The Last Full Measure

by Jeff Shaara

  The tent had been packed away, and he was pacing nervously in the yard, impatient. He saw Taylor, then Venable, coming out of the house, and Lee mounted the horse, the clear signal that it was time to move.

  Taylor moved toward his own horse, said, "Sir, we have asked General Anderson's family to remain in the cellar. I told them it could be dangerous for them today."

  Lee nodded, had not thought of that, could not think of civilians now. His mind was already out on the road, far out with Longstreet, with the advance of his army.

  On the road, the men were already moving. He watched them, and there was no cheering, the only sounds the muffled steps of weary soldiers, their short time for sleep broken by the dull pain of hunger. We had the chance, he thought, the opportunity, a good day's start. But here, we had to stop, to wait, to see what the wagons could bring us. And it cost us a day's march. There can be no delays now, none. Sheridan has good horses, while ours drop away from their own hunger. The animals have it no better than the men.

  There was a horseman, moving against the slow tide of troops, and Lee did not recognize the man, an odd sight, a neat uniform, clean, something no one saw anymore. The man had an escort, another unfamiliar face, civilian clothes. Lee sat on the horse, waited, and the officer saluted him, and now Lee could see the man's face. It was Isaac St. John.

  St. John was now the commissary general, having replaced the incompetent Northrop two months before. St. John had made his reputation for efficiency by good management of the Mining and Nitre Department. Where Lucius Northrop's mismanagement had often left the army hungry, St. John's department always kept the ammunition boxes full. In the weeks before the final collapse of Richmond, St. John had done what he could to salvage something of the commissary. Lee had no reason to doubt the man's good intentions, or his capability. It was just too little too late.

  St. John saluted Lee, shifted his weight in the saddle, a painful reminder that he had rarely been in the field.

  Lee said, "General St. John, I did not expect to see anyone from your department." There was sarcasm in his voice, and Lee regretted it immediately. He looked down, said, "I assumed you might have accompanied the president."

  St. John said, "No, Sir. I am not certain where the president is, though I believe he made it to Danville. I came here... to find out where you wanted the rations."

  Lee looked up, stared at the man in the dim lamplight.

  "What rations?

  "We have eighty thousand rations waiting at Farniville. I had ordered them to Danville, but when we realized the way was blocked, I sent them on the Southside out to Farmville. Farniville is about... eighteen miles from here, Sir."

  "I know where Farmville is, General. We are moving out that way now. Are you certain?"

  St. John seemed surprised at the question, said, "Oh yes, Sir. I was wondering if you wanted me to load some wagons and send the rations in this direction."

  There was a simple matter-of-factness to the man's words that made Lee smile. St. John showed no signs of nervousness, of the strain of what was happening all around them. Lee shook his head, said, "No. Not yet. The Federals have a large cavalry force, certainly moving toward Farmville. We may be in little more than a race. If you send wagons this way, they may be captured. We will do what we can to get to Farmville."

  St. John nodded, shifted his weight again, said, "I did not realize the urgency... I had best return to Farmville myself." He looked out toward the road, at the march of the troops.

  "Godspeed, Sir."

  Lee nodded, looked at the slow steps of the men, thought, Godspeed, indeed.

  HE CAVALRY FANNED OUT TO BOTH FLANKS, WOULD MAKE whatever stand they could against the pressure from Sheridan's horses. Longstreet's men led the march, and Lee knew he did not have to prod him, there would be no need for him to stay up front to keep the column moving. In the center, Ewell's mixed command would move behind Anderson, and behind them was much of the artillery and what remained of the wagon train. The wagons would again be sent on a parallel route, a long circling route to the north, to take them out of harm's way and to clear the road for the more rapid movement of the men. In the rear, John Gordon's troops would hold off any threat from behind, and once the wagon train was out of the way, Gordon would move up and connect with Ewell and Anderson.

