House Divided

by Ben Ames Williams

  “The Howitzers were up near the Seminary, had only two or three casualties. A shell burst near them and frightened Brett’s horse, and it ran away with all his belongings. He chased it, but it galloped right through our battle down below the road here, and he had to let it go.” He came near Longstreet, said in an interested tone: “General, here’s a curious thing. I passed where they were sorting over the muskets picked up on the battlefield, seeing how many of them could be used; and I talked with the lieutenant in charge. They had seventeen hundred and sixty-three muskets there, and they’d picked out four hundred and twelve——”

  Longstreet made an amused sound. “Figures will be the death of you, Currain.” The Major was a simple man, always easily predictable except when sudden storming lust for action swept him out of himself.

  “Yes sir; but here’s the strange thing, General. Three hundred and four of those muskets were still loaded, and the lieutenant said at least half of them had more than one charge, sometimes four or five. One had nine charges that they drew and counted, and another was loaded right to the muzzle, solidly. I don’t see how that could happen, sir.”

  “Easily enough,” Longstreet assured him. “Men in battle get excited.” His tone was jocular. “I seem to remember an occasion when you were a little stirred up yourself; though to good purpose, to be sure. What happens is that excited men forget to cap the nipples. They snap their pieces and ram home another load without noticing that there was no shot.” He himself was usually completely calm in battle, or thought he was; but then he never carried a weapon, had not done so since his days as a young officer. “I remember an affair in Mexico when I kept snapping my pistol through several hours of action and never thought to load it till next day. Young soldiers lose their heads.” He rose. “There, I see a bite of supper ready.”

  Over their supper, talk drifted wearily. The night seemed cool after the blistering day, but it was still hot enough so that no tents were needed, nor blankets. Longstreet sent Currain to ask the farmer near whose house they were preparing to bivouac whether they could take a few armfuls of hay from his barn, and Trav returned with this permission. “Mr. Warfield says as long as you don’t sleep in the barn and like as not set fire to it, he won’t complain.” An orderly carried an armful of hay into the orchard across the road from the cooking fire, and Longstreet told Currain to ask Dr. Cullen about General Hood, and so lay down, half-listening to the talk back by the fire. The younger men of the staff discussed the day’s work, their voices now argumentative and eager, now hushed with sorrow for friends hurt or dead. None of them were satisfied with what had been accomplished; and Longstreet understood their discontent. They had done what Lee asked of them; but the First Corps was used to doing more than was asked. Colonel Manning blamed inadequate reconnaissance.

  “General Pendleton said he’d surveyed the ground, but if he did, either it was from a long way off or else he had poor eyes. I don’t believe he came within a half a mile of the road. The Yankee prisoners say they had pickets out last night almost to Fairfield, and General Wilcox found Yankee outposts in the woods north of us here when he moved down this way today. If General Pendleton came this far, he would have run into them.”

  Fairfax said: “Speaking of General Wilcox, he’s in a damned bad humor tonight! He got right into the Yankee lines over there on the ridge, and sent for help; and his messenger found General Anderson in a ravine back in the woods, sprawling on the ground with all his staff around him as calm as if there wasn’t a Yankee within fifty miles!” He laughed. “I suppose they kept in the shade for fear they’d get a touch of sun.”

  “Did General Anderson send help?” Manning asked.

  “No. General Wilcox repulsed three attacks by Yankee reinforcements and then gave up, pulled his men back. He says with support he could have broken the Yankee front; but no support came, and they were hitting him from three sides.”

  Longstreet would remember that against Anderson; yet even if Anderson failed, Hill—without waiting to be asked—should have sent fresh brigades to strengthen Wilcox. But it was too late now to correct mistakes. The day was done; afterthought never won a battle.

