10. LEE
MAY 5, 1864
HE HAD RISEN EARLY, WELL BEFORE THE FIRST LIGHT. HE TRIED TO see the campfires where Grant had stopped for the night, and rode out late to catch some glimpse, some flicker of light. But he knew the Wilderness, knew he could see very little in any direction, not even the camps of his own men, spread behind him beyond the trees. He thought of Grant, thought, You have made a mistake, you have surrendered your advantage, you have penned yourself up in the one place I would have chosen, and now I will find a way to hurt you.
He rode Traveller through the dark, thought of coffee, but could not go back to the small fire and wait for the daylight. He was more excited than he could remember, felt the twist in his gut, felt himself breathing heavily. You knew what it felt like, when there would certainly be a fight, when the armies were very close, like two waves rolling in opposite directions, a force no one could stop. Always he’d thought of God, had prayed that not too many would die, and he rarely asked for more than that; asking for victory or the death of your enemies was not appropriate somehow. He would quote the verse, silently to himself, Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight … touch the mountains and they shall smoke …
He had memorized that verse years before, Psalm 144, knew somehow, strangely, that it was for him, that God had put those words there as a sign, words to guide him to his duty. For nearly two years now, since that rainy night on the peninsula when Davis had given him command of this army, he’d led them knowing that God was there, truly, and those few words had so much meaning. If anyone doubted that, they had only to recall the great victories, the men marching into the horror with the calm, the absolute confidence, they shared with him. It did not matter who led those other boys, or how many more there might be across the fields. God had set this all in motion, and the outcome was already determined.
He thought now of that awful day at Gettysburg. He could not escape that, knew God was there as well, and he would never understand why it had happened, had never believed it would end like that. It was still fresh in his mind, would come to him at times like this, when the new fight was coming fast, reminding him that on that one field, God had turned against them. He struggled to understand, could only guess: We were not on our own land. The invasion north had been a difficult decision, and always there was something uncomfortable, a small voice in his mind that he tried to avoid. When we fight in Virginia, we are defending our own land, and we are victorious. But we invade their land, and God takes that away. The verse came again: Cast forth lightning and scatter them: shoot out thine arrows and destroy them … deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of strange children …
He rode back down the Plank Road, toward his staff, could hear the motion of men in the woods around him. He stopped, listened hard, turned to the north, thought, Maybe … I should ride up there, see what Ewell is doing. But no, I must let them command. He knows my orders. He saw the face in the dark, the strange high-strung man, so excitable, quick to anger, and he thought, Something has been taken from him. It was something inside Ewell himself, some personal defeat that Lee did not understand. It could be the missing leg, of course, but around the camps the staff was making unkind comments about Ewell’s wife, her domination of her new husband. Lee had met her briefly, and knew she was always close to Ewell now; the jokes rippled through the staff about the petticoat command. Lee tried not to judge, and his staff did not make their jokes in his presence. He did not spend much time in Ewell’s camp, still preferred to be closer to Longstreet, as it had always been, even when Jackson was alive.
He knew there was another reason he stayed away from Ewell’s camp. The staff consisted of many of the same people who had served with Jackson, and he knew the faces well, Sandie Pendleton, James Power Smith, the foul-mouthed quartermaster Harman. It was Pendleton in particular who affected Lee, something in the young man’s face that was clear and unmistakable, the loss, the sadness that Lee had tried so hard to put aside. Pendleton had been Jackson’s chief of staff, had been at the bedside when Jackson had breathed the last painful breath, and Lee knew he would carry that with him the rest of his life. Now Pendleton served Ewell, and Ewell had shown nothing of the influence of Jackson, of the fire, the instinct for moving forward. Pendleton knew it, they all knew it.
Lee still stared through the dark, past the small sounds close by, to the broad silence from the north. He did not like being that far away from Ewell’s corps. The two parallel roads moved apart nearly three miles at this point, something he hadn’t realized from the maps until this morning. Lee knew the turnpike was a good road and that Ewell was marching his men east. Lee had stayed close to Hill, down below on the Plank Road. The two roads eventually merged near Chancellorsville, then split again as they broke out of the Wilderness closer to Fredericksburg, but first they would pass right through the heart of Grant’s army.
He did not know how Grant’s lines were spread, only that the Federal Fifth Corps had come the closest, was somewhere near where Ewell was now marching. He did not want the fight yet, had hoped the day would dawn without a major confrontation, because they were not yet strong. Longstreet was still well back, a good day’s march from the place where Lee now sat, but he was coming. He’d been ordered to move out quickly, and Lee thought, This time he must not be slow.
It had been necessary to keep Longstreet farther west, since there had still been the chance that Grant might move out that way, try to cut Lee off from the valley. It would have been the wrong move, and though Lee did not believe Grant would make that kind of mistake, he could not take the risk and leave his own left flank unprotected. Once Grant had crossed the river and moved straight into the Wilderness, Lee immediately sent for Longstreet.
