House Divided

by Ben Ames Williams

  “Meade will make no mistakes,” Lee commented. “Neither must we. If we do, he will take advantage of them.”

  “The mistake will be made in Washington.” Longstreet was calm with confidence. This was Monday. By tomorrow night the army would be all in hand east of the mountains, with time to select a strong position there. Before the week was gone, the clash would surely come. It could have but one outcome.

  “In Washington. Yes, perhaps,” said Lee. “But if those people ever give a commanding general his head, he may cause us trouble.”

  They decided the details of the coming movement. Pickett must stay here to guard the rear till Imboden arrived. Since Robertson was not yet up, Law’s brigade had better stand at New Guilford as a flank guard. Hood and McLaws would move toward Cashtown tomorrow morning, following Hill’s corps when the road was clear. To be without cavalry was annoying; yet cavalry would not help them cross South Mountain, and horsemen would not be seriously needed until they came out into the plains of Pennsylvania. Surely by that time Stuart would appear.

  Longstreet drew the necessary orders for his divisional commanders. Then, rather than be inactive, he called Goree and rode into Chambersburg, watching the few townspeople on the street, wondering what these stolid Germans thought of their enemy visitors. “Ewell stripped the town,” he remarked. “Even Major Moses has had trouble finding anything worth a requisition.”

  “He unearthed some velveteen that will make good trousers,” Goree told him. “He promised me a piece, at least enough to patch the seat of the pair I’m wearing.”

  They stopped for a moment at the Franklin Hotel, where General Ewell at first had made his headquarters. The proprietor said Ewell only stayed one night, then moved out to the grove by the Mennonite church on the Harrisburg Turnpike. Probably General Ewell found the hotel beds held too many small tenants. Every soldier in the army had become reconciled to sharing his garments and his bedding with insect pests, but at least in your own bed and your own blankets, your bedmates were your familiars.

  They rode idly through the town; but the streets were almost empty, civilians avoided conversation, most buildings were closed. Longstreet took the pike toward where Pickett’s division was in camp along the creek; he went from Pickett back to McLaws and to Hood, informing each one of the situation as it stood, and of tomorrow’s plan. It was always particularly important to make sure Pickett understood his orders. He was a fighter, but that was a matter of heart, not brains; he always needed careful direction. Before they came back to headquarters, the shadows were long.

  Longstreet was roused, sometime in the night, by the rumble of many wagons and guns, coming from the direction of Chambersburg and going out the Gettysburg pike. When soon after breakfast he joined the commanding general, the wagons were still passing; and he asked whose they were.

  “They’re part of Ewell’s,” Lee explained. “I told him unless he found good roads east of the Mountain he could send his wagons this way; so he ordered part of them back through Chambersburg.”

  “Then they’ll be ahead of us today. We’ve only one road over the mountain.”

  “We haven’t far to go,” General Lee reminded him. “If we’re in Cashtown tomorrow night, with the army concentrated, I will be content.”

  Longstreet nodded. There was time enough. Mistakes could be corrected long before Meade’s army was up. When General Lee was ready they mounted, proceeding at a foot pace, overtaking and passing the lumbering wagons and the trundling guns. Colonel Fremantle rode with Major Fairfax, till Longstreet called the Englishman and introduced him to the commanding general and himself dropped back. Riding now behind the other he saw that General Lee, usually completely easy in the saddle, today was tense, as though braced against any painful twist or jolt. A pity! Lee had enough to think about without that damned rheumatism.

  They passed McLaws’s division and Hood’s, waiting in the fields beside the road; and Longstreet directed the divisional commanders to be ready to follow Ewell’s trains, and himself went on. The road crossed easy rolls of ground, dipping into hollows, rising to low heights. Short of Fayetteville another road entered this one from the north, and along the sides of that road men were sprawled at ease. General Lee paused to ask a question, and Longstreet heard the answer. This was Anderson’s division of Hill’s corps, and they too were waiting for the road. General Lee said they had better precede McLaws and Hood; and Longstreet, fuming a little at this new hindrance, sent Sorrel back with that order.

