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Chapter 37

Kolozsvár (Cluj)


The defeated Moldavian army in Déj had withdrawn to Szamosújvár. Upon arrival, they were greeted by a small but potent Transylvanian force comprised of Prince Rákóczi’s personal court corps, Hajdu mercenaries from the Partium, and two Székely infantry companies. A force smaller than General von Mercy’s vanguard, to be sure, but large and dangerous enough to convince General Radu that retreat was the best course of action. The Moldavians, stuck between a hammer and an anvil, withdrew back toward the Eastern Carpathians, leaving the road to Kolozsvár wide open.

Some of the officers in the ranks wanted to pursue the Moldavians to the grave, as Captain Kinsky had said, to finish the job, but neither Colonel Renz nor General von Mercy agreed to such a fruitless endeavor. Instead, they stuck to the original plan: move to Kolozsvár and await the arrival of General Roth and the rest of the Grand Army of the Sunrise, which was already in-country, on its way, and only one, maybe two weeks out, weather and road conditions permitting.

Isaac Kohen and his staff had assembled their hospital tent and were tending to patients still recovering from wounds received at the Battle of Déj, when General von Mercy wanted to see him.

Headquarters was mad with activity. Nearly all senior officers were in attendance, with their aide-de-camps, personal servants, and staff. Officers of the baggage train were there as well, including the quartermaster and his staff. Isaac assumed that they had all been assembled for a meeting. Such was not the case.

“Ah, Doctor Kohen,” von Mercy said, waving him through the forest of officers. “Come, come.”

“You wanted to see me, General?”

The general handed the quartermaster a signed document, then said with a wipe of his sweaty and much receded hairline, “How are you and yours set with medical supplies?”

Isaac nodded. “Adequate, although it’s never enough. We had to use a lot of our supply in Déj, as you know. I’m glad we’re here in Kolozsvár now. It’ll be nice to reassemble the full medical corps when General Roth arrives.”

Von Mercy pulled a rueful face. “Yes, well, that’s why I’ve called you here. Don’t get too comfortable, Doctor. We’re heading to the capital tomorrow first light.”

“Sir?”

“Gáspár has just received a request from Prince George Rákóczi that we attend him immediately. I’ve discussed the matter with Morris, and he’s agreed to it. We’re leaving just enough of the Brethren behind to find, assemble, and secure a landing site for the planes. Morris is bringing the air force with him. So, get your people to pack it all up and be ready to depart.”

He went back to other business, as if the matter was done and closed.

“No, sir.”

At first, von Mercy didn’t seem to hear Isaac’s refusal. He did the second time.

“Say again?” the general asked, pausing his conversation with Colonel Renz.

Isaac took a deep breath. “Sir, we just assembled the hospital tent a few hours ago. Wounded have been transferred from wagons to beds. I can’t ask my people, who’ve been working nonstop since Déj, to ‘pack it all up’ again. No, sir. We’ll stay here until General Roth arrives.”

Von Mercy shook his head. “No, Doctor. We’re heading to the capital. I need my entire senior staff with me, including you. We’re only leaving a large enough force behind to secure a landing site. Not enough to protect and support a medical operation. I don’t have to remind you, Doctor, that we are in hostile territory. Granted, we’ve more support here in Kolozsvár than in Déj, but the Impalers are still out there, despite Gretchen’s fearful display of their severed heads. Perhaps their bands are a little smaller now, a little less prominent than they might have been prior to such a display, but they’re still in the field. By God, they cut the throats of three of our sleeping soldiers just the other day. Shot one of our company commanders.”

“Yes,” Isaac said, “and I lost four patients from Szamosújvár to here simply because we packed them onto wagons. I can’t afford to lose any other patients, sir. No, as senior medical officer of this endeavor, I refuse to move and thus endanger any further patients. We’ll risk staying.”

By now, the activity in the room had fallen silent. Some were still talking to each other, but in muted tones. All their attention had turned toward Isaac and General von Mercy’s red face.