  The voices died, the men drifted into sleep. Longstreet, his head pillowed on his folded hat laid atop his spyglasses, felt in his ear the hard pound of his heart not yet slowed to normal beat from the swift tattoo of battle rhythm. His blood was still too hot for sleep. Not till he heard Colonel Alexander begin to put his guns into position for tomorrow’s work did he drowse a little, and he woke at first light and sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  Tom Goree, seeing him awake, reported that Hood would probably lose an arm, but should recover. Well, Hood fought with his head and with his dauntless heart; not with his arms. When breakfast fires were lighted, Longstreet got to his feet, stiff with dawn chill; but a hot drink would set him right again. Sorrel brought the reports of Law’s scouts. There were enemy forces facing Law and massed behind the Round Tops; but south of those rocky hills the way to Meade’s rear was still open and of easy access. If Pickett and his fresh men were sent around Meade’s flank to hit the enemy trains behind the Round Tops, would not Meade’s whole line be dislocated? Dawn melted into day and Alexander came to report his guns in position, with the Washington Artillery to add to their weight of fire.

  “I had twenty of them in a bad spot,” he confessed. “I placed them after dark, but this morning I saw they would be under enfilade from the cemetery hill above the town. Luckily the Yankees couldn’t see them in the morning mist, and they’re better placed now.”

  “Get some breakfast while you can,” Longstreet directed. “As soon as Pickett is ready, we’ll go to work.”

  Guns opened off north of the town, and he heard heavy musket fire; so Ewell was already engaged. Too bad Ewell had not been as energetic yesterday. While he ate, Longstreet reflected on yesterday’s battle. The Yankees, give them credit, had done disquietingly well. With their line broken and their center pierced, they had recoiled, to be sure; but down in that wheat field below the peach orchard they had fought as tenaciously as cats. He remembered General Hill’s remark day before yesterday, that the Yankees had never fought as hard as they did that day. This might be because they were defending their own territory, for every dog is a hero in his own yard.

  But whatever the cause, their new prowess was all the more reason for seeking to defeat them by wit rather than weight, by maneuvre rather than assault. Perhaps General Lee would sanction that move to the right which Pickett’s coming made so feasible.

  As Longstreet finished breakfast, the commanding general with three or four of his staff and General Hill rode toward them through the orchard. Longstreet rose, and with a word of friendly greeting, Lee said: “Well, General, from the position you won yesterday we can hurt those people today.”

  Longstreet repeated the report brought by General Law’s scouts. “They found good opportunity to send Pickett around Meade’s flank,” he suggested, and pointed to the rocky heights that marked the southern end of the enemy line.

  Lee shook his head; but before he could speak, General Pendleton rode up from the peach orchard. “I can see no room for improvement in the gun positions, sir,” he reported. Lee turned to scan the field. From the crossroads at the orchard the road ascended slightly to that knoll, yesterday their objective, which was now in Confederate hands. The batteries there, withdrawn a little west of the road to avoid an enfilade, were not much more than a mile from the cemetery on the hill above the town.

  Lee said to Pendleton: “Then you will want to arrange the Third Corps artillery.” Pendleton rode away, and Lee turned back to Longstreet. “General, if you advance your corps to that low point of the ridge over there, you will break their center.”

  Longstreet waited to speak calmly. “To go there, sir, we must accept the fire of the enemy massed here on our front. As we advance, they will be on our flank and rear. My divisions are weaker by four or five thousand bayonets than they were yesterday morn
ing; and if we move as you direct, Meade’s left will pour down and crush us.”

  Lee through his glasses studied the enemy position. “Is his left strongly held?”

  “We took prisoners from twenty-five brigades in the action yesterday. There are at least a dozen brigades in front of us this morning.” And since Lee did not immediately comment, Longstreet said strongly: “General Law can hold them on our right, and General McLaws can hold them here; but if Law and McLaws attack as you direct, Meade’s left will be let loose behind us.”

  Lee yielded the point. “We cannot strip our right as long as their left is strongly held. That is true.” He urged in firm insistence: “Yet their center is weak. We will break it. If McLaws’s and Hood’s divisions must stay here, you may have some brigades from the Third Corps; and Pickett’s men are fresh.” He turned to include General Hill in his instructions, pointing across the road northeastward. “That spot where the trees are thinnest, that little clump of trees to the right of the cemetery hill, that is the spot to hit. Place your men, but keep them hidden behind the trees on our ridge here till they move. Let Heth’s division form on Pickett’s left, with two of Pender’s in close support. Pickett will have farther to go than they, so they must time themselves to hit those people all together.”