  When they rode up the hill into Fayetteville, the flanks of South Mountain began to converge upon them. It was as though those heights formed a funnel with only one outlet, through which this army must flow. The pass they were soon to climb seemed from this point of view not particularly formidable. The folds of the hills compelled the road to a winding course; but to ascend to the divide appeared to be easy enough.

  Yet the column moved so slowly that at Greenwood, a little cluster of a half a dozen houses only seven or eight miles from their starting point, General Lee called a halt. “We need go no farther today,” he said. “Cashtown is just over the mountain, and Ewell can’t reach there before tomorrow afternoon. We’ll keep the men rested and fresh for the work ahead.”

  The road was still jammed, and when the tents were pitched Longstreet sent Major Currain to investigate the situation. Currain after an hour returned with a discouraging report. Not only were the wagons clogging the pike and the pass, but Johnson’s division of Ewell’s corps, after retracing its way from Carlisle to Shippensburg, was coming south by a country road that skirted the base of the mountain, and they would enter the turnpike a little ahead of this bivouac. So the congestion on the single road over the mountain would for a while grow worse and worse.

  Longstreet reported this to Lee, and the commanding general said regretfully: “Well, Ewell has complicated things for us, but tomorrow will clear up the situation.”

  Longstreet spoke in grumbling anger: “With Anderson coming in by that road behind us, and Johnson ahead, it will be tomorrow afternoon before McLaws and Hood can make a start at all.”

  Lee smiled affectionately. “The old War Horse scents the battle afar off. Never mind, General, your corps will be up in good time.”

  That evening General Hill rode back to report that Heth had pushed Pettigrew’s brigade on from Cashtown toward Gettysburg and encountered enemy cavalry. Longstreet was with Lee when Hill arrived. At Hill’s word, Lee shook his head.

  “I find it hard to credit that!” He turned to Longstreet. “Your scout said those people were no nearer than Emmitsburg.” Longstreet reminded him that Emmitsburg was only a short march away, so Meade might easily have not only cavalry but infantry in Gettysburg; but Lee was still incredulous. “I doubt it,” he repeated. “He only took command Sunday. He would need a day or two, at least, to gather the reins.”

  Longstreet turned to the map on the table, and Hill said: “Heth met no infantry, though one of his staff thought he heard their drums.”

  “No infantry, certainly,” Lee insisted. “Cavalry, perhaps; an outpost, a scouting squadron. But certainly not infantry.”

  After Hill was gone, Longstreet, studying the map, said thoughtfully: “Meade will find a concentration at Gettysburg very tempting, General. He has almost as many roads of approach as he has corps to use them. But even if he concentrates there, he must still come to us at Cashtown.”

  “We will see, we will see.” Lee’s head twitched impatiently. “We will see tomorrow. Tonight there is nothing to be done.”

  The day had been windy with scattered clouds, and next morning the promise of clearing weather was fulfilled. Longstreet, early awake, saw Anderson’s division passing. Once Anderson was gone and Johnson had filed in from that byway ahead, then and not till then McLaws and Hood could move. He rode back to find them and explain this long delay. When he returned to headquarters, Lee was waiting for him, asked pleasantly: “Well, General?”

  “My men are ready whe
never the road is clear.”

  “I’ve sent word to Imboden to come on and relieve Pickett in Chambersburg today,” Lee told him. “Direct Pickett to follow us as soon as Imboden is up. Imboden will guard the passes and gather what supplies he can find. I hear there are some hundreds of barrels of flour at Shippensburg, and I told him to investigate. Headquarters will be at Cashtown tonight. Imboden can park his wagons in the pass between here and Cashtown, after Pickett has moved through.”

  “I told my divisions to cross the pass and camp on the east side of the mountains tonight, no matter how late they had to march to get there.”

  “Exactly. Tell Pickett to expect Imboden today. Then you and I will ride on.”

