back； in carriages and wagons piled high with trunks and household goods。 Five miles ahead of the retreating army went the refugees； halting at Resaca； at Calhoun； at Kingston； hoping at each stop to hear that the Yankees had been driven back so they could return to their homes。 But there was no retracing that sunny road。 The gray troops passed by empty mansions； deserted farms； lonely cabins with doors ajar。 Here and there some lone woman remained with a few frightened slaves； and they came to the road to cheer the soldiers； to bring buckets of well water for the thirsty men； to bind up the wounds and bury the dead in their own family burying grounds。 But for the most part the sunny valley was abandoned and desolate and the untended crops stood in parching fields。
Flanked again at Calhoun； Johnston fell back to Adairsville； where there was sharp skirmishing； then to Cassville； then south of Cartersville。 And the enemy had now advanced fifty…five miles from Dalton。 At New Hope Church； fifteen miles farther along the hotly fought way； the gray ranks dug in for a determined stand。 On came the blue lines； relentlessly； like a monster serpent coiling； striking venomously； drawing its injured lengths back； but always striking again。 There was desperate fighting at New Hope Church； eleven days of continuous fighting； with every Yankee assault bloodily repulsed。 Then Johnston； flanked again； withdrew his thinning lines a few miles farther。
The Confederate dead and wounded at New Hope Church ran high。 The wounded flooded Atlanta in train…loads and the town was appalled。 Never； even after the battle of Chickamauga； had the town seen so many wounded。 The hospitals overflowed and wounded lay on the floors of empty stores and upon cotton bales in the warehouses。 Every hotel； boarding house and private residence was crowded with sufferers。 Aunt Pitty had her share； although she protested that it was most unbecoming to have strange men in the house when Melanie was in a delicate condition and when gruesome sights might bring on premature birth。 But Melanie reefed up her top hoop a little higher to hide her thickening figure and the wounded invaded the brick house。 There was endless cooking and lifting and turning and fanning； endless hours of washing and rerolling bandages and picking lint； and endless warm nights made sleepless by the babbling delirium of men in the next room。 Finally the choked town could take care of no more and the overflow of wounded was sent on to the hospitals at Macon and Augusta。
With this backwash of wounded bearing conflicting reports and the increase of frightened refugees crowding into the already crowded town； Atlanta was in an uproar。 The small cloud on the horizon had blown up swiftly into a large； sullen storm cloud and it was as though a faint； chilling wind blew from it。
No one had lost faith in the invincibility of the troops but everyone； the civilians at least； had lost faith in the General。 New Hope Church was only thirty…five miles from Atlanta！ The General had let the Yankees push him back sixty…five miles in three weeks！ Why didn’t he hold the Yankees instead of everlastingly retreating？ He was a fool and worse than a fool。 Graybeards in the Home Guard and members of the state militia； safe in Atlanta； insisted they could have managed the campaign better and drew maps on tablecloths to prove their contentions。 As his lines grew thinner and he was forced back farther； the General called desperately on Governor Brown for these very men； but the state troops felt reasonably safe。 After all； the Governor had defied Jeff Davis’ demand for them。 Why should he accede to General Johnston？
Fight and fall back！ Fight and fall back！ For seventy miles and twenty…five days the Confederates had fought almost daily。 New Hope Church was behind the gray troops now； a memory in a mad haze of like memories； heat； dust； hunger； weariness； tramp…tramp on the red rutted roads； slop…slop through the red mud； retreat； entrench； fight—retreat； entrench； fight。 New Hope Church was a nightmare of another life and so was Big Shanty； where they turned and fought the Yankees like demons。 But； fight the Yankees till the fields were blue with dead； there were always more Yankees； fresh Yankees； there was always that sinister southeast curving of the blue lines toward the Confederate rear； toward the railroad—and toward Atlanta！
From Big Shanty； the weary sleepless lines retreated down the road to Kennesaw Mountain； near the little town of Marietta； and here they spread their lines in a ten…mile curve。 On the steep sides of the mountain they dug their rifle pits and on the towering heights they planted their batteries。 Swearing； sweating men hauled the heavy guns up the precipitous slopes； for mules could not climb the hillsides。 Couriers and wounded coming into Atlanta gave reassuring reports to the frightened townspeople。 The heights of Kennesaw were impregnable。 So were Pine Mountain and Lost Mountain near by which were also fortified。 The Yankees couldn’t dislodge Old Joe’s men and they could hardly flank them now for the batteries on the mountain tops commanded all the roads for miles。 Atlanta breathed more easily； but—
