“Well, you shore gave us a scare we didn’t need…” Joe laughed as he moved the chair closer to the bed.
Lee couldn’t stifle the smile. “Forgive me, Joe…”
“The doc said you took a few other bullets from the war…how come you never mentioned them?” Joe asked as though it were his business to know.
Lee rubbed his leg methodically. “That’s what happens in war. I couldn’t hide the arm from you, but no use going into detail about the bullets. War is like that, Joe. Yeah…I took a couple. No use worryin’ over it, I got better and didn’t die like they thought I might.”
“What happened…?” Joe asked.
Lee eyed him for a minute knowing he couldn’t hide from Joe long. “I took a bullet just below my ribs. I was rushin’ a cannon, trying to knock it out of commission as it was blasting the hell out of my men. I made it up the ridge, and was clogging it when I was caught from the rear. The bullet went through me. Spent a while in the sick ward for it. I guess that’s when they got my name mixed up with another and decided I’d died. I almost did, but there was this surgeon that was headstrong about keeping me going. I admired him so much, I began to study his work a little. He let me assist with a few of my men before I was discharged.”
“Now that sounds like you were a hero…” Joe laughed.
Lee frowned. “I just did what I had to do…Lots of others did too, Joe. It’s just the way war is. Full of killin’ or be killed.”
“And I’ll betcha if I went through your saddle bags, I’d find a medal in there for that one, wouldn’t I?” Joe mused with another sly smile.
Lee firmed his lips. “I didn’t want any medal…a lot of good boys died that day.”
Joe shook his head. “You’s bound and determined you ain’t gonna be no hero, ain’t ya?”
“I’m no hero, Joe, so let it lie…” Lee looked away.
“So what happened with your arm?” Joe scrunched up his face at him.
“I was trying to decide whether to attack or not. Sittin’ there with indecision clouding my mind and bullets flyin’ and Martin Fuller, a young kid, came up to me. He was barely sixteen. His brothers talked him into joinin’. He had no business in that war, Joe. He was still just a wet-nosed kid. Anyway, he came up to me, he was askin’ what to do next, and I turned to look at him, and blood rippled down his forehead and he fell dead at my feet. That’s when I decided to take the cannon on the hill. I didn’t even think any more, I just did it. It had to be done. I wasn’t gonna look at another Martin Fuller lying at my feet. So don’t go pinin’ no medals on me. If I hadn’t been worrying with what to do, the kid probably would have never died. A lot of men wouldn’t. After that, I knew what I had to do and I did it. I didn’t even think, I just did. But it wasn’t for a medal Joe, it was for the kid…” Lee’s voice broke and he looked away. “The canon was live and I didn’t know it when I rushed in. It blew my lower arm off, right there. All the way back to the hospital, I kept telling them about Martin. He was just a little dumb farm boy…like myself. He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want that damn war at all. They fixed me up, and I mended. The doc, he showed me how to strengthen myself so I could do things without help. It took a while to learn to build myself up. But I did it. But–I don’t have no medal, Joe, I buried it with the kid.”
“Buried it…but how…”
“Aww…I got it later…from General Lee himself, but I knew where I buried that kid and I went there after the war, and buried it with him. It was because of him that I got that medal. He deserved it, not me.”
“How’d you find his grave?”
Lee stared into Joe’s eyes. “I’m the one who buried him and I carved his name in the wooden head of his grave so I could find it. It was one of the bloodiest battles of the war, a lot of men died, and it took me a few days to find it. I’d almost given up findin’ him, when there he was just below the hill, where they attacked us. We buried a lot of them there. But I did find him.”
Joe frowned and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lee. I guess you saw a lot of death there.”
“More than I wanted…I asked the doc how he managed to keep his head dealing with the smell of death every day. He said he didn’t deal with it at all, he didn’t think on it, didn’t put names to them, just did his job. Did what he had to do. And that’s exactly what I did that day with the cannon, what I had to do. The doc didn’t get no medals for all he did. It was his job, and it was my job to knock that cannon out the best way I could.”
“I see what ya mean…” Joe nodded. “I never looked at it like that, no sir.”
Lee thought of Josh now, dying in that cabin, and Chase and Katherine too. He missed them every day. Chase had taught him a lot of rules of survi
val and Lee appreciated it through the war, but no one prepared him for the dying of friends.
Then he smiled; he almost chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Joe asked.
“That bullet wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me,” Lee admitted.
“What do ya mean?” Joe stared.
“Well sir, there was somethin’ worse than bullets goin’ on during that war. I almost lost my foot…and I wasn’t alone.” Lee chuckled. “Up in Arkansas, it was one of the worst dang winters you ever saw. Snow and ice, always freezin’ cold. And that country up there is full of hills and the hills are full of rocks and combine that with snow and ice. And the fact that our shoes and boots were comin’ unglued. Some made the mistakes of throwin’ their blankets away so when we marched it wouldn’t be such a burden, but then when it froze so did we. But it was the marchin’. So much marching…My boots, they almost fell apart although I wore them ‘til they just crumbled beneath me. We all did. When they did, I tried wrapping them with some of my clothes. But they took a beating, and then it froze again and we had to cross this river. The dang thing was nearly frozen, and they suggested we run rather than walk through it. But it nearly killed half of us. Most of us were barefoot. And we had cuts and bruises from all the marching. I guess we spent more time doctorin’ our feet than anything. Well, my feet turned black for a while, and I had so many sores…it wasn’t a pretty sight. But I’d seen enough of that gangrene that I wasn’t about to let them get that bad. They’d be sawin’ off. So I doctored and wrapped and rewrapped those feet. I babied them.”
“Good Lord, Mr. Lee…that had to be painful.” Joe shook his head.
“I worried over those feet more than any bullet. At least a bullet would kill you outright, losin’ a foot or leg would be a slow death if they got it in time. I saw too many get them chopped off. I was determined to take care of mine the best I could. I rubbed them. I hung them up on the side of a tree and rested them. I cleaned them every night. Gradually, they got better. Some of the others began to do the same as me, we had to do something…or lose them.”