1901

He sighed and looked up at the cracked ceiling. “Then I saw the troops come back, all bloody and filthy and torn. And whipped. They were crying and hurt. When the fighting finally stopped and they sent people out to help the wounded, I volunteered. By that time many of the wounded had died from bleeding or shock. Some of them may have drowned in shell holes that were filled with rain from the storm. Anyway, we gathered up as many as we could and took them back to the field hospitals. Some died on the trip. I tried to keep one boy from bleeding to death from where his arm had been torn off. I squeezed his exposed and bleeding veins with my fingers, but they were too slippery and he died anyhow and I got his blood on my uniform. I’m not sure he would have survived under any circumstances. The crowds of wounded waiting for care at the hospitals were so large.”

Molly sat on the edge of the bed and drew his uncomplaining head to her shoulder. How could she have ever thought of this young man as her enemy? “You did what you could,” she said soothingly, running her hand through his thick blond hair.

“It wasn’t enough! You know, some of the worst wounded didn’t even make a sound? Maybe they couldn’t. When I was younger, I read of the Civil War where the operating tents were surrounded by piles of amputated limbs. I thought that was horrible and, stupid me, I thought those days were over. They’re not, Molly, they’re not. I saw mountains of arms and legs all covered with blood and flies and realized that they could have been mine.”

Heinz was crying as he spoke, and Molly realized her own cheeks were wet with tears.

“When the ambulances went out again, I did too. This time we picked up only the dead. In some ways they were worse than the wounded. Some of them just looked at you with open eyes on their blank dead faces, as if they were accusing you of causing them to die. When we couldn’t find any more bodies, we started picking up the bits and pieces. When the cart was full, we went back to the camp.” His voice broke and his chest heaved with racking sobs that nearly tore her apart.

Molly held his head to her bosom and rocked him gently as the two of them cried together. After some time, Heinz disengaged himself. “You better get back to your room,” he said gently, trying not to look at her.

Molly smiled and wiped both their tears with a corner of the covers. “When I’m ready.” She shifted so that this time her head was on his shoulder. Almost instinctively he put his arm around her. They sat silently for a few moments.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he insisted.

“Do you really want me to leave?”

“No. I don’t ever want you to leave,” he said softly, his face now full of a youthful sincerity that charmed her. “Where will you go when this war is over?”

She shrugged. “Boston perhaps. I seem to recall we have cousins there. Of course,” she giggled, “we Irish have cousins almost everywhere. Except Ireland, of course; everyone’s over here.”

“Any kin in Ohio? Cincinnati?”

“None I’m aware of. Why?”

“I want to take you home with me and I wouldn’t want you to be lonely for your folk.”

She sat up in the bed and turned so that she was kneeling, facing him. “Heinz, don’t joke with me.”

“No,” he said with deep sincerity. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time.”

A long time? They had known each other only a few weeks, but war has a way of making otherwise short periods of time seem eternal. Go with him to Ohio? Be the Irish wife of a German husband? No, she reminded herself, he is not a German. Heinz is an American and, as she’d been reminded several times, so is she. “If you really want me to, I’ll go with you,” she said softly.

They hugged and he kissed her. When was the last time a boy had kissed her? Billy McCaffrey, she recalled. It was about a year ago and the little pig was trying to run his hand up the inside of her thigh at the same time. She and Heinz kissed again and she felt her body meld into his as the kisses grew more eager, more intense, as they grew more familiar with each other.

Heinz was acutely aware that she wore nothing under the thin gown and that it had ridden well up her legs. He could feel her young breasts against him, and he was aroused as he’d never been in his life. “Now I think,” he gasped, “you’d really better leave.”

Molly sat up and smiled. “I think not,” she said as she slipped the gown over her shoulders.

A few minutes later and a few feet away, a shocked and confused Katrina Schuyler lay in her bed and tried to sort out her feelings and thoughts. She had awakened and found Molly’s bed empty. Assuming only that the girl had to answer a call of nature, she’d thought nothing of it. When, after a decent interval, Molly hadn’t returned, a drowsy Katrina started to worry. She got up and peered into the hallway, where, to her surprise, she heard sounds coming from Heinz’s room.