  Lee had ridden all along the line, tried to see into the faces of the men, to give them something, a piece of himself, some of the cheer that they always seemed to find when they saw him. But the faces were down, staring at nothing, the steps slow and plodding, and all along the road men were falling out, simply collapsing. He moved the horse carefully, the roadside littered again with muskets. There was little else, few blankets, few knapsacks remained. The men had lost all need for comforts, for any personal items that would only require more energy to carry. Without blankets the men would sleep on the ground. Without muskets they could not fight.

  He had seen Heth, then Wilcox, Longstreet's commanders, holdIng their men together as best they could, the numbers dropping by the hour. Now Mahon 1 iled, thought e passed by him, and Lee nodded, sm* e, Li the Billy, another of the men from VMI. Lee had of the nicknam. it promoted him on the spot for Mahone's brilliant defense after the Crater explosion, and now Mahone commanded Anderson's old division, troops that had been in every major fight since Malvern Hill.

  There were some cheers now, a small number of old veterans, hard men who simply treated this as another march. Lee felt some of the energy coming back, saw hats going up, the affection as it had always been. Mahone had stopped briefly, but now was moving on, keeping his men in motion, keeping them tight against the columns in front.

  Lee could see a few guns now, small field pieces, horsemen. He rode back that way, crested a small rise, saw men scattered down along the road, some crawling away, moving into the shade of tall trees. He sat straight, could hear it now, a hard roll of thunder, the sounds of a fight echoing in the east. He had expected to see the column of troops, Pickett's men, and Anderson's and Ewell's, but felt a sickness growing in his gut, looked at a road scattered with stragglers. The sounds were louder, rolling over the low hills, and he spurred the horse, began to move across the countryside, dropped down into a small gully, then up another short hill. He stopped the horse, could hear musket fire, great rolling chatter, and he spurred the horse again, rode up that way, thought, The wagon train.

  He knew he was moving to the north, far above the main road, saw small creeks, swampy patches of woods. He climbed another rise, the ground falling away in front of him, a wide hill dropping down into tall pine trees, a small creek. The fight was all along the creek. Beyond, along the far rise, he could see great columns of smoke, small patches of flame. He raised his field glasses, tried to focus, saw it was Gordon's men, a rolling assault coming all along Gordon's lines. Lee stared, lowered the glasses, thought, The rear guard... He turned the horse, rode along the crest of the ridge, saw officers coming toward him from the main road, saw Mahone, staff officers. Lee pointed toward the road, yelled, "Where is Anderson? Where is Ewell?"

  Mahone reined up the horse, could see the smoke from Gordon's fight, said, "I don't know, Sir. They were supposed to be close up behind us."

  Lee felt the anger breaking through, could bold It back no longer, said, "Well, yes, General, I know where they are supposed to be!"

  There was a small group of cavalry now, and they rode along the crest of the hill, the men staring down into the fight along the creek. Lee looked for an officer, saw a young man, a major, said, "Who is that? Who is engaging General Gordon?"

  The man saluted, surprised, did not expect to see Lee, said, "Infantry, Sir! Looks like the Second Corps, Sir!"

  Lee stared down the long slope, thought, Infantry? I had thought cavalry perhaps. How did infantry get so close to our rear... and where is their cavalry?

  To the south, near the main road, there was a faint sound of muskets, and Lee turned the horse, said to Mahone, "General, ride with me. We have to find
General Ewell."

  They moved along the crest of the hill, and Lee saw Venable now, riding hard, waving at him. Venable pulled up, steadied himself on the horse, was breathing heavily, said, "General Lee... the wagons have been captured. The enemy's cavalry has broken through the column."

  Lee said, "Where is General Ewell? Where is General Anderson?" Venable shook his head, said, "I don't know, Sir. I don't know if they made it across the creek. We have heard nothing." He pointed down the wide hill.

  "That's Saylor's Creek, Sir. There has been a considerable fight there, Sir."

  Lee turned to Mahone, said, "I may need you, General. This way!"