It was not by chance that Lee was close to Hill this morning. Hill was sick again, could barely ride a horse. The illness was more and more severe, and Lee had accepted that Hill might not be fit at all, might have to be relieved. But then Hill appeared, pained and weak, and declared himself ready for duty. Lee would not remove him if Hill said he could lead his men. And when Lee studied the lists of commanders, there was no name that rose above the rest, no one whom he felt comfortable with in that position. If Hill’s corps needed a commander, Lee began to realize that he might move one step closer to the line, might have to take command himself.
The men were moving into the road now. The darkness was just beginning to break, and when they passed by him, there were small noises. Only a few men cheered or raised a hat. The woods around him were now strangely silent; there was no music, none of the jovial cursing of an army pulled out of slumber. He watched the faces, saw deadly calm, men who had done this before.
He saw Hill coming up the road, the horse brought him closer, and Hill looked very bad, the eyes deep and dark, the face drawn. Even Hill’s uniform was bleak and plain, no insignia of rank, the black hat slumped down around Hill’s ears. Hill said, “Good morning, sir. Fine day for a fight.”
Lee nodded, said, “Good morning, General Hill. We should ride forward, if you please.”
Lee nudged the horse gently and moved alongside the column of men. They rode for several minutes, the daylight growing stronger, but off the road, in the woods, the daylight did not matter, there was nothing to be seen. The road curved slightly, and suddenly there was a break off to the left, a wide field. Lee saw a small house on the far side, turned the horse. Hill followed, and the staff stayed behind, spread out in the field. They moved close to the house, and Lee reined the horse, listened hard. He stared up to the north, toward the turnpike, heard a roll of musket fire, a dull rattle muffled by the dense growth. Now there was more fire, to the west, in front of Hill’s column.
Hill looked to his staff, said, “Send some people up there … I want to know who we are facing. Get me some idea of strength!” There were salutes, and men rode out toward the road, moving quickly away.
Lee said, “Your lead division … is General Het
h, is it not?”
“Yes, sir. We should have heard something by now.”
Hill was sweating, and Lee could hear the pain in his voice. Now Lee heard another sound, familiar, heavy hoofbeats, and a small group of horsemen came out of the trees in front. Lee saw it was Stuart.
Lee could not help a smile, saw the cape, the fresh uniform, his hat spouting a black peacock feather, one side of the brim pinned to the top, and he could not look at Hill now, would not subject himself to the amazing contrast between these two men.
“General Stuart, your appearance suggests something of a celebration.”
Stuart was beaming at Lee’s reception, swept the hat down in a low sweeping bow. “Mon general, I am at your service.”
Lee dismounted, and the others followed, and Lee moved closer to the old house. Stuart bounded forward, and Lee knew the sign, knew there would be a burst of words.
“General Stuart, please report.”
“Sir! You will find that the enemy has performed an admirable service. He is at this moment spread out all over the countryside. I have observed only a small force in front of this column, skirmishers mostly, but they are reinforcing. General Hill should expect to meet no more than a division at the crossroads to the east. Haste would be advisable, sir.”
Lee looked at Hill, and Hill said, “We are moving to meet them. I am aware of the importance of the Brock Road intersection. I have instructed General Heth to advance as quickly as he can.”
There was little enthusiasm in his voice. Hill did not have any of Stuart’s energy, the tight bursts of emotion, the anger and the fire for what was coming toward them. Lee said, “General Stuart, there is musket fire in the north. Have you been in contact with General Ewell?”
Stuart turned that way, and they all listened. The firing had slowed to a small scattering of faint pops.
“No, sir. I have not been able to ride up that way. The ground between the roads is quite dense, sir. I believe the maps do not account …” Stuart reached into his coat, pulled out a small piece of paper, unrolled it, studied it a brief moment, then held it out to Lee. “Here, sir. The turnpike is well north of us at this position, sir. The maps show us closer together than we really are.”
Lee listened for the guns again, but the sounds had faded into silence. He said, “Yes, I am aware that the maps are somewhat in error, and so we have a problem. There is a wide gap between us and General Ewell. He must not bring on an engagement before we have filled that gap. If General Grant discovers we are in two separate positions, he will cut us in two. General Hill, you must move a brigade off to the left, spread them into the woods to the north. We cannot allow any of Grant’s people to cut between—” He stopped, frozen. The others were watching him, and now began to turn, following his gaze.
A hundred yards away, at the far edge of the woods, a single line of blue soldiers was moving slowly forward, had stepped clear of the thick brush. Lee felt a hard cold fist in his chest, and for a moment no one moved at all. Then, across the field, one hand went up, there was a small quick shout. The blue troops stopped, facing Lee, and there was complete silence. Lee could see their faces, saw them looking straight at him, at Stuart’s striking uniform, in stunned amazement. He thought, Surely, they must know … they must know who we are … who I am. Lee turned his head slowly toward Traveller, thought about the saddlebag, the pistol he never wore, and he began to move slowly, heard his footsteps in the grass, looked again at the line of blue, the muskets slowly coming up, pointing toward them. He looked at the one man who had spoken, the man in charge, the hand still in the air, hanging there, could see the man’s fingers balling slowly into a fist. Lee reached behind him, felt for the flap of the saddlebag, reached inside, felt the steel of the pistol, wrapped his fingers around the handle, began to pull it free of the bag, still watched the one man, the fist in the air. The hand began to move, came slowly down. The man said something, a quiet voice, and the line of men suddenly backed away, merged back into the thickness of the trees and were gone.