  It was almost noon before they set out. As they rode, Longstreet saw the other now and then ease himself in the saddle, as though he were in pain; but the fine day, the warming sun would work a cure. They went at a walk; and though because the road was all ups and downs it was hard to be sure, Longstreet thought there was for a while more descent than climb. After a time they found themselves following a sparkling little stream which came singing to meet them, chuckling through the forest, dancing over sun-flecked shallows; and presently below the road they saw the charred ruins of a considerable group of buildings. A few skeins of smoke still rising indicated that they had been recently burned. General Lee pulled up his horse.

  “An iron furnace, apparently,” he commented. “Forge, rolling mill, stables.” He spoke to one of his staff. “Major Taylor, find somebody to tell you how this fire happened. One of those men yonder, perhaps.”

  He pointed to where a little group of civilians stood watching the passing troops; and Major Taylor rode toward them to inquire, and presently returned. “General Early’s men burned the furnace a few days ago,” he reported.

  “I forbade any unnecessary destruction of property.”

  “The furnace belonged to Congressman Thaddeus Stevens,” the Major explained. “You know he is one of the bitterest enemies of the South.” He added appeasingly: “After all, General, there’s been plenty of malicious destruction in Virginia; and you remember the Federals burned Mr. Bell’s furnace in Tennessee.”

  “We need not follow a bad example.” Lee spoke sternly. Taylor fell back, and Lee said to Longstreet: “Yet I think we have done as little damage as those people could expect.”

  “I heard no complaints in Chambersburg,” Longstreet agreed.

  They pushed on, and the road and the dwindling stream still kept company as the gorge narrowed more and more; but the grade was not severe. A mile beyond the furnace, Colonel Fremantle brought his horse beside Longstreet’s.

  “A compliment for you, General,” he said. “The soldiers we’re passing want to know who you are; and when they hear your name they watch you out of sight.”

  Longstreet was pleased. “They’re Ewell’s men,” he explained. “My own men know me.” Then he saw General Lee, a little ahead, pull up his horse, and Longstreet paused at his side.

  “Do you hear that, General?” Lee asked.

  Longstreet listened, shook his head. “My hearing is somewhat impaired.”

  “I hear guns.” Lee made an exasperated gesture. “What does it mean?”

  “Powell Hill must have struck the enemy.”

  “I warned him not to involve us.” Lee fell silent, listening. Just ahead of where they stood, the road crossed the stream; and the men wading through the shallows or leaping across the narrow trickle at a stride, made some noise. Longstreet called to them to halt and be still. Lee said thoughtfully: “If that’s just skirmishing, it’s of no consequence; but if those people are by any possible chance here in front of us, we must fight them. I’ll ride on and see for myself.”

  “I’ll wait to make sure of the situation behind us, let my men understand that they may be needed.”

  “Join me when you can,” Lee directed; and he pushed on. Longstreet summoned Moxley Sorrel.

  “You and Major Currain go back,” he directed. “Tell McLaws and Hood to waste no time. As soon as McLaws is moving, send Major Currain to report to me; and you go on to General Hood and ask him to push his men.”

  Sorrel wheeled his horse, calling Major Currain’s name, and Longstreet went slowly on; but he paused often, anxious for word that his divisions were in motion. Once he pulled up his horse to let some guns pass. They were three-inch rifles, and he spoke to one of the men.

  “That looks like a Yankee gun.” The man looked up, and Longstreet exclaimed in recognition: “Dewain!”

  Brett laughed in quick pleasure. “General! Yes sir, this is one of the guns we captured at Winchester.” And he added: “Here’s something curious. This piece was taken from Company D, First Virginia Artillery. That’s a Western Virginia company; but we’re Company D of the real First Virginia!”

  Longstreet chuckled. “Most of our guns were furnished by the Yankees. If they didn’t supply us, I don’t know how we’d manage. You’re in Ewell’s corps, aren’t you? You stole our road from us back there.”

  “Yes sir, we countermarched to Shippensburg day before yesterday, camped at Scotland last night, came on to Fayetteville this morning. Is Trav with you?”

  “I sent him back with orders. He’ll be up presently.”

  Brett went on to overtake his guns, and Longstreet more slowly followed him. He judged the summit was not far ahead. Once over the divide, wagons and guns would make quick time. The ascent of the pass from this side was surprisingly easy. He wondered whether the road dropped more steeply beyond.