“Your patients? Your patients, Doctor, are my soldiers. My men. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that?”

Isaac shook his head. “No, sir. I’ve not forgotten. But you are not a doctor, and you can’t possibly know how severely wounded some of my patients—your soldiers—are. I’m telling it to you straight: they cannot be moved, or you risk losing them all.”

“Now look here,” von Mercy said, coming out from behind his desk, anger accentuating his red cheeks. “Don’t you come into my headquarters and refuse an order from me, Doctor Kohen. You serve at my pleasure. You will pack up the tent, and you will come follow us to the capital.”

At his sides, Isaac’s hands were shaking. He felt faint, light-headed. He wanted to throw up, but he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and said, “No, sir. I will not.”

“If you do not, then I will relieve you of your service.”

“You may do so. That is your prerogative. But as long as I am chief medical officer of your army, I will not move my patients one more mile until I deem them able to travel.”

Von Mercy nodded. “Very well. Then I relieve you of—”

“General von Mercy!” Colonel Renz stepped forward to put his body between them. “Please…if I may… ”

Isaac took a breath and stepped back. He hadn’t realized that he had been holding his breath. Von Mercy stepped back as well, his face still colored in anger.

“Doctor Kohen,” Colonel Renz said, stepping out of their way, “it is inappropriate for you to challenge General von Mercy’s authority in such a manner. However”—he shot a wary glance at von Mercy—“General, couldn’t we find a compromise on this matter?”

Von Mercy looked at his officer. “What do you mean?”

“Sir Veres,” Colonel Renz said, looking past them to Prince Rákóczi’s liaison. “General von Mercy’s concern is the safety of his men and medical team if they stay here in Kolozsvár. Could you perhaps ask one of the commanders of the two Székely companies that escorted us from Szamosújvár to leave some of his men behind to garrison and protect Doctor Kohen’s staff and supplies?”

Gáspár Bojthi Veres seemed out of breath from watching the argument unfold. “Yes, yes. I’m sure they would accommodate your needs.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Sir,” Colonel Renz said, “will that satisfy your safety concerns?”

Von Mercy was silent for a grueling moment. He glanced around the room, then nodded. “That will be fine.”

Isaac saw Colonel Renz staring him down, nodding subtly toward the general with eyes wide open. He got the hint. “Yes, I’m fine with that as well, General. I thank you. And I apologize for my outburst. It’s been a stressful several weeks.”

Von Mercy nodded. “I can attest to that.” He moved back to the other side of the table as the conversation and activity in the room returned to its brisk pace. “That’s the end of it. We’ll miss you in the capital, Doctor. While here, you will maintain good order amongst your staff and ensure that your patients—my men—are properly cared for as you await General Roth’s arrival. But I want a written report from you about the status of each of your patients by nightfall. Understood?”

Isaac nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You may go now.”

Isaac turned to Colonel Renz and mouthed a silent “Thank you.” The colonel didn’t respond; he just continued with his duties as if nothing had happened. As did seemingly everyone else in the room. It was as if the argument hadn’t occurred.

Isaac left. Once outside, he found a tree and leaned against it. He let the bile of his stomach rise into his throat and then leaned over and vomited all over its exposed roots.

✧ ✧ ✧

It was late, near midnight, and Christian von Jori stepped into the hospital tent. Lighting was poor, but he found Devorah Bayer tending to the infected leg of a Joshua Corps infantryman. He stepped quietly between the rows of sleeping men—some snoring, some moaning in restless pain, some wide awake.

Devorah saw him and smiled. “Guten abend, Christian.”

Guten abend, Devorah. Is Isaac on duty?”

She wrung out a bloody washcloth and said quietly, “He stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.” She shook her head and twisted the cloth as if she were trying to strangle it. Christian could feel and see her agitation.

“Is there something wrong? Something with Isaac?”

Devorah kept wringing the cloth. She stopped, snapped the cloth out, laid it gently on the soldier’s wound, and applied firm pressure. She pointed toward the back wall of the tent. “Go see for yourself.”

Christian nodded. He turned, then remembered. “Oh, yes. Is Andreea Hatmanu working tonight?”

Devorah’s agitation was gone. In its place, a thin smile. “I’m sorry to say, no. She’s been summoned to the capital.”

“The capital? Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. She left this morning.”

“She’s still a member of your nursing staff, isn’t she?”

Again, Devorah shrugged.

He wanted to say more but left it alone. Saying anything else would, perhaps, reveal his feelings. Then again, just asking if Andreea was working probably had done just that, though judging from Devorah’s sly smile, she already had an inkling of his feelings. How? He had never confided in Devorah anything. How could she know?

Danke, Devorah,” he said with a short bow. “I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

He found Isaac sitting on a rock overlooking Kolozsvár. Flickering lantern light captured the expanse of the city beautifully. Though near midnight, the whinny of horses, the far-off moan of cattle, the howls of dogs all gathered in the dark to give Christian a sense of peace and comfort. These, he was happy to note, were not the sounds of war.

Guten abend, Isaac,” Christian said, finding a rock beside him.

The abrupt greeting shook Isaac from his euphoric stare across the city. He nearly fell off his rock. He collected himself and offered Christian a bottle. “Ah, Captain von Jori. Please sit. Have some wine.”

Christian took his hat off and laid it aside. “Very well,” he said, grabbing the bottle and taking a drink. The warm, red liquid felt like heaven on his lips and in his dry throat. He wished he could down the whole thing, and perhaps it was best to get rid of it, judging from how the good doctor was swaying so aggressively to and fro in the light breeze.

Reluctantly, he handed the bottle back. “Thank you, but maybe you should go easy on that.” He chuckled. “Can Jews even drink alcohol?”

Isaac took a big swig and snorted. “Of course we can. In moderation. Wine is perfectly permissible, especially for ceremonial purposes.”

“Are you conducting a ceremony right now?”

Isaac took another drink. He raised the bottle in salute. “The ceremony of the spirit, Christian! To keep my spirits up…in the midst of all this death.”

The bottle dropped from Isaac’s hand. Christian tried catching it, but it slipped past him and shattered on the smaller rocks at his feet. Isaac mumbled a curse and tried grabbing a shard of glass out of the growing puddle of red liquid. Christian stopped him.

“Steady, my friend, steady. Don’t make me call Devorah out here.”

“I’m sorry, Christian,” Isaac said, allowing himself to be stopped and held. “I apologize for my behavior. I’ve had a bad, bad day.”

Christian moved Isaac off the rock and placed him on firm ground. “That’s all right. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

Isaac settled, drew his sleeve across his face to wipe wine from his lips, breathed deeply. “I thought I’d never say this, but I’m looking forward to seeing Oberheuser again.”

“Is the work becoming too much?” Christian asked. “I admit: it’s been a long march.”

Isaac held up his hand. In the faint light, it was hard to see it, but Christian could detect modest shaking. Isaac grabbed it with his other hand and held it in his lap. “I refused a direct order from the commanding officer today. I told General von Mercy that I would resign before I would pack up the hospital again and move to Gyula…Gyulafe—”

“Gyulafehérvár,” Christian said with a slight chuckle. “It’s a difficult name to pronounce.”

Isaac nodded. “I told him that I would not lose one more patient simply by moving them from one town to another.” He paused, cleared his throat. “We lost four yesterday on the road from Szamosújvár simply because I packed them in a goddamned wagon!”

He was near tears. Christian leaned Isaac into him, letting his head rest on his shoulder. “Yes, I know what you said to the general.”

“Who told you?”

“Colonel Renz. That’s why I’m here. He wanted me to check in on you, make sure that you were all right.”

“It was a stupid thing to do, snapping at him in his own headquarters. But I just wasn’t going to do it, Christian. I was not going to allow them to be moved again.”

