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- Маргарет Митчелл
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- Стр. 280/927
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For
a
moment
she
could
not
understand
what
it
all
meant
and
then
,
remembering
that
the
commissary
warehouses
were
down
by
the
railroad
tracks
,
she
realized
that
the
army
had
thrown
them
open
to
the
people
to
salvage
what
they
could
before
the
Yankees
came
.
She
pushed
her
way
swiftly
through
the
crowds
,
past
the
packed
,
hysterical
mob
surging
in
the
open
space
of
Five
Points
,
and
hurried
as
fast
as
she
could
down
the
short
block
toward
the
depot
.
Through
the
tangle
of
ambulances
and
the
clouds
of
dust
,
she
could
see
doctors
and
stretcher
bearers
bending
,
lifting
,
hurrying
.
Thank
God
,
she
'd
find
Dr.
Meade
soon
.
As
she
rounded
the
corner
of
the
Atlanta
Hotel
and
came
in
full
view
of
the
depot
and
the
tracks
,
she
halted
appalled
.
Lying
in
the
pitiless
sun
,
shoulder
to
shoulder
,
head
to
feet
,
were
hundreds
of
wounded
men
,
lining
the
tracks
,
the
sidewalks
,
stretched
out
in
endless
rows
under
the
car
shed
.
Some
lay
stiff
and
still
but
many
writhed
under
the
hot
sun
,
moaning
.
Everywhere
,
swarms
of
flies
hovered
over
the
men
,
crawling
and
buzzing
in
their
faces
,
everywhere
was
blood
,
dirty
bandages
,
groans
,
screamed
curses
of
pain
as
stretcher
bearers
lifted
men
.
The
smell
of
sweat
,
of
blood
,
of
unwashed
bodies
,
of
excrement
rose
up
in
waves
of
blistering
heat
until
the
fetid
stench
almost
nauseated
her
.
The
ambulance
men
hurrying
here
and
there
among
the
prostrate
forms
frequently
stepped
on
wounded
men
,
so
thickly
packed
were
the
rows
,
and
those
trodden
upon
stared
stolidly
up
,
waiting
their
turn
.
She
shrank
back
,
clapping
her
hand
to
her
mouth
feeling
that
she
was
going
to
vomit
.
She
could
n't
go
on
.
She
had
seen
wounded
men
in
the
hospitals
,
wounded
men
on
Aunt
Pitty
's
lawn
after
the
fighting
at
the
creek
,
but
never
anything
like
this
.
Never
anything
like
these
stinking
,
bleeding
bodies
broiling
under
the
glaring
sun
.
This
was
an
inferno
of
pain
and
smell
and
noise
and
hurry
--
hurry
--
hurry
!
The
Yankees
are
coming
!
The
Yankees
are
coming
!
She
braced
her
shoulders
and
went
down
among
them
,
straining
her
eyes
among
the
upright
figures
to
distinguish
Dr.
Meade
.
But
she
discovered
she
could
not
look
for
him
,
for
if
she
did
not
step
carefully
she
would
tread
on
some
poor
soldier
.
She
raised
her
skirts
and
tried
to
pick
her
way
among
them
toward
a
knot
of
men
who
were
directing
the
stretcher
bearers
.
As
she
walked
,
feverish
hands
plucked
at
her
skirt
and
voices
croaked
:
"
Lady
--
water
!
Please
,
lady
,
water
!
For
Christ
's
sake
,
water
!
"
Perspiration
came
down
her
face
in
streams
as
she
pulled
her
skirts
from
clutching
hands
.
If
she
stepped
on
one
of
these
men
,
she
'd
scream
and
faint
.
She
stepped
over
dead
men
,
over
men
who
lay
dull
eyed
with
hands
clutched
to
bellies
where
dried
blood
had
glued
torn
uniforms
to
wounds
,
over
men
whose
beards
were
stiff
with
blood
and
from
whose
broken
jaws
came
sounds
which
must
mean
:
"
Water
!
Water
!
"
If
she
did
not
find
Dr.
Meade
soon
,
she
would
begin
screaming
with
hysteria
.
She
looked
toward
the
group
of
men
under
the
car
shed
and
cried
as
loudly
as
she
could
:
