My Brother's Keeper My America 1 Page 3

  This morning, the wounded men at the McCullys' were moved to field hospitals. As soon as they were gone, other boarders arrived -- people from far away who have come to Gettysburg to search for their lost loved ones.

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  Two women from New Jersey now camp in the parlor. They will look for their missing husbands.

  A farmer from Massachusetts sleeps in the kitchen. He will visit the shallow graves in the fields. He hopes to find the remains of his three boys, so he can carry them home and bury them on his farm.

  July 13, 1863

  I have made up my mind. I am going to find my father and brother. I will get my satchel from the cellar. I will carry Pa's violin and Jed's books back to our house.

  If they do not come home by tomorrow, I will start walking to Uncle Jack's.

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  I am home.

  This is the worst night of my life.

  Pa came back. But Jed is missing.

  I was in the cellar when I heard Pa calling. I rushed upstairs to greet him. I jumped into his arms. Then I asked where Jed was.

  Pa looked confused. He said he had sent Jed back to Gettysburg a long time ago to take care of me.

  I told him Jed had never arrived.

  Pa nearly collapsed. He said something terrible must have happened to Jed. He said he had to look for him.

  Pa told me to go back to the McCullys'. He said he would find Jed. Then he ran from the house, got on his horse, and started off.

  I screamed after him. But Pa did not seem to hear me.

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  Reverend McCully came by to find out why I had not returned to their house.

  While he was here, Pa came back. He was shivering and his eyes looked wild.

  Reverend McCully calmed him down and made him explain what had happened.

  Pa said that he and Jed had hidden Uncle Jack's horses. After that, Uncle Jack had hurt his back. So Pa stayed with him and sent Jed back to Gettysburg.

  That was more than two weeks ago. Pa now fears Jed might have been caught in the fighting or captured by the Rebels.

  Reverend McCully prayed with us for Jed's safe return.

  After he left, I tried to comfort Pa. I opened my mother's gold locket and held up her tiny

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  picture. I said she was keeping Jed safe for us.

  Pa took the locket from me. Then he went to his room.

  Now his door is closed. I can hear him pacing and talking to himself. I hear him telling my mother he is sorry.

  I do not know what to do.

  July 14, 1863

  The McCullys are visiting with Pa now. They are in the parlor, praying for Jed.

  What if I never see Jed again?

  When my mother died, Jed was only nine years old. He and Pa both tried to be a mother to me. They sewed my clothes. They cooked for me. Before I even went to school, Jed taught me how to read and write.

  How can I live without him?

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  July 15, 1863

  Pa tried to chop wood this afternoon. But he could not work long. His hands were shaking too badly.

  He has not touched his violin since he has been home. He says the music has left his heart.

  July 16, 1863

  Jane Ellen came by today. She brought bread and helped me with the wash.

  Jane Ellen suggested that Pa visit the field hospitals outside of Gettysburg, between here and Uncle Jack's farm.

  After she left, Pa told me he was going to hitch up Rex in the morning. He is going to look for Jed in the countryside.

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  I told him I must go with him. But he said no. He said he had seen too many terrible sights on his way to Gettysburg. He thinks I am too young to see such things.

  July 18, 1863

  This morning I made Pa change his mind. I grabbed his hands and held them tightly, so they wouldn't shake. I told him I had run away once from a terrible sight. I would never run away again. If we go to the hospitals, I will be extra brave, I said. For Jed's sake.

  Pa said I sounded like my mother. He said she was very brave, too.

  I told him I knew she was wishing we would both go look for Jed.

  "All right, Elizabeth," Pa whispered, like he was talking to my mother and not me.

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  We will travel together now to every farmhouse, barn, stable, and schoolhouse to look for Jed.

  Please wait, Jed. Please, please, wait for us.

  July 19, 1863

  It was a sunny day today. But no songbirds sang in the countryside. People say no songbirds have sung in the fields or woods since the roar of the cannons. Only vultures caw now.

  Where did the songbirds go? Did they fly away? Or are they hiding in silence?

  As Pa and I rode through the countryside, we saw dead men and rotting horses.

  We saw broken fences, burned bridges, and destroyed crops.

  We saw mounds of soldiers' graves. But no

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  soldier seems to have been buried decently. The graves are marked with just a bit of board -- a slat from a barrel, a fence rail, a roof shingle. Names or initials are just scrawled on them in paint.

  We came to a farm where the wagon shed, the pigsty, and barnyard were all crowded with wounded men. But Jed was not there.

  We visited two other hospitals, both in farmhouses. But none of the men were Jed.

  July 21, 1863

  An astonishing thing happened today.

  After a day of searching several field hospitals, we came upon one in a schoolhouse. I went in to ask about Jed, while Pa waited outside. He has become more and more distressed by the terrible suffering we have seen.

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  Inside, I discovered that most of the patients were Confederate soldiers. Many were so awfully sick they looked beyond all human aid.

  But as I turned to leave, I heard someone call my name. It was Captain Heath! His head was bandaged.

  I ran to the Confederate officer and shook his hand. He asked why I was there. I told him my father and I were looking for my brother Jed.

  He said may God help us find him. He said he would pray that Jed is alive and unharmed.

  Thank you, God, for keeping Captain Heath safe.

  July 22, 1863

  Pa has gone to bed, very weary. By the time we came home tonight, we had seen hundreds of wounded men.

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  At the last hospital, we met a kindly group of lady nurses from Philadelphia.

  One asked me to help her dress a wound.

  Pa kept urging me to come along, but I said I wanted to stay and help. I cut the bandage and wrapped it gently around a soldier's torn

  arm.

  I am still horrified by the pain and suffering. I have not grown dead to my feelings. But I know one true thing about myself now -- I will never run away from helping again.

  July 24, 1863

  It has been raining hard for two days. The creeks have overflowed, so we cannot take the buggy out.

  Stay awake, Jed. Do not let God close your eyes. Do not sink into the long forever sleep.

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  The rain has stopped. But I fear Pa has lost hope for our search. He did not get out of bed yesterday or today.

  I must go out alone. I told Pa I will ride Rex by myself tomorrow.

  Pa did not say no. He is too worn down to think clearly. If he were well, I know he would not let me go alone.

  July 27, 1863

  I have stopped to let Rex rest for a moment before we head back to Gettysburg. I have ridden nearly all day.

  At dawn, I started down Baltimore Pike, riding past the battlefields. They were silent and ghostly.

  Still not a songbird sings.

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  I stopped at three hospitals on White Run and studied the wounded. None of them were Jed.

  I stopped at a hospital in the village of Two Taverns. Jed was not there, either.

  I must start for home now, to get back to Pa before dark.

  Later


  I will not be riding Rex home tonight. Pa will be worried.

  But he will be happy to find out why.

  On our ride down the pike, Rex was weary. We trotted through the twilight at a slow pace.

  Near White Church Road, I heard a bird singing. It was the first bird I had heard in a long time.

  It was not just a twitter. It was a wondrous song.

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  I stopped. I could not see the little bird in the brush. But its spirit moved me to turn Rex onto the road.

  Shadows were falling quickly around the white church. A light burned in the open doorway.

  I hitched Rex to a tree. When I looked inside the church, I saw dozens of men on beds of hay and straw. Lady nurses silently served from a soup kettle.

  I asked one if I could look for my brother. She gave me a candle. I began carrying it from face to face.

  Before I even came to Jed, my heart started to sing.

  His eyes were closed. His face was hollow and pale. But I knew him at once. I knew the shape of his light brown beard, his lips, his long lashes. I knew his hands folded across his chest.

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  He has not seen me yet. He has not opened his eyes.

  The nurses tell me Jed escaped from the Rebels and crawled here with a broken leg. He has a fever now and has slept for many days.

  But Jed breathes. His heart beats.

  I only have to wait for God to wake him up.

  July 28, 1863

  This morning one of the nurses will get word to Pa that Jed and I are here. I know he will come right away. I asked the nurse to tell him to bring

  The Death of King Arthur

  so I can read it to Jed.

  Later

  Pa is here. When he saw Jed was alive, he fell to his knees and wept with joy.

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  Now he is pacing back and forth beside the bed. He is watching Jed, anxious for him to wake up.

  July 29, 1863

  It is long after midnight. Pa snores now. But I still have not closed my eyes. I am afraid that if I stop seeing and hearing for Jed, he will slip away into that other world.

  I have been talking to him of all the things he loves. I have reminded him of his books and his writing, of Pa and our mother and President Lincoln.

  Still, he has not opened his eyes.

  For the rest of the night, I will read to him from

  The Death of King Arthur.

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  This is the brightest morning of our lives.

  Did Jed hear me reading

  The Death of King Arthur

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  .

  Why else would he have opened his eyes just as I read: "... lightly and fiercely he pulled the sword out of the stone."?

  That has always been his favorite part.

  I laughed and cried to see him awake. So did Pa.

  Jed was too weak to speak. He sleeps again now, but the nurse says his fever has broken.

  I imagine that somewhere that little bird is singing its heart out.

  July 31, 1868

  Jed has been awake all morning.

  Pa asked him about what happened, and

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  Jed told how he had been captured by Rebs on his way back to Gettysburg. He had escaped with two other prisoners. But he soon found himself in the midst of fighting. Jed was trampled by a horse and his leg was broken. As he lay on the ground, he saw the two men he had escaped with get killed by cannon fire.

  When Jed started to speak of the death of his friends, he could not go on. He turned his face to the wall. He closed his eyes.

  I tried to comfort him. I told him I had been his eyes and ears while he was gone. I asked if he wanted his journal back now.

  He shook his head.

  I asked if I should keep writing until he felt better.

  He kept his eyes closed and nodded.

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  The doctor has just said magic words to us: He said Jed could go home this very afternoon.

  Pa and the doctor will have to carry him to the buggy. He will not be able to walk at all for many months, the doctor said. In time, his broken leg should heal.

  August 3, 1863

  Jed is home safely. Right now I am in my bed, resting.

  Jane Ellen and Mrs. McCully have just arrived. They have brought bread.

  When Jane Ellen said hello to Jed, he barely even looked up. He did not seem to remember meeting her before.

  I wish Jane Ellen could know the old Jed.

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  The one who laughed so easily and told good stories. This Jed seems only half here.

  But I am glad Jane Ellen is visiting with him. I need to rest. I have not rested in a long time.

  August 11, 1863

  I am finally awake.

  When I went to sleep, I slept for almost a week. I slept and slept and slept.

  Jane Ellen told me that everyone grew worried about me. But I knew it was just my time to rest.

  Jane Ellen helped keep our house while I slept.

  Jed seems better. With Pa and Jane Ellen's help, he can get outside to the porch.

  He does not talk much. But he seems to like watching the blue sky and feeling the warm sunlight.

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  I am sitting on top of Cemetery Hill.

  This is the first time I have been here since the battle.

  Many of the tombstones around me look wounded. They are chipped and riddled with holes.

  My mother's, though, was not struck by even one bullet.

  I think she is resting in peace again now that Jed and Pa and I are all safe together.

  August 15, 1863

  I am feeling very nervous.

  Jed has asked me to read him my entries in his journal. I am worried that he will not like my writing. He might think it is too childish or simple.

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  Anyway, this will be my last entry, as I am certain he will want his journal back now. Thank you, Jed, for lending it to me.

  Later

  I am in heaven.

  Jed listened very carefully as I read from his journal. He laughed when I read some parts. He looked very serious as I read others. Once I even saw him wipe tears from his eyes.

  When I finished reading, he just stared at me for a long moment. Then he said I was a very good writer.

  I could hardly breathe.

  Jed said I should never stop writing. He said he wanted me to keep his journal and write in it every day.

  I told him he should write in it himself.

  Jed said he was done with writing for a

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  while. He said I was the writer in the family now.

  I did not know what to say about that.

  August 16, 1863

  This morning, Jane Ellen came by again. She talked about her favorite books with me and Jed. She said she loves to read Sir Walter Scott's stories with their daring adventures.

  Her face was aglow. I had never seen her look prettier.

  It's odd that Jed never seems to take much notice of Jane Ellen. When I read my journal to him, I skipped over the parts about feeling cross with her. I think I had been a bit jealous.

  I would have to say that I am not at all jealous of Jane Ellen anymore. Jed thinks I am a good writer. In his eyes, that is the very best thing in the world to be.

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  One of the Smith boys had a terrible accident today. He and some other boys were roaming the battlefields and found some shells. When the Smith boy picked one up, it went off in his face. He is not expected to live.

  People from out of town also roam the battlefields. They are looking for souvenirs, such as cannonballs and cartridge boxes. They even take away dried mosses and twigs! Pa thinks they are being disrespectful of the dead.

  August 19, 1863

  Jed cried today.

  He was reading to me, Pa, and Jane Ellen from

  The Death of King Arthur.

  It was the first time he has felt well enough to read.

  In
the middle of reading, he stopped and

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  just stared at the page. He was blinking hard. He seemed unable to catch his breath.

  Jane Ellen asked him what was wrong.

  In a halting, choked voice, Jed said that real battles were not like the battles in myths and legends. He said he did not understand why men did such terrible things to one another. He said that good men -- not just terrible men -- were capable of doing terrible things. This, Jed said, was the worst truth of all.

  When Jed finished, time seemed to stand still. None of us spoke. There was only the sound of Jed weeping.

  August 20, 1863

  Today Jane Ellen gave Jed a new copy book. She gave him a new pen, too.

  I stood in the doorway and watched her put them into his hands.

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  She told him that he must write. She spoke as if she were talking to a pupil.

  Jed looked up at her with surprise.

  "Write your thoughts about the war," she said firmly. "You must." Then she turned and left the room.

  Jed stared after Jane Ellen, as if he had just seen her for the first time.

  August 25, 1863

  First day of school. A number of children were not present, including Betsy and Sally. Their families ha%e not returned. Word has spread that Gettysburg is still blighted with death.

  But I was there. So were the McHenry boys, the Wallace girls, Sue Peterson, and John Scott. And our new school mistress -- Jane Ellen McCully.

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  How odd to have Jane Ellen for a teacher!

  But I did not ask her for special attention or favors. In fact, I even called her "Miss Jane Ellen" while I was at school.

  August 27, 1863

  When I came home from school today, I was greeted with a wonderful sight and a wonderful sound.

  I passed by Jed's room and saw him writing in the copy book Jane Ellen had given him.

  Then I heard Pa playing his violin in his room. He was playing a tune I had never heard before. Several times he stopped and started over again. It sounded as if he were learning a new song.