But Kennesaw Mountain was only twenty…two miles away！
On the day when the first wounded from Kennesaw Mountain were coming in； Mrs。 Merriwether’s carriage was at Aunt Pitty’s house at the unheard…of hour of seven in the morning； and black Uncle Levi sent up word that Scarlett must dress immediately and come to the hospital。 Fanny Rising and the Bonnell girls； roused early from slumber； were yawning on the back seat and the Risings’ mammy sat grumpily on the box； a basket of freshly laundered bandages on her lap。 Off Scarlett went； unwillingly for she had danced till dawn the night before at the Home Guard’s party and her feet were tired。 She silently cursed the efficient and indefatigable Mrs。 Merriwether； the wounded and the whole Southern Confederacy； as Prissy buttoned her in her oldest and raggedest calico frock which she used for hospital work。 Gulping down the bitter brew of parched corn and dried sweet potatoes that passed for coffee； she went out to join the girls。
She was sick of all this nursing。 This very day she would tell Mrs。 Merriwether that Ellen had written her to come home for a visit。 Much good this did her； for that worthy matron； her sleeves rolled up； her stout figure swathed in a large apron； gave her one sharp look and said： “Don’t let me hear any more such foolishness； Scarlett Hamilton。 I’ll write your mother today and tell her how much we need you； and I’m sure she’ll understand and let you stay。 Now； put on your apron and trot over to Dr。 Meade。 He needs someone to help with the dressings。”
“Oh； God；” thought Scarlett drearily； “that’s just the trouble。 Mother will make me stay here and I shall die if I have to smell these stinks any longer！ I wish I was an old lady so I could bully the young ones； instead of getting bullied—and tell old cats like Mrs。 Merriwether to go to Halifax！”
Yes； she was sick of the hospital； the foul smells； the lice； the aching； unwashed bodies。 If there had ever been any novelty and romance about nursing； that had worn off a year ago。 Besides； these men wounded in the retreat were not so attractive as the earlier ones had been。 They didn’t show the slightest interest in her and they had very little to say beyond： “How’s the fightin’ goin’？ What’s Old Joe doin’ now？ Mighty clever fellow。 Old Joe。” She didn’t think Old Joe a mighty clever fellow。 All he had done was let the Yankees penetrate eighty…eight miles into Georgia。 No； they were not an attractive lot。 Moreover； many of them were dying； dying swiftly； silently； having little strength left to combat the blood poisoning； gangrene； typhoid and pneumonia which had set in before they could reach Atlanta and a doctor。
The day was hot and the flies came in the open windows in swarms； fat lazy flies that broke the spirits of the men as pain could not。 The tide of smells and pain rose and rose about her。 Perspiration soaked through her freshly starched dress as she followed Dr。 Meade about； a basin in her hand。
Oh； the nausea of standing by the doctor； trying not to vomit when his bright knife cut into mortifying flesh！ And oh； the horror of hearing the screams from the operating ward where amputations were going on！ And the sick； helpless sense of pity at the sight of tense； white faces of mangled men waiting for the doctor to get to them； men whose ears were filled with screams； men waiting for the dreadful words： “I’m sorry； my boy； but that hand will have to come off。 Yes； yes； I know； but look； see those red streaks？ It’ll have to come off。”
Chloroform was so scarce now it was used only for the worst amputations and opium was a precious thing； used only to ease the dying out of life； not the living out of pain。 There was no quinine and no iodine at all。 Yes； Scarlett was sick of it all； and that morning she wished that she； like Melanie； had the excuse of pregnancy to offer。 That was about the only excuse that was socially acceptable for not nursing these days。
When noon came； she put off her apron and sneaked away from the hospital while Mrs。 Merriwether was busy writing a letter for a gangling； illiterate mountaineer。 Scarlett felt that she could stand it no longer。 It was an imposition on her and she knew that when the wounded came in on the noon train there would be enough work to keep her busy until night…fall—and probably without anything to eat
She went hastily up the two short blocks to Peachtree Street breathing the unfouled air in as deep gulps as her tightly laced corset would permit。 She was standing on the corner； uncertain as to what she would do next； ashamed to go home to Aunt Pitty’s but determined not to go back to the hospital； when Rhett Butler drove by。
“You look like the ragpicker’s child；” he observed； his eyes taking in the mended lavender calico； streaked with perspiration and splotched here and there with water which had slopped from the basin。 Scarlett was furious with embarrassment and indignation。 Why did he always notice women’s clothing and why was he so rude as to remark upon her present untidine