  It was an hour after General Lee left him—though he had come no more than a mile or so—before Longstreet heard the rumble of those distant guns. Fairfax and Moses had heard them long before, and the others of the staff, and had told him so; but now the distant sound made him impatient. He went on more rapidly, finding the last pitch steeper than the approach had been, and so came to the summit. He paused there, looking down and out across the level Pennsylvania farm lands, spread below him like the sea and faintly tinted blue. Battle sounds were now clear even to his ears; but he could see no smoke rising, nor any sign to mark the scene of the distant conflict. Probably it was hidden behind that spur of the mountain here near at hand which closed his view.

  He saw an ambulance climbing the steep road that led up to where he stood. It must be coming from the battle yonder. The marching men descending toward Cashtown swerved to let the ambulance pass; and when the driver at the summit pulled up to breathe his horses, Longstreet moved nearer to question the hurt men.

  They were of Heth’s division, Hill’s corps; and one of them, grinning with the pain of a shattered foot, explained what had happened.

  “The General said we’d go to Gettysburg to get ourselves some shoes,” he told Longstreet. “But the Yankees got there first.” He looked at his bloody foot. “A hell of a lot of good a pair of shoes will do me now!”

  “Was the enemy in force?”

  “It felt like it to me.” The man added proudly: “But we’re giving them what-for!”

  Longstreet turned away, and his jaw set. This was Powell Hill, forgetting his orders, plunging prematurely into battle. At such an hour as this, there should be no mistakes to complicate Lee’s task! Hill’s orders had been absolute: he must not precipitate an engagement. But he had done sol And Ewell, sliding his damned trains into the road back there, had clogged the turnpike for God knows how long! This army was out of hand. Lee no longer had it in control. The army commanded him, not he the army; not now!

  Longstreet sat his restless horse, waiting for word from the rear, listening to the distant guns; and up the road, against the flow of marching men and rumbling wagons, came an increasing stream of wounded. Hill had found hard contention, that was clear. Then Currain appeared, on that great black stallion of his, breasting the last pitch at a smart trot, and Longstreet swung to meet him.

  Trav reported that McLaws was on the road. “The turnpike was not clear for him till four o’clock. We told him to
keep well closed up.”

  That was good as far as it went, but in what was to come every man would be needed. Law, back at New Guilford, had better come on. Longstreet scrawled a note. “Take this to General Law,” he directed. “I’ll go on, join General Lee.” Then, remembering: “No, I’ll have Fairfax take that dispatch. Your brother-in-law, Mr. Dewain, is not far ahead of us. You’ll want a word with him. You come with me.”

  The descent was steep and tortuous, the road winding dizzily downward; and they had to hold their horses hard against a fall. When they overtook Brett, Trav stopped only for a moment. As he came up with Longstreet again, someone called: “Howdy, Major Currain.” Longstreet saw Trav swing down from his horse to greet a man with a healed stump where his left hand should have been, but whose right arm now was wrapped in a soiled and bloody rag. Trav gripped the man’s good shoulder, spoke to him warmly; and Longstreet asked: “Who’s this, Major?”

  “Bob Grimm, General,” Trav explained. “An old neighbor of mine in Martinston. He lost one hand at Williamsburg, but he volunteered again.”

  “I could shoot as straight with one hand as with two,” Grimm said calmly. “But I dunno as I’d be much good with none at all.” Longstreet looked at the wounded arm. The bones were certainly broken; the arm would have to go. “We hate to lose men like you, Grimm. What command?”

  “Eleventh North Carolina, sir. Pettigrew’s brigade, Heth’s division.”

  “You found the bluebellies?”

  “Yes sir. Our brigade went to Gettysburg yesterday, but the Yanks were there, so we drew back four-five miles and camped; but today the whole division went on. The Yanks were on some high ground this side of town. We piled into ’em, but they gave us some trouble, sir. Colonel Leventhorpe was hurt, and I think they nabbed him; and I saw Major Ross killed.”

  Longstreet’s teeth gritted. Damn Hill and his headlong folly! Trav asked: “Any Martinston men with you, Bob?”