Thank You Mad Manby: Dana Owens

Betsie Malten was a tall girl of 17. She had shoulder length brown hair which she always wore back with a ribbon. Her eyes were a soft brown and her skin was a tanned to a fine brown color. She wore a plain blue cotton dress with a white apron. She and her mother were nurses in Princeton, Pennsylvania. The year was 1777, in the middle of the Revolutionary War. Seven hundred Red Coats had seized the city and times were rough. Many people were afraid to leave their homes for fear of being shot. The church bells could no longer ring for they had been melted down by the British troops into bullets. Food and water were reserved. Betsie tried her best to pretend that there was nothing wrong, which proved almost impossible. Her father and brother had gone to fight fot their country. Betsie and her younger sister Elizabeth had to work harder then ever before. They had too cook the meals, clean the clothes, shear the wool off the sheep, sew, makes soap, and many other difficult tasks. Along with all of this, Betsie had to nurse the wounded patriots. She longed for the war to end and every thing to return to normal. Christmas and New Years had just passed. The town was still buzzing with news of the British defeat on Christmas Day in Trenton, a town only a few miles from Princeton. Betsie could only hope that the next battle wouldn't be in her town.

"Elizabeth, wake up!" Betsie yelled at her. "Come on! You've got to get up!"

"All right, I'm up. What do you. . . .What's that noise?" She asked, half asleep.

Before Betsie could answer, Elizabeth ran to the window and gasped. "A battle! Did you wake Mother?" She ran down stairs and Betsie followed. When they reached the kitchen their mother was already up and preparing to leave.

"Where are you going? There is a battle right outside!" Betsie yelled in a panic.

"Yes dear, I know that. We must go to the hospital to prepare to the wounded soldiers. Now go get dressed!"

Betsie bit her lip. A battle meant overcrowding. The hospital would be very busy today.

"Well, what are you waiting for child? Hurry up!" Her mother gave her a gentle push back up the steps.

Betsie had a hectic time in the hospital. She looked out the window a few times, but the fighting seemed to last forever. Finally, after forty-five minuets, the battle ended, but the steady flow of injured soldiers didn't. There were more people than Betsie expected, over one hundred wounded soldiers. She helped in the hospital for a while then she and some other nurses went out to search for any Americans soldiers that were still alive. She hadn't been searching long when someone grabbed her leg as she walked by. She looked down and saw an English solider. He had a gunshot wound just below his knee. Betsie was about to shake his hand off her ankle when he muttered something. She made it out as "help me." She shook her head and was about to

continue when she heard him say something else.

"Please. . . ." Then the man collapsed back to the ground. Betsie hesitated, this was a red coat! She couldn't even think of trying to get one of the nurses to help him. She thought he deserved to die, but for some odd reason, she felt sorry for him.

She looked around and saw a patriot lying near by. She ran over to him and checked his pulse. He was dead. She pulled off his coat and hat and switched them with the English solider's. She yelled to one of the nurses to bring the stretcher so they could carry the man back to the hospitle. I can't believe I'm doing this! Betsie though. If anyone finds out. . . .

Betsie traded places with one of the nurses holding up the end of the stretcher. When they returned to the hospital, the doctors had to amputate his leg immediately so there would be no risk of infection.

The man drifted in and out of consciousness all that day and night. When he finially awoke, it was three days later. He propped himself up with his elbow, looked around, and realizing where he was and what had happened, laid back down. Betsie looked down at the man.

He had light brown hair and eyes. His features were very distinct and broad. She offered him water, but he shook his head and closed his eyes.

"You must drink." Betsie held the water out to him again.

This time he took the cup and drank. Betsie heard a nurse call her name.

"I'll be back in a while to change you bandages."

The man gave her a quick nod and she walked off. When she returned, the man hadn't moved much.

"Okay, this shouldn't take too long." Betsie removed the old bandages and began to put fresh ones on. "So, what's your name?"

"Caleb Smith" he said.

"I belive that was the first thing you've said since you've been here. My name is Betsie Malten."

Celed grunted. Betsie stopped what she was doing. "I saved your life out there. I could have let you die. The least you can do is be polite." she said in a low voice and then went back to the bandages.

"You're right. I am truly sorry. Only. . . .why did you? There was no reason on Earth why you should have?"

Betsie smiled. The truth of it was that she was weak and couldn't stand to see anyone suffer, no matter who they are. She didn't tell him that, instead, she just said, "Because you said please." She gave the knot she was tying in the bandage a final tug and walked away.

The next day, Betsie want to check on Caleb. "How are you feeling today? Better I trust?"

"Well, I think I'm going to die." Caleb said, and the he laughed very strangely. It became quite clear to Betsie that the man was mad.

"Nonsense. You'll be fine. I just need to. . . .fetch some more bandages. I'll be back in a moment." Betsie hurriedly left the man. What have I done? She thought. I've brought a mad man into the hospitle! A mad man at that!

When she returned with more bandages, Caleb had fallen asleep. Betsie gently shook him awake.

"What?! Oh, it's you."

"Yes, and don't act so disappointed." Betsie was about to apply some more bandages when she got an idea.

If this man trusts me, maybe I could get him to tell my the redcoat's

next attack! It's crazy, but it just might work. . . .

"Say Caleb, you wouldn't happen to know anything this war, would you?" She asked him gently.

"The war? Oh yes.. . .the war. Maybe I do."

"Well, do you think that you could tell my? We're friends, aren't we?"

"Oh, I don't believe it would be wise to. . . .but I'm probably going to die anyways, so it really wouldn't matter."

"No, I don't believe it would." Betsie could hardly believe it! This was too easy! "Burgoyne is going to lead a unit of out men from French territory into north-easteren New York. Howe is going to move up the Hudson Valley, to link near Albany. Then, hopefully, we'll invade Mohawk Valley. Good plan. Those dumb Americans will never expect it!"

I know their attack plan! Now how shall I use this to our advantage? Betsie smiled and shook her head.

"I have to go now Caleb. Another nurse will take care of you."

"You can't tell anyone of this. You must promise. . . ."

"Yes, of course, but I really must go now." Betsie grabbed her cloak and ran to the head nurse. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I must leave."

"Where are you going? You can't leave, we need you here!"

"I must see General Washington! I have information that could prove very valuable. I'll be back shortly." Without waiting for a reply, she ran out of the hospital. She knew where Washington would be in the tavern, celebrating his victory. She ran down the street to the tavern. Sure enough, he was there.

"General!" She pushed her way through the crowd of men and made her way to him. "I have information concerning the British!"

"The British? What about my dear girl?" The general asked her.

"Speak up!"

"Well, their next attack point will be Mohawk Valley."

"Mohawk Valley you say?" Betsie nodded her head. "How do you know this?"

"To make a long story short, a mad English man told me."

The General smirked. "How can I trust the word of a mad man? You can't very well plan a war on that!"

"Well, I suppose you can't, but take it form me, that elaborate plan he cooked up sure seems true to me." Betsie shrugged her shoulders.

"Thank you. I might use that to my advantage." He waved her farewell as she left.

Well, I've done my part and more. I hope General Washington can use the information I've given him, Betsie thought. Now what to do with the mad man?