An inventory of his numerous hurts erased all doubt and convinced him that he was still among the living. An indistinct sound, like someone calling his name, startled Ike. His reflexive jerking brought more pain. The voice sounded as if it came from the bottom of a well. He strained to try to identify where the voice and the snatch of laughter that followed it might have come from but heard nothing save the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears and the ringing noises that had been near constant since the night of the artillery barrage back at Pittsburgh landing. Ike’s leg ached in a way that convinced him that it was broken. It had been immobilized with a pair of wooden splints. He felt light headed and weak as if he had been suffering from a long illness. There was a cloth tied snugly around the top of his head. A two fingered exploration of the area covered by the cloth was rewarded with a stabbing pain just above his left eye. The spot seemed moist and there was a small indentation which stung when pressure was applied.
