Longstreet heard a step and lowered his glasses and saw General Lee approaching. He rose, and as they met, Lee said firmly: “General, if Ewell meant to attack, Major Venable would have come to tell us; so presumably General Ewell sees no good prospect. We must strike them from this side.” Before Longstreet could protest, he added: “I will show you the position. We can see better if we ride a little to the south.”
He turned his horse and Longstreet followed, gnawing at his mustache. When they mounted, so did the others. They rode southward through an orchard, the ground descending a little and then rising to another orchard which projected from the border of the woods almost exactly west of the cemetery. Lee paused and Longstreet drew up beside him and they dismounted.
Lee pointed south across the cultivated fields. “See down there where the Emmitsburg road crosses that knoll?” Longstreet’s eye turned that way, and Lee explained: “I mean that ground twenty or thirty feet higher than we are here. Look between the two houses and beyond.” There was a house in an orchard a quarter-mile southeast, and another a little west of south, twice or thrice as far away. They framed between them fields and meadows that sloped gently upward to where on the higher ground fences marked the road. “If we had some guns on that knoll we could hurt those people over there,” Lee said. “You had better prepare to seize it.”
Longstreet’s cheeks were stiff with angry blood. “You wish to attack?”
“Yes. If we don’t hit them, they will hit us.” So Hood was right! “Their left is anchored on that rise, in the trees around the house you can just see past the right side of the nearer orchard. Move your men to the right till you’re beyond their flank; then throw your right across the road and strike up the road toward the town. If you give us that knoll to place our guns, we can hammer them from both sides; you from there and General Ewell from the town. We’ll crack them like a nut!”
Longstreet held his voice steady. “If you win a victory here, sir, what fruits will you gather?”
Lee smiled affectionately. “Let’s get the victory first, my old War Horse! Once we shake the tree, the fruits will fall into our lap.”
Longstreet tried to speak; but he was choking at once with the certainty that to attack was wrong and with humiliation. General Lee knew his opinion, knew he was opposed to an assault. To be even thus gently overruled had not happened to him before. The confidence in him which Lee had always shown made this rebuff the more painful.
But he reminded himself that General Lee had had trying days. To constant pain and the responsibilities of command had been added the burden of the errors of others. But for Stuart’s absence, Lee would have known Meade’s movements; but for Hill, there would have been no battle yesterday; but for Ewell’s sluggishness last night, Meade would be today in full retreat from that natural redoubt yonder. Stuart, Hill, and Ewell had among them thrown the army into this sorry position. No wonder General Lee wore less than his usual serenity, saw less clearly than usual.
So Longstreet’s resentment gave way to affectionate understanding; but his anger was to rise to full flood again. For a moment after General Lee had explained his desires, Longstreet did not speak; and Lee, with that characteristic nervous sidewise twitch of his head which was always a mark of irritation, turned toward where the other officers were gathered. Longstreet saw him, with a map spread open in his hands, give some direction to McLaws. That was a new humiliation! Any orders for McLaws should be given through the commander of the First Corps. Longstreet strode toward them.
“Place your divisions here, General,” Lee was saying to McLaws, drawing a line with his finger across the map. “Can you do it without being seen by the enemy?”
The line Lee had drawn crossed the Emmitsburg road at the spot where the commanding general himself had said the enemy flank was anchored; but his own orders to Longstreet had been to move beyond that flank before crossing the road. So not only was General Lee wrong to give direct orders to McLaws; his tactics were mistaken.
“I can take a few skirmishers and reconnoiter,” McLaws suggested; but Longstreet interrupted.
“General McLaws, I do not wish you to leave your division.” With a blunt forefinger he drew a line on the map that General Lee still held, a line parallel with the road. “And your division should be here!” His plan was clear in his own mind; he would throw Hood across the road beyond McLaws, and place McLaws in position to strike the Yankees in front as Hood rolled up their flank.
Lee said quietly: “I wish the division placed across the road, not along it, General Longstreet. I wish you to advance up the Emmitsburg road, toward the cemetery.”