  His tone was positive, and General Hill at once departed to make these arrangements; but Longstreet said flatly:

  “General, you give me at best fifteen thousand men. I don’t believe any fifteen thousand men who ever carried a musket can march half a mile through converging artillery fire from front and flanks, and through the musketry of the defenders, up to the saddle of that ridge.”

  “Wright took his brigade there yesterday,” Lee insisted. “If one brigade can do it, fifteen thousand men can certainly do it.”

  “Ranse Wright can take his men anywhere men can go,” Longstreet conceded. “But he was driving troops already broken. Also, since he was not supported, he had to withdraw.” Bitterness over that failure to support his battle yesterday was in his tones. “But today the enemy line is re-established, with guns placed to enfilade an attack. The condition has changed, to our disadvantage.”

  Other officers had drawn near, listening; and Colonel Long of Lee’s staff spoke to Longstreet. “General, the guns on the hill on your right front can be silenced.”

  Lee added: “And I’ll give you Anderson’s division if you need it, General.”

  Longstreet’s pride responded to the implicit compliment; for although the attack would be delivered by a force made up of only three of his brigades and nine or ten of Hill’s, he was to command. Nevertheless he said honestly: “I do not believe it can be done, sir.”

  Lee’s head twitched in a rising irritation; but his tone was mild. “Anything is possible to this army, General! The enemy is there, and I am going to strike him.”

  Longstreet did not reply; there was no more to be said. He saw Pickett a few paces off, waiting for orders, and at his nod Pickett joined them. Longstreet explained what was to be done. He pointed out the tactical features of the field, turned to ask General Lee: “What point, exactly, do you wish to strike?” Lee indicated again that clump of trees a little south of the cemetery, and Longstreet said to Pickett: “I suggest you form your men behind the ridge, behind the guns. Heth’s division will be on your left.” He asked Lee: “Will Heth command his men?” General Heth had taken a head wound in the battle he precipitated two days ago, and which had embroiled them all.

  “No, General Pettigrew will handle Heth’s division.”

  Well, Pettigrew was as good a man as Heth. Except for the inevitable confusion that must result from the shift of command, the division would do as well under one leader as the other. Longstreet continued his instructions to Pickett. “And two brigades of Pender’s division will support Pettigrew. How long will you need to put your men in position?”

  “They will be ready at ten o’clock.”

  General Lee had moved aside to listen to the sounds of Ewell’s fight, two miles northeast. Longstreet called Colonel Alexander. “You must rearrange your guns, Colonel,” he directed. “Draw back the batteries on the left. You will want to deliver converging fire on the ridge just south of the cemetery. Make sure your guns do not blanket each other.”

  Alexander and Pickett rode away together. As Longstreet rejoined Lee, the commanding general received a salute from General Wofford and said courteously:

  “Well, sir, you made a good battle yesterday.”

  Wofford flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, General. We came close to the crest of the ridge.”

  “Do you think you can do it again today?”

  The other spoke doubtfully. “My advance yesterday was a pursuit; but the ground over there is difficult, and they have had all night to make themselves secure.”

  Longstreet saw General Lee’s impatience at this new remonstrance. Wofford, feeling himself dismissed, rode away; and Lee spoke to Longstreet. “I’ve sent word to Ewell that you will be ready at ten; but I fear his battle will have worn itself out before that.”

  “Pickett will be ready at ten,” Longstreet corrected. “But we must wait for the guns to break a way for us. Colonel Long is of opinion we can silence the enemy batteries on the hill over there. I hope he is right. I presume the Third Corps artillery will smother the guns in the cemetery.”

  “General Pendleton will see to that,” Lee assured him. “Shall we ride along your front?”

  So Longstreet mounted, and as they rode, Lee spoke of the failure of Ewell’s battle the day before. General Johnston’s division and General Early had made a gallant and partially successful assault; but Early, finding his right in the air, had to retire.

  “General Rodes was to have supported Early,” Lee explained, “but he was not prepared in time.”

  “What was General Hill doing all afternoon?”

  “He left Anderson’s division to help you. The others were inactive.”

  Longstreet bit back a sardonic word. Inactive? Yes, Hill was inactive yesterday, and Ewell too! Unless they did their part today, Pickett’s men would be slaughtered. But surely they would do their part today; General Lee would see to that. True, he had sent forward no support when support was needed yesterday; but perhaps from his position Lee had been unable to follow the action on the right. Today the assault on the Yankee center would be directly under his eye; he would be able to watch every move, to send forward supporting columns at the proper time.

  They rode at first to the right, and General Lee stopped to speak to McLaws; but Longstreet went on to tell General Law the day’s plan. “When Pickett moves, you must make a hard push to pin the enemy in front of you,” he directed. “Keep them off Pickett’s flank.”

  Law said soberly: “General, for me to send my men at them is madness. The enemy is above us, behind two lines of breastworks. His upper line can fire over the lower at our assaulting troops. Also they’ve massed infantry on our right rear, so I’ve had to refuse my right a little. If we advance they will encircle our flank.”

  Longstreet was about to remind Law that to magnify difficulties was not the road to success; but he was himself sure this day’s work offered no promise, so Law could not be blamed. “Make what pressure you can,” he insisted. “But keep your right secure.” Meade must not be permitted to find any open road around Law to this army’s trains. “When Pickett advances, you and McLaws must somehow keep them off his flank.” Law’s prominent eyes were more prominent than usual today, but most men of nervous temperament were a little wide-eyed in the hour before battle. Longstreet said hearteningly: “We will feel no anxiety with you here, General.”

  He rejoined General Lee, but he did not repeat what Law had told him. Since Lee meant to attack, to raise new objections would be useless. They returned past the farm buildings near which he had spent the night and continued northward. Alexander had rearranged his batteries to extend for about three-quarters of a mile in an irregular line from the peach orchard
down through lower ground and past a house and along the front of another orchard and up to the corner of a large mass of woodland. Longstreet thought those guns could concentrate their fire on the spot Lee wished to strike.

  He and General Lee paused behind the left-hand batteries, and Longstreet studied the terrain across which the assault must be delivered. Till they moved, Pickett’s men could wait here in the woods behind the guns. To the right, in a shallow ravine, a little brook rose to trickle back through the trees and go on to the west. The regiments could form in that sheltered swale; but to reach the road they would have to pass through the line of batteries and across an open field. The ground between here and the road was not sufficiently undulating to hide them from observation, nor to protect them from artillery fire; but just this side of the road there was a knoll, and beyond it Longstreet saw the roof and the upper part of a house and barn. When the men got that far, the knoll and the house and the barn would give them temporary shelter.

  But to reach the house they must march half a mile through intense and concentrated fire; and to reach the house was nothing. They must go on another two or three hundred yards, up gently rising ground and with no least protection, before they came to grips with the enemy.

  So these green and gently rolling fields would presently be littered with dead men, men of his corps, men who would have died in a futile and a hopeless undertaking. He turned away, unwilling to look longer upon those meadows where today so many men must die.

  General Lee turned with him and they rode side by side, not speaking. Longstreet saw that the other was white with weariness; and he felt a sudden tenderness, and a sympathetic comprehension. In these two days the commanding general had lost a fourth of his infantry, and with nothing gained. From the day this army crossed the Potomac, one thing and then another had gone wrong: Stuart had left Lee blind, Hill threw him into battle, Ewell halted at the moment when victory was in his hands. There must be in General Lee today a welling sorrow which made cool judgment impossible. Pride too was at stake; pride in his own victorious career, pride in his army. That he might fail to crush those people whose armies he had so often shattered must be for Lee unthinkable; even to maneuver must seem to the commanding general a confession of inadequacy. There was the enemy, waiting to be struck. Well, he would strike them!