow follows the bank of the stream until he finds Major Fitzmaurice skipping rocks across its surface. He approaches him cautiously, his worst fears confirmed. Major Fitzmaurice growls an incomprehensible greeting.

“Since when d’ye drink beer?” asks Doctor Sparrow.

“Since I can’t get no whiskey. Awful stuff beer is, though. How’s Hayes, or ain’t they told ye?”

“They told me. I’ll open his hand up tomorrow. Ain’t exactly sober myself. For tonight, though, ye’re me on’y patient-”

“A comfortin’ thought, that,” interrupts Major Fitzmaurice. “On’y operate on the ones nobody cares ’bout when ye’re three sheets to the wind.”

“Tonight, ye’re me on’y patient, lest ye hurt Emmy or meself. An’ I’ve naught on which to operate, so let us keep it that way, shall we?”

“What would it matter?”

“Well, I won’t let ye, at any rate?”

“An’ jus’ how d’ye think ye’d stop me? What weapons have ye got?”

“By now, I’m less drunk than ye are, an’ I’ve me own ways o’ stopping’ ye, mark me words. An’ since when d’ye smoke cigars?”

“Since I couldn’t find me no cigarettes. Jack gave ‘em to me. Like ‘em better anyway. They don’t choke so much. Here. Have one. I ain’t gonna go through the lot o’ these by Friday.”

Doctor Sparrow takes one, lights it, and says, “Not bad…not bad.” Doctor Sparrow pauses and turns to Major Fitzmaurice. “Ye’ve got to sober up some, an’ damned quick, too.”

“Why?”

“Because Emmy is in the tent o’er yonder, distraught as could be, wi’ wonderful news for ye.”

“Don’t tell me she’s in the family way.”

“She’s not. If she was, she’d’ve verified wi’ me first.”

“Good. Not ready for ‘em.”

“Seriously, Billy, do somethin’.”

“What?”

“Ye’ve got to speak to Emmy, but ye can’t let her see ye like that,” pleads Doctor Sparrow.

“But if we’re gonna get maried, she might as well,” reasons Major Fitzmaurice.

“Not now. Not tonight. Take it from a married man.” Doctor Sparrow fills a nearby bucket with icy water from the stream and hurls it at Major Fitzmaurice, who is now cold, wet, awake, and painfully aware of just how drunk he really is. Doctor Sparrow leads him to the tent in the woods, enters, turns to Emily, and says, “He’ll listen now. I’ll stay outside for fifteen minutes in case anythin’ happens. After that, if all’s well, ‘tis back to camp I go.”

“Thankee, Doctor,” says Emily.

“Not a problem, miss,” replies Doctor Sparrow, ducking out of the tent.

Major Fitzmaurice removes his wet shirt and wraps himself in a blanket. He reclines on the cot, and Emily stands and asks, “Since when d’ye drink beer?”

“I couldn’t find nothin’ else,” replies Major Fitzmaurice.

“I talked to Doctor Sparrow. It was…enlightenin’. Left me feelin’ guilty for growin’ up wi’ money.”

“Don’t. I learned to accept me family was poor years ago. Both me real family, that is the Sparrows who raised me, an’ the one what brought me into the world. Your da’ an’ grandda’ worked their way out ‘afore the Revolution but fought in it anyhow an’ fought for the poor. ‘Tis a family to be proud of.”

Major Fitzmaurice pulls Emily into his arms, but she pushes him away and asks, “Have ye been smokin’ cigars?”

“Aye, I have. Why?”

“I’m allergic to cigar smoke. I’ll jus’ stay by ye, close as I can, but ye can’t hold me close.”

“Jaysus! Ye’re a fragile little thing!” exclaims Major Fitzmaurice. “I’m sorry. I wish ye’d told me.”

“I did,” says Emily bluntly. “I’ll find ye somethin’ else tomorrow or the day after, Friday at the latest. ‘Twill take a go od search through me trunk.”

“So what d’ye have to tell me?”

“I’m transferrin’ to your unit. Colonel wanted a female officer, asked Jack if he could have me transfer. Jack wanted a woman to prove somethin’ to his boys’ club, so he agreed. He asked me hisself, an’ I start the fifteenth o’ March.”

“Yourself? Here?”

“Aye.”

“An’ ye’re not afraid?”

“Ye’d kill anyone what laid a hand on me; there’s a great doctor; an’ I’ve friends here.”

“True enough. Welcome to the Thirteenth Bridgeton, Miss Barrett.”