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Chapter 19

Kassa (Košice)

Medical encampment


Isaac felt the table quake beneath him. He jerked his head up and heard Rabbi Gotkin’s anxious voice. “Wake up, Isaac. Wake up. Time to go!”

“Where—” Falling asleep in a chair, with one’s head resting on medical supply sheets, was not ideal. But in truth, it had been one of the most gratifying sleeps Isaac had gotten since he had spoken to and prayed with Morris and Jason.

He rubbed his face, shook his head. “What?”

“We’re leaving,” Jason said, “for Transylvania. Right now.”

Isaac rubbed his face again and stood. “What are you talking about?” He reflexively looked at his wrist like he had seen up-timers do in Grantville and Magdeburg many times; sometimes checking a watch that was there, sometimes not. Isaac didn’t have a watch. “We’re not supposed to leave in another day, two days? What’s going on?”

“We’re getting the jump on Murad,” Jason said, opening the flap of the tent and pointing outside. “Or so that’s what I’ve been told. Move and countermove. All a game of chess. Let’s go!”

Fighting grogginess, Isaac grabbed his white coat and stethoscope, put the coat on, wrapped the stethoscope around his neck, and stepped out.

The encampment was stirring. Men moved quickly everywhere. Isaac could hear officers shouting orders in the distance. Horses were moving. Columns were moving. Doctor Oberheuser waited.

“You got everything you need, bo—Doctor?” He asked, nearly stumbling into old habits. “You ready to go?”

Isaac breathed deeply, nodded. “Yes. Ahh”—he scratched his head—“four wagons of supplies.”

“Got enough canvas for a med tent?”

“Yes. That’s in the fourth wagon. PPE, suture material, poultices, scalpels, tweezers, drills, saws, three pressure cookers. Iodine—what little there is—bandages, some gauze. Needles. I’m set on supply. My staff requests?”

The old doctor handed him a clipboard. “Approved. I removed one nurse and one field medic. I need them here with me. Now, get the rest ready to go.” He put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Do your duty. Do it well. Don’t embarrass me. Good luck.”

Doctor Oberheuser stepped away. “Thank you, Doctor,” Isaac said as he looked at the roster. “I’ll do my best.”

The names were good, good, good…damn!

Nope, never, nada!

He cursed, slapped the clipboard across his thigh, and walked, through dim lantern and moonlight, across the field to the nurses’ tent.

Devorah was waiting there at the flap. “I’m sorry, Isaac. I tried to get the old man to let me go, but—”

“Forget what he wants,” Isaac said. “You’re coming with me.”

“But—”

He leaned into her and whispered, “Shhh…do as I say. Get your personals and go to the tent wagon. Quickly, now.”

A mischievous smile spread across her face. She winked. “Ja, Herr Doctor.”

Isaac spent the next thirty minutes making sure his staff was up and ready to go. He instructed them to collect all their personal belongings, including any personal medical equipment, and then meet him at the wagons.

Doctor Oberheuser had also rejected his request for young Tobias, but Isaac could live with that. The young medic was inquisitive and a quick study, indeed, but there were other medics accepted who were just as studious. His medical staff could manage without Tobias. Not without Devorah.

He met her at the tent wagon. He pulled up some canvas. “Climb up under here and keep quiet. I don’t know if Herr Doctor will be around again, but we’ll play it safe.”

Devorah gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Bless you, Isaac. There is no other doctor I wish to serve but you.”

“Thank you, Devorah,” he said, feeling the warm rush of blood to his face. “Now, get in and keep quiet.”

Isaac laid the canvas over her gently and then proceeded with his inspection.

All four wagons were fully loaded and ready to go. The horses and driver for each wagon were set and waiting. His staff arrived piecemeal, and as they did, he marked their names off the roster and then had them climb in and find a seat in the wagons wherever possible. He wanted staff spread across all four wagons, so that they could keep an eye on the contents therein. Three of the four wagons were covered, so that was good. It would not do to have medical supplies and equipment getting damaged and soiled by rain and whatever else they might encounter. The fourth wagon, the one he would ride to ensure Devorah’s continued safety, was not covered, but the entire bed was heaped with canvas and poles and rope and everything needed to construct a good, sturdy medical tent once they got to Transylvania.