There was an instant’s silence, while Longstreet held his temper hard in check. Surely General Lee could trust him with the tactical handling of his men! For Lee to give a direct order to McLaws was an affront, and Longstreet’s anger bade him resign on the spot and instantly; but loyal second thought reminded him that this was out of the question. There was no man Lee could put in his place; he could not desert his post in the face of the enemy.
And this was even more profoundly true if General Lee were today so far from being himself that he could thus confuse his own intent. Certainly too this was no time for disputing and discussion. Longstreet called Moxley Sorrel. “Send for Colonel Alexander,” he directed. As Sorrel hurried away, Longstreet’s pulses quieted. An officer rode up to General Lee with some report; and Lee explained to Longstreet: “This is Captain Johnston, General. He has been looking to our right.” And to the officer: “What did you find, Captain?”
“We rode over to that low wooded hill yonder,” the Captain said, and pointed. “The farmers call it Little Round Top, and the higher hill south of it is Round Top. The lower hill is all big boulders, no place for a horse unless he wants a broken leg; so we turned south and circled back.”
“Did you encounter the enemy?”
“No, sir, no sign of them. We saw three or four troopers at a distance, but they didn’t see us.”
“Are there roads over those rocky heights?”
“No sir. They’re impassable.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Lee turned to Longstreet. “General, those hills will guard your right as you advance up the road. Guide your left by the road.”
As he spoke, Colonel Alexander rode up and dismounted, saluting them. Longstreet asked: “Where are your guns, Colonel?”
“A mile from here, beside the stream called Willoughby Run, down behind this ridge.”
“Bring them up,” Longstreet directed. “General Lee wishes us to throw our right beyond the enemy’s flank, to wheel and attack up the Emmitsburg road and seize that high ground yonder.” He pointed out to Colonel Alexander the vantage Lee had indicated. “Have your guns ready to go into action, but keep them behind the woods where they can’t be seen by enemy signal stations on those wooded hills. As soon as we seize the knoll, throw your guns forward to that position. Let me know when you are ready, if you please.”
When Alexander was gone, Lee said approvingly: “That was well done, General! Now I must ride over and see General Ewell.” He raised his hat in friendly salutation, and departed.
When the other was gone, Longstreet saw McLaws and Hood watching him, and he knew what they were thinking, and knew they understood what he must have felt a little while ago. Because it was McLaws who had been the innocent instrument of his humiliation, Longstreet spoke harshly. “Well, General McLaws, you have your orders!”
“Very well, sir.” McLaws mounted and rode away along the border of the wood. Longstreet sat down again; and Hood asked, the question suggesting his surprise at this inaction:
“Do we move at once, General?”
“Not yet. I don’t want to attack without Pickett. I never like to go into battle with one boot off.” Longstreet added: “General Lee is a little nervous this morning.”
He regretted that word as soon as it was spoken. What he had said was true, but there were times when the truth should not be uttered. Hood knew
as well as he that to try to throw Meade out of that position over there would cost heavily and profit little. When he himself spoke to Colonel Alexander a moment ago, he had seen the surprise in the artilleryman’s eyes. Alexander had a quick eye for terrain; he knew that such an attack must be expensive and of doubtful issue. These two were as sure as he that Lee was wrong.
Nevertheless he should not have said what he did, and he was glad Hood made no reply. Hood was like Major Currain; he knew how to hold his tongue. He had come on to Virginia with his Texans, a young man just turned thirty, a year ago last fall; and during that first winter of the war he welded his regiment and then his brigade into a fine fighting unit.
Hood could hold his tongue, and he could get fine work out of his men; and Pickett, too, for all his perfumed ringlets and his lovesick sighing for that lady down below Petersburg, could be relied upon. Longstreet had known Pickett for twenty years: at West Point, in Texas and New Mexico, in old Mexico, and now in this army. A little slow of understanding, so that it was always safer to give him a written than a spoken order, nevertheless he was one whom no battle task would ever daunt. That he was not only valorous but firm he had proved at San Juan when the British threatened to land forces there. He retorted that if a landing were attempted he would open fire, and the British abandoned their design. Pickett might neglect routine military duties to make his devotions to the lady of his choice; but when battle offered he was of a direct and single mind. Thus far no great military opportunity had been afforded him, but when it came he would seize it.