Christian patted him on the back. “Don’t worry about it. Yes, it was unwise for you to challenge von Mercy’s authority in his own headquarters, but he’s a smart man, a rational man. He’ll come around to your way of thinking. In a week, it’ll all be forgotten, especially once the next fight is on.”

“It’s not just that,” Isaac said, pulling away. “It’s all of it. All of this. Before we left Kassa, I told Morris that I was unqualified to be a chief surgeon, and he assigned me anyway. He made a mistake.”

“Nonsense. You’re every bit as good as Oberheuser. You saved my sight, my life. You’ve saved countless lives. You’re a hero to many.”

Isaac sniffled. Is he crying? It was hard for Christian to know for sure, the light being so poor.

“I was a stupid boy on that bridge in Prague,” Isaac said, kicking his left leg out and pushing away the bottle shards. “When I decided on that day to become a physician, I set my expectations on what that would mean based upon my experiences there. So foolish. Since then, all the war I’ve seen is ten times worse than on that bridge. I’m not prepared for so much…death.”

Christian laid his hand on the back of Isaac’s neck and squeezed gently. “Come on, friend, don’t say such things. You are far better than that cursing buffoon—”

“You know,” Isaac said, “maybe Oberheuser has the right of it. He curses and rants and yells and wears his anger on his sleeve. Everyone thinks he’s a son of a bitch, but maybe it’s his way of dealing with all the pain and suffering. Don’t hold anything back. Wear it all on your sleeve, leave it all on the operating room floor. Then maybe, just maybe, you can sleep at night.”

Christian shook his head. “You’re not sleeping?”

Isaac shrugged. “A little, but who has time, right?”

“Doctor Kohen, I order you to get some sleep,” Christian said, “or I’ll tell Devorah.”

They both laughed at that. It was good hearing Isaac laugh; it had been so long.

“Look,” Christian said, “Oberheuser’s a swine. He may be a good doctor, but he’s a swine. When I look into his eyes, I don’t see a man who cares. He doesn’t look upon his patients like you do. They watch you as you work the tent. They respond to you. You walk past their beds, and they look upon you with reverence, as if you’re Jesus.”

“Don’t say that, Christian,” Isaac said, giving his friend a little push. “I don’t need God’s wrath brought down upon me as well as everything else.”

Christian chuckled and pushed Isaac back. “But it’s true. You’re the one they care about. And it’s not just your patients. It’s your nurses, too. All of them. Why do you think Devorah risked her service to the Sunrise by defying Oberheuser’s demand to stay behind? Because she wants to work with you. She has to work with you. You matter, Isaac, and we need you.”

He pulled Isaac close again, gave him a tight hug around the shoulders. “Stick with it, Isaac. It’ll all be over soon. The capital is near. We’ve not much longer to go. And I want you to be there at the end, so that I can buy you a new bottle of wine. And on that day, we’ll drink in real celebration.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

Both Christian and Isaac started and turned abruptly.

“Rabbi Gotkin,” Christian said, standing. “Nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”

“Yes,” Gotkin said, nodding. “I’m glad to see you again, too, Captain.” He motioned to Isaac. “May I have some time alone with Isaac, please, sir?”

Christian fixed his uniform, grabbed his hat, and placed it back on his head. “Of course.” He turned back to Isaac and smiled. “I’ll check in on you again before we head out in the morning to the capital.”

“That will be fine,” Isaac said. “And thank you, Christian, for sharing your time with me and my wine.”

“Doctor…Rabbi.” Christian bid them both goodbye and walked away.

It was nearly one in the morning now, and Christian had to find some of that elusive sleep for himself before he and his company struck camp and headed toward Gyulafehérvár with the rest of General von Mercy’s army. He hoped that what he had told Isaac was true, that all the fighting, the war, would end soon. But now he wasn’t so sure.

Word from the Transylvanian capital was that the Wallachian and Moldavian armies were moving fast. A fight was coming, and right soon.

Christian paused and looked back toward the hospital tent, listening to the soft, quiet prayer being shared between Isaac and Rabbi Gotkin. He said a prayer for himself, and then turned and walked away.


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