Rabbi Gotkin and the rest of the chaplain corps moved their wagons into place behind the fourth wagon. Behind them would come the rest of the baggage train; not as long as the one that had pulled out of Krakow, but long enough: a sizeable detachment of the Sunrise was moving out.

Isaac climbed into the seat next to the Brethren teamster, got as comfortable as possible, and waited for the signal to move to be trumpeted.

Len Tanner and a wagonload of communications equipment past by on the left. Isaac gave a small nod and wave. Len tipped his hat. Men from the First Regiment of the Joshua Corps moved by in column, singing a Yiddish song about strife and war. They all wore their yarmulkes.

Isaac fished into his coat pocket, pulled his cap out and fastened it to his hair.

Be a proud Jew.

General Mercy and his sizeable staff passed on horseback. Then came Colonel Renz’s Second Cavalry Regiment.

Callenberk’s company of heavy cavalry, mostly dragoons, followed Kinsky’s “Wild Elite” to the front of the column. Truckmuller and Horst followed them, line after line after line of horses making the ground shake. Their collective rumble drowned out any other sounds that Isaac might hear in a roused camp. All he could see and hear was a wave of brown, gray, white, black, and rust-colored horses, on and on and on as they passed by. The light cavalry was to protect the baggage train and serve as flankers. There was no anticipation of meeting any serious resistance on their march to Transylvania, but General Mercy was not about to have his column interrupted by any unforeseen foe, Ottoman or otherwise. They would be moving through the narrow defile between two hostile entities: the magnates on one side and potentially the Ottomans on the other, assuming that Murad would move so far northeast to catch them unawares. If the supply train was hit before they arrived in Transylvania, the entire operation might be slowed, or come to a halt altogether.

Isaac waited until the rush of cavalry subsided. He turned his head up toward the moonlight, caught the strong whiff of horse hide and dung, torn up ground, and heavy dust. The dust settled and Christian von Jori appeared.

Sitting atop his beautiful dark brown Hanoverian, Christian was not dressed in full battle garb. This was a march, not a fight. He wore a light tan shirt loosely collected at his waist with a small leather belt. He wore thick canvas leggings and spurs, and riding gloves. He also wore a hat, though Isaac remembered Christian complaining about its fit. Was it new? Hard to tell in the faint light and with his horse caught up in the energy of the moment. It was all Christian could do to keep the beast from sprinting off. But he held the reins tightly and maneuvered his control back and forth to keep the horse as still as possible.

“Isn’t it glorious, Isaac?” Christian asked, his voice high and louder than normal. “We’re off to war.”

“Yes, yes, very glorious,” Isaac answered lazily. “But it’s too early for all this. In the middle of the night? Couldn’t they let us sleep a while longer?”

Christian laughed. “We’re going to beat that son of a bitch to Transylvania, and he’ll wish he’d stayed in Lenz.”

Isaac nodded, realizing that his pessimism, his overly cautious “all business and no play” attitude would not serve him now. Like the horse, Christian’s blood was running hot, his excitement, his emotions pulling on the slips. Isaac liked seeing the captain so excited, so driven in the moment. It was a far cry better than when they had first met in the tent months ago when Christian seemed on the verge of deep depression.

Isaac couldn’t help himself. “How’s your eye?”

Christian seemed to have forgotten the eye patch still in place over his face. He reached up, took off his hat, and then pulled the patch off. “It’s perfect, Herr Doctor. I don’t need this anymore.”

He handed it over. Isaac paused and then reluctantly accepted it. He tucked it into his coat pocket. “How far can you see?”

Christian shrugged. “Far enough to slash a Janissary in two.” He thumbed toward the saber at his belt.

Isaac nodded and spared a slight smile. “Let us hope it never comes to that.”

A trumpet sounded far up the column. It was time to go.

“I’m glad you’re coming with us, Isaac,” Christian said. “They tell me you’re a good doctor.”

Isaac chuckled. “So I’ve been told.”

Christian turned his horse up the column. “See you on the march.”

Isaac saluted quickly. “Be safe, Captain, and go with God.”

Christian spurred his horse, and he was gone.

They waited another ten minutes before the mass of men, horses, and wagons began to move in front of them. The teamster sitting beside Isaac called to the horses by name, snapped his reins, and the wagon rolled forward.


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