In his mood just now Longstreet thought that of his divisional commanders McLaws was the least effective, if for no other reason than that his health was precarious. But as his resentment of the incident of a few minutes ago began to pass, Longstreet gave McLaws more credit. Certainly the other was a gentle and a courteous man, completely unselfish in his relationship with his brother officers. Yes, and he had a fine self-possession on the field. His highest achievement thus far had been the seizure of Maryland Heights and the emplacement of cannon there, when he shared with General Jackson the success won at Harper’s Ferry. His men were always well in hand. On that terrible march into Maryland last year, though for two days they had no water to drink, none straggled. At Sharpsburg McLaws did well; at Marye’s Hill above Fredericksburg, his was the close direction of the defense which worked among the enemy such slaughter. Longstreet, calmer now, nodded contentedly. With three such men to handle the divisions, the First Corps could be relied upon.
The minutes drifted by. Colonel Alexander came to report that he had found a way to bring his guns into position unobserved by the enemy. “One of my men knows this ground, General,” he said. “Lieutenant Wentz. He lived as a boy in a house down there on the other side of the Emmitsburg road.” He pointed toward the knoll a mile or more to the southward, which they meant to seize. “You can just see the roof. There’s a peach orchard all around the house. The Lieutenant’s parents still live there, but he’s lived in Virginia for years. You might care to question him. He’s here with me.”
Longstreet welcomed the opportunity. If he were to direct this attack, he should appraise at close range the tactical features of the ground: the woods, whether they were open or thickets; the fences, rail or stone; the farm houses, the swales, the marshy runs, the ravines that might give shelter to attacking troops or serve as obstacles to an advance. But he did not wish to leave this spot; for Lee would presently return, and they could then inspect the ground together. In the meantime, Colonel Alexander’s man might contribute useful information. He said agreeably to the young Lieutenant: “Well, sir, Colonel Alexander tells me this was your boyhood home.”
“Yes sir.” Wentz, though he was no boy but a man of thirty or so, was flushed and excited, and Longstreet led him into talk that would put him at his ease.
“But you preferred Virginia?”
“Why, I was apprenticed to Mr. Ziegler in Gettysburg, making carriages,” the Lieutenant explained. “But about ten years ago I decided to set up for myself and I moved to Martinsburg.”
“And prospered, I’m sure,” Longstreet smiled. “From carriage making to service in the artillery was a natural step. Our gun carriages are just a little stouter than your sort, that’s all.”
“Yes sir,” Wentz assented. “I was in the Martinsburg Blues, and when the war began most of us went into the army.”
Longstreet nodded and came to questions. He pointed across the rolling fields. “How deep is the valley behind that rise over there?”
“Fairly deep, sir. The ground breaks off pretty sharply toward Rock Creek. Folks around here call that Cemetery Ridge, over there. That’s Evergreen Cemetery you see. It’s not much of a ridge except at the cemetery, and when it gets to the Round Tops.”
“You mean those rocky hills?”
“Yes sir. And this along here is Seminary Ridge, named after the seminary up by the Chambersburg road; but they call it Warfield Ridge when you get down beyond the run by Mr. Warfield’s farm.”
“Our maps show several roads leading up from the south.”
“Yes sir. There’s the Baltimore pike beyond the ridge, and the road from Taneytown comes up east of the Round Tops and along the ridge. You can see the Yankees placing guns over there along the Taneytown road. This is the Emmitsburg road right in front of us.”
“Then there may be enemy troops we can’t see, down behind that ridge opposite us?”
“Yes sir.” Longstreet thought Meade would know how to make the most of that natural screen, shifting his troops to any threatened point unseen and secure. Lieutenant Wentz added: “I talked with Mr. Warfield this morning, General. His house is down here on a lane this side of the Emmitsburg road, not far from my father’s. I wanted to ask him to tell my family to move out. He says the Yankee line hooks around through the cemetery and over Culp’s Hill. You can see the top of Culp’s Hill there. So their right flank is only about half a mile back from the ridge opposite you here.”