Now Stuart moved by him, was quickly up on his horse, and Taylor had climbed onto his horse too, moved forward, put the horse between Lee and the woods. Stuart said, “They’re gone! We scared ’em away!” He began to spin the horse, yelling out, waving the hat, and now the others were all on their horses.
Lee said, “General Stuart, we should move out of this field. General Hill, I would suggest you bring your people out this way with some haste. Those men could be in advance of a much larger force. We cannot allow them to reach this place.…”
He saw a column of Hill’s men coming forward, already moving into the field, officers shouting. One man rode up close to Hill, saluted, said something Lee could not hear. Hill pointed to the far trees, and the men began to run forward, streaming past Lee. He looked at Stuart again, and Stuart was smiling, red-faced. He said, “General Lee, the enemy has missed another opportunity! They had no idea … they were so close!”
Lee looked again to the trees, saw Hill’s men forming a wide straight line, moving forward into the woods, and he began to let down, felt the cold shake in his hands, smiled, nodded at Stuart’s excitement. Yes, they had been very close. It had been up to one man, perhaps a sergeant, one man who could have given the order to fire, but instead he’d seen the situation very differently. He may have thought his small command had made a dangerous mistake, lost in the brush perhaps, seeking out some landmark, some direction, and stumbled into the lines of the enemy. Instead of making an aggressive move, of capturing or assaulting this small group of men and horses, they had been wary, cautious. Lee glanced at the sky, said a small prayer. You had a hand in this, it was not yet my time, thank You.
Stuart was still watching the trees, his horse jerking about in small jumps, and Lee could feel Stuart’s hot energy, the flare for the fight, the enemy so close to them, thought, No, General, we did not scare them away, it was this place … this infernal thicket that made them cautious. But they will go back and find their commander, and then they will return.
THEY WERE OUT IN FRONT OF HIM NOW, HAD FILED INTO THE woods, spreading into thick lines, pressing forward. There had been some musket fire, but it was not concentrated. Hill’s men had not yet found the strong lines of the enemy. Lee stared to the north, to the wide gap that still yawned between Hill and Ewell, tried to hear the sounds of a fight above them, if Ewell had gone too far forward. It was still small and scattered, and Lee thought, Wait … not yet. He had sent word back to Longstreet again, move up now, and the reply had come that Longstreet was on the move, would be there by dawn the next day.
The staff was moving all around him, couriers bringing in pieces of information. Stuart was doing what he could to protect Hill’s flanks, but the woods were no place for cavalry. There was nothing to be seen until you burst right into the faces of the enemy, then suddenly found yourself within a few yards of surprised infantry—men waiting for the sounds in front of them to become motion, something to shoot at.
He paced near the old house, knew what was happening, that both armies were groping blindly, thought, Grant is not moving away, or trying to get past us to the south, but is spread out in the tangle to our front. And that is where we need him to be.
There was a shout behind him, and Lee heard Taylor, turned, saw Pendleton coming out of the woods. Lee was suddenly anxious, the first word from Ewell since the distant sounds had reached them.
Pendleton saw him, drove the horse close, dismounted. “Sir … General Ewell sends his compliments. The general wishes to report that he has done as you instructed, sir. He has deployed across the turnpike and is now strengthening those lines, sir. The left flank is secure up toward the river, we are trying to extend the right flank in this direction. It is difficult ground, but General Early’s division is in place.” Pendleton was breathing heavily, and Lee waited, let him catch his breath.
“Thank you, Colonel. What can you tell me about the position of the enemy?”
Pendleton said, “
Sir, the enemy is right in front of us. We have observed heavy columns moving from left to right. General Ewell … General Ewell will not advance unless you order him to, sir.”
Lee saw the look in Pendleton’s face, understood the young man would say no more than that, did not have to. Lee looked up toward the north, thought, I cannot make all your decisions, General.
He looked at Pendleton, said, “We must not bring on a general engagement until we are at full strength. But if General Ewell sees the opportunity, if the enemy is vulnerable, he must not allow those people to get past him.”
Pendleton was watching him, and Lee saw something in his face: silent frustration.
“Colonel, I do not know what strength is in front of him. He must make that decision. Tell him he must do what the conditions suggest.”
Pendleton stiffened, said, “Yes, sir, I understand.”
Pendleton climbed the horse, and there was a new sound, and they all looked to the north, stared across the field past the house, felt the wave of sound roll across them, the steady high rattle of muskets, and this time it did not fade, but grew, deep and steady. Lee looked at Pendleton, said, “I believe General Ewell’s decision has been made for him.”
11. GRANT
MORNING, MAY 5, 1864
The Civil War Trilogy: Gods and Generals / the Killer Angels / the Last Full Measure Page 105