Who goes there? : $b The story of a spy in the Civil WarBenson, B. K. (Blackwood Ketcham)
History
Who goes there? : $b The story of a spy in the Civil War
Benson, B. K. (Blackwood Ketcham)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
The more I tried to remember, the more confused I was, and the more did
I suffer pain. I could see now that what I had taken for a wagoners'
camp was a soldiers' camp. But why there should be soldiers here was too
hard for me. This doctor with gilt stripes must be a surgeon.
The doctor came again.
"How are you now, Jones?" he asked.
"Better, I trust," said I.
"You will be fit for duty in less than a week," he said.
"Fit for duty?"
"Yes."
"What duty?"
"Do you mean to insist that you are not a soldier?"
"I am not a soldier," I said.
"Then why do you wear a uniform?"
"I have never been a soldier; I have never worn uniform; you are taking
me for another man."
"You have on the uniform now," said he.
He brought a coat and showed me the brass buttons on it.
"Your buttons are like mine--palmetto buttons."
"Palmetto buttons?" I repeated, wondering.
"Yes; you say you are in South Carolina?"
"Yes," I assented. "Is that my coat?"
"Yes. What district?"
"I don't know--yes, Barnwell."
"Who is your captain?"
"I have never had a captain." Then, by a great effort, I said, "I don't
understand at all this talk about soldiers and captains. Do you belong
to the Citadel battalion?"
"No," he said; "you mean the Charleston Citadel?
"Yes."
"Did you go to the Citadel?"
"No; I think not," said I.
"Why do you refer to the Citadel battalion?"
"They are soldiers," I replied.
"Did you ever hear of President Davis--Jeff Davis?"
"No," said I.
"You know something of Charleston?"
"I've been there, I think."
"When?"
"Well; not very long ago."
"How long? Try to think."
"I am greatly confused," I said. "I don't know whether I am awake or
dreaming."
"Ask me questions," said the doctor.
"Where am I?"
"In the field hospital."
"What am I here for? What is the field hospital? I did not know there
was a hospital here."
"Where do you think you are?"
"In Aiken," I said.
"Do you live in Aiken?"
"I don't know, Doctor. I suppose you are a doctor?"
"Yes, when I'm at home; here I am a surgeon. Ask me more questions."
"Give me some water," said I.
He brought the water, and I drank.
"Am I not in Aiken?"
"You are not now in Aiken," said the doctor. "Try to remember whether
your home is in Aiken."
"No, I am staying here for a time," said I.
"Where is your home?"
"I do not know anything," said I, gloomily.
"Ask me more questions," said the doctor; "we must try to get you out of
this."
"Out of this what?"
"This condition. You have been hurt, and you cannot put things together
yet. It will come right after a little, if you don't get irritable."
"I hope so," said I.
"Ask more questions," said he.
"How did I get here?"
"You were brought here unconscious, or almost so, by my infirmary men."
"What men?"
"Infirmary men."
"What are they?"
"Well," said he, "they are my helpers."
"I knew something strange had happened. How did I get hurt?"
"Do you know how long you were in Aiken?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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