Longstreet’s eyes swung to the right. “Is that your father’s house I can see?”
“No sir, that’s Mr. Sherfy’s. Father’s house is almost behind Mr. Sherfy’s from here.” Whatever embarrassment had at first curbed the Lieutenant’s tongue, he was full of talk now. “Then as you come up the road toward town there’s Mr. Smith’s house, and Mr. Klingel’s and Mr. Rogers’s. You can see them. Then the Codori place. You can’t see it from here. It’s behind the Bliss house and the orchard, and down behind the knoll. Codori’s is the last house till you get almost to the cemetery.”
Longstreet nodded dismissal, and the Lieutenant and Colonel Alexander moved away. Longstreet let his eyes drift across these fields, considering the tactical features. Some of the meadows had not been mowed, and he thought it was a pretty careless farmer who would let his hay stand this long; all the goodness was dried out of it by now. The wheat, where it was not yet reaped, and the tall meadow grasses gave good cover for skirmishers and sharpshooters between the lines.
Toward eleven o’clock, Lee came riding through the orchard; and Longstreet rose to meet him. “Ah, General,” Lee exclaimed, with a little angry twitch of his head. “Still here? Are your men deployed?”
“The guns are up,” Longstreet told him. “And McLaws is ready to march and so is Hood; but Pickett is not here.”
Lee brushed his beard with his hand. “Ewell is firmly opposed to attack on his front,” he said. “But he will make a demonstration when you attack. Anderson will extend General Hill’s front here toward the right. Let McLaws take position beyond Anderson, Hood on McLaws’s right. They must sweep up the road and roll up the enemy flank.” He pointed. “Give me that high ground along the road there, General.” His tone was kindly, but it was insistent, too. “It is time to move.”
Longstreet was himself so sure that a maneuver to the right would draw Meade to battle on their own terms that he had hoped till this moment for a change of plan; but now Lee’s orders permitted no question. The
attack would commit them; it held great risk and no compensating prospect of great gain. But it must be made.
Well, if it were to be made, every man would be needed. “Law will surely be up within the hour, General,” he suggested.
“I think you had better go to work with the force in hand.”
“We will need Law,” Longstreet urged. “We will need every man.”
Lee spoke in reluctant consent. “Very well, your attack can wait on Law; but let McLaws and Hood move into place. Captain Johnston. has found a way to bring your divisions into position without being seen by those people over there. I will let him guide McLaws, and Hood can follow.”
Without waiting for a reply, Lee rode toward the right; and Longstreet mounted, but his jaw set in sullen anger. So Captain Johnston was to direct McLaws’s division! Very well, he would ride with Hood! He knew himself to be as unreasonable as a sulking small boy; yet damn it, Lee was wrong! This attack was wrong! If Lee were bent on it, he himself would obey orders; but Lee need expect no more.
When he emerged from the orchard on the slopes where Hood’s men were waiting, a messenger reported that Law was here. Captain Johnston had reached McLaws, for that division was already moving into the road that led toward Fairfield and Hagerstown. The road angled away from the prospective battlefield; but if General Lee wished Johnston to take them that way, that was Lee’s affair. Longstreet said to Hood: “Follow McLaws, General.” Hood turned to give the necessary orders, and Longstreet sat his horse, hearing behind him the murmuring voices of the men of his staff. The slopes below were alive with movement. There were wagons in park, and ambulances, and guns held in reserve, and hospital tents; and through this orderly disorder the two divisions of the First Corps marched southward to enter the road and oblique away southwesterly. Thousands of men filed across the already trampled meadows in two columns that extended at first halfway to the Chambersburg pike, that grew shorter as they came to the road and entered it. McLaws’s division counted say seven thousand men, Hood’s a few more; so there were fourteen or fifteen thousand men in motion here under Longstreet’s eye.
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