  They rode farther along the crest, then dropped Into a shallow depression, climbed up again, and Lee reined the horse, looked down the hill, saw the creek bed snaking through a wide stand of tall pines. Out of the trees, men were flowing in a vast carpet up the hill, wagons without drivers, panicked horses dragging bridles. The men began to fall, collapsing in the open grass, mostly from exhaustion, some with bloody wounds. In the trees below, along the creek, there were scattered pops of musket fire, but the fight was past, whatever had happened to the long column was already done. Lee stared at the great flow of his men, some moving close to him now, men with wild eyes and no muskets, and he felt the horror filling him, the cold stab in his chest, said, in a low voice, "My God... has the army been dissolved? " Mahone said nothing for a moment, the men now moving past them, the ones with enough strength to climb the long hill. Then Mahone shouted at the men, "Turn and fight! Stop... fight for General Lee!"

  A few faces turned up. Lee saw recognition in their eyes, and some began to gather, to slow the panicked stampede.

  Lee looked at Mahone, said, "General, I need you now. We must hold those people back."

  Mahone saluted, turned the horse, said, "My men will still fight, Sir!" He rode away quickly, and Lee moved down the hill, waving his hat, began to call out to the men, "Soldiers! Fight with me!" Men were moving closer, more now standing, finding their breath.

  Lee saw one man holding a battle flag, the man bloody, staggering, and he moved toward him, said, "Here, son, let me...." The man looked at him, dropped to one knee, said nothing, and Lee saw now the face of a child, the sharp eyes, the bright light looking up at him, and the boy released the flag. Lee held it up high, began to wave it, catching the breeze. Now more men fell into line beside him, behind him, and they began to cheer, to yell out his name. He stared below, into the trees, was ready to ride, to move in one hard wave down into the face of the enemy, drive them out, drive them away. The flag was slapping hard around him, catching a sharp gust of wind, the horse staggering to keep straight, and he thought, Yes, we will not be beaten, you cannot take this away from us!

  Behind him there was a new sound, men moving over the crest of the hill, a heavy battle line. It was Mahone's men, and all along the hill came the sound of the rebel yell, high and terrible. Suddenly, someone grabbed the flag, and Lee would not let go, looked at the man with hot anger, How dare you... saw the face of Mahone.

  Mahone still gripped the flag, gave a firm pull, and Lee felt it slip out of his hands. Mahone said, "General, this is my job."

  HE DAY ENDED WITH THE FEDERAL CAVALRY AND INFANTRY held in check, while Gordon and Mahone slowly backed away. By dark Lee had learned the extent of the disaster at Saylor's Creek. The army had lost nearly eight thousand troops, most of them captured. Many of the commanders had made their escape. But word came to Lee that Dick Ewell had fallen into Federal hands, and then, later in the evening, he learned that most of the Richmond Home Guard had been captured. They now ceased to exist as a fighting unit, would be escorted back toward City Point, along with their commander, Custis Lee. Lee's oldest son was now a prisoner of war.

  It was Ewell's mistake that gave the Federals the opportunity to cut through the column of march. The wagon train in front of Gordon had been sent on their northerly detour, but Ewell left no one behind at the intersection to tell Gordon that the wagons were changing direction, no one to tell Gordon not to follow the wagons. Without the crucial instructions, Gordon turned his column, followed the wagon train onto the wrong road.

  When Ewell and Anderson slowed their march, to respond to Sheridan's assaults, they did not tell anyone in front of them, did not send word to Mahone, and so the army simply spread out, the column stretching longer, with gaps opening up, large enough for the Federal troops to cut through. The numbers were bad, the losses staggering, but Lee did not focus on that. He had to look instead at what was left, at the army he could still take into a fight.

  s LONGSTREET'S FIRST TROOPS REACHED FARM VILLE , THE blessed rations were put into the grateful hands of starving men. Lee stayed closer to the rear, moved through the scattered troops who still made their way forward. He did not want to hear numbers, had received the reports from staff officers of what was left of the commands, but would not look at them, folded the small pieces of paper and stuffed them into his coat. Most of the commanders were still close by, somewhere, but for many, for Anderson and Pickett, there were no troops left to command.

  He rode slowly, thought about his son: I will write Mary. I will have to. They will not harm him, he is too valuable. There is some THE LAST FULL MEASURE 459 comfort in that. He knew Rooney was nearby, probably on the flank, riding with his cousin's command. Fitz Lee's cavalry was spread out all over the countryside, rushing to whatever crisis the Federals threw at them, were now gathering together in the same way the infantry was, finding itself, taking the head count, seeing just how much strength they had left.

  Lee had seen Rooney earlier that day, and it had been all orders and tactics, the business of command. He knew Robert Jr. was probably up front, near Longstreet, pulling his guns along under Porter Alexander now, guns that could still serve the army. How odd, he thought, the one farthest from the fight, from the war, would be the one captured. Custis was a brilliant engineer, and Lee thought of that, how much alike they were. Lee himself had spent most of his early military service in the Corps of Engineers5 knew that his oldest son had the talent for it, but even though Custis had gone to the Point, he was not a soldier, did not have the temperament for it. He was quiet, even shy, nothing like the boisterous Rooney. his mind, but Mary would The letter was already taking shape in not take it well, no matter how he explained it. Lee knew Custis was clearly her favorite, and Lee was not sure why, thought, He is... - She something like me. But he has also been there, when I have not has learned to depend on him. He stared into the darkening trees, past the scattered movement of his men, thought, No, she has never depended on me. There has always been the army) even the early days5 the duty always somewhere else, the Carolina coast, St. Louis5 the Mississippi Rier Then Mexico, the cavalry in Texas, and now... some1 1v would thing we never could have known. No one had ever believed it go on like this... four years. w where she was, not It suddenly came to him that he did not know exactly. With Richmond now in Federal hands... he felt the anxious turn in his gut, forced it away, told himself, No, She is safe. They have been so kind, so many good friends, looking out for her. She has always had that, from the time she was a girl. Then it was her father, now... it should be me.

  He moved past an open field, the last of the sunlight reflecting on small pieces of motion, men coming out of the woods, still finding the road. He saw one man stop, looking at him, the man shirtless, with no hat, no musket.

  The man stared, then said, "Praise God. If I ain't seen Jesus... I seen Robert E. Lee."

  The man moved slowly away, and Lee felt himself sag, thought,.

  Abruptly, he reached in his pocket, had kept it away long enough, glanced through the brief reports, while there was enough light to see. He thought, The numbers are never good, never, not in any fight, on any ground. We were always up against greater strength. He already knew how many cavalry Fitz Lee had, had heard a brief report, something near three thousand. The infantry was harder to figure, and they were still finding stragglers, men still
trying to keep up, dazed, starved. The best estimate was around twelve thousand, mostly under Longstreet and Gordon. There were more men than that, but the reports would emphasize effectives, men you could put into a fight. He did not know how many men Grant had, had heard that Ord's people were at Burkeville, and Ord had been above the James, the farthest Federal troops from Petersburg. So if Ord is here, that means... all of them are here. And that means they are slow. The thought raced across his tired mind, surprised him. They have always been slow. A very big dog, trying to catch a very small cat. He suddenly turned the horse, thought, Yes, that is one thing that has not changed. All we need is time. Even Sheridan's cavalry could only hit us in the middle, not the front.

  Gordon had finally been able to pull away from his own fight at Saylor's Creek, would move now up across the Appomattox again, and Mahone would take his men that way as well. Once across the river again... he tried to remember the map, did not have it with him. The river is still a great barrier to Grant's people. Once we are across and can burn the bridges, we will have a very good jump on them. We can make the trains at Farmville, move on to Lynchburg.