‘You two men want to get into the Yankee lines, right?’
‘That’s right,’ said Gilbert.
‘Okay, so you put me in the wagon, and we’ll go through the lines under a white flag.’
The two Rebel soldiers looked at each other and their eyes widened. This will never work, thought Gilbert. It had taken Roberto a few moments longer to follow what the Confederate was saying, but then the Italian seemed to finish processing the unfamiliar accent and he understood.
‘Si, si,’ he said excitedly. ’is a plan. Is a plan.’
He tugged Gilbert’s sleeve.
‘Come on, boss. Let’s go.’
I’m going to die, Gilbert thought.
‘You heard the lieutenant,’ said one of the Rebels, pushing Gilbert with the barrel of his musket.
The four of them lifted the lieutenant as gently as they could. Even so he gasped and winced as they carried him to the wagon and placed him inside. Then the equipment and supplies were loaded back in around him. A white flag was rigged up from a branch that one of the rebels broke off a tree and a white shirt from Roberto’s travel bag. Gilbert and Roberto remounted the wagon. Roberto took the reins while Gilbert held the flag.
‘See up there,’ said one of the Rebels, pointing up the road through the gray sheets of rain. The pike rose gently and right at the crest there seemed to be what looked like a roadblock.
‘That’s our line,’ he said. ‘It comes out and crosses the road, curves around the shoulder of that ridge for a little and then goes back across the road again. You’re gonna have to go round that. I’m gonna send a man up there, tell ’em you’re on a special mission for General Lee or something and that they’re not to shoot. It ain’t much and I can’t see how they’ll all get the word, but it’s all I can do. Maybe they won’t shoot you if you’re under a white flag.’
Gilbert and Roberto said nothing.
‘I’d be more worried about artillery,’ continued the soldier. ‘Especially theirs. Listen out and if you hear the crack of a cannon, you’ve probably got two seconds to get clear of the wagon.’
41
They began to make their way up the road. Gilbert was in a cold sweat. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. As they got closer to the top, he saw that what he had taken to be a roadblock was actually some kind of breastwork made from fence rails and rocks. It followed the line of the ridge so what the Confederates had done was to fortify the high ground. A wall of faces looked across the breastwork at them and the line bristled with bayonets and leveled musket barrels. Gilbert waved the flag like crazy. He was sweating profusely and his shirt was soaked from the warm rain and his own fear. He looked across at Roberto and saw that the Italian’s face was covered in droplets of sweat and rain.
The ground to the right sloped away gently and now Roberto guided Leonardo off the road onto the muddy field. This would enable them to get round the end of the Confederate line. The wagon rocked and there was a scream of pain from the back. They were now over at an angle and Gilbert was convinced that the wagon would topple over. But Roberto walked Leonardo very slowly and even though the wagon bounced and rocked on the uneven ground, it stayed upright. The Confederate line was no more than twenty yards away and hundreds of muskets were sighted at them. Gilbert looked at them and waved the flag. All it’ll take is one, a voice kept saying in his head. All it’ll take is one. When the wagon swayed particularly violently, they heard the lieutenant’s groans of pain.
Suddenly there was a crackle of musket fire. Roberto swore, Gilbert said, ‘Christ’ and they both ducked so violently that their bodies nearly ended up between their knees. But then they noticed that the shots had sounded more distant and didn’t seem to have been aimed at them. Gilbert waved the flag with even more enthusiasm.
Then he remembered that over on their right were the Union soldiers. He had nearly forgotten about them. It had been one of those who had shot the lieutenant so the wagon was clearly within range of the Union skirmishers. Gilbert held the white flag higher and waved it frantically.
They had gotten past where the Confederate line bulged out onto the ridge and now Roberto began to guide the wagon back towards the road. They were still under the Rebel muskets. Time seemed to have slowed down. It felt as though they were hardly moving at all. Gilbert had his hands over his head at this stage, shaking the flag. Roberