Tear In Time Read Online Free PDF Page A

himself around it to safety
     
      Lying
on his stomach, he rolled over and sat up against the smooth granite rock. He
heard the sound of bullets ricocheting off the boulder and deflecting into the
trees around him as he instinctively ducked from the sound. With his adrenaline
pumping, he reached down to his grass- and dirt-stained shirt and ripped off a
strip from its bottom edge. Taking the strip in both hands, he lifted the
hanging flesh and secured it to the bone with the cloth, tying a loose knot to
hold his calf in place as the pain caused him to scream in reflex.
     
      A
short distance away, a private pulling a horse-drawn ambulance heard the
painful shriek of Corporal Fletcher over the thunder of war. This was his first
pass through as he searched for casualties. Hearing the horrific screams, he
snapped the reins to the team of horses and quickly located the suffering
Corporal, barely conscious but still feeling his agony. He leaped down from the
buckboard and ran to his side with a canteen of cool water. Kneeling, he placed
the canteen to the corporal's lips and slowly poured a few swallows into his
mouth.
     
      Corporal
Fletcher, in his grave state, choked and coughed as the water entered his
mouth, causing him to cry out in pain once more. Instinctively he pushed the
private’s hand away and opened his eyes.
     
      In a
weakened voice, he said, “They've killed me. The Rebs have killed me.”
     
     
Looking down at Corporal Fletcher's blood, which had pooled under his leg, the
private quickly realized the gravity of the situation. As he reached to lift
the fading corporal, he replied, “Nonsense. Doc Morgan will have that leg off
in no time. You'll be good as new in a just a few days.” He smiled as he spoke,
hoping to lift the Corporal's spirits.
     
      Even
in the Corporal's deteriorated state, he knew the grisly torture that awaited
him once back at the makeshift hospital. He stiffened a moment and looked down
at his maimed appendage. He envisioned the painful procedure, then the
disfigured remnant that would be left as a sad reminder of the reality of war.
Disheartened, he slumped into the arms of the private, who struggled to lift
him into the waiting ambulance. Moments later, laying in one of the hard,
wooden gurneys, he was reminded of his agony as the private snapped the reins,
abruptly jarring the wagon, sending excruciating pain through his gaping wound
and up his spine.
     
     
“Sorry,” the Private responded sincerely, although there was little he could do
to improve the comfort of the wounded.
     
     
Moments later, through his own screams of agony, he heard the cries of another
wounded soldier being loaded into the wooden ambulance. He glanced over to see
a young boy of sixteen, thin, with wavy yellow hair, being roughly hauled into
the gurney on the opposite side of the wagon. With the ghastly wound in his
stomach, he didn't have long to live. His blues eyes were sunken and dulled
from the loss of blood, a good deal of which completely saturated his shirt and
pants, as well as his hands, as he had tried in relieve the pain with pressure
to his wound. Lying there in his agony, he cried out to God to end his
suffering. Corporal Fletcher could almost feel the young boy's despair as he
irrationally waited in vain for a higher power to answer his dying prayer. With
the realization that he was all alone, he retreated into the far recesses of his
mind, his last haven for solace. Rolling his head from side to side, he
murmured under his breath, "Mama, mama." At the end of his
consciousness, unable to speak, Corporal Fletcher mustered the last bit of his
strength as he stretched out a weak, shaking hand, and gently laid it upon the
private’s shoulder.
     
      The
young private’s eyes widened a moment as he quietly spoke in a receiving tone,
"Mama. I love you."
     
      As the
corporal’s world went black, he slipped into unconsciousness, having brought
some measure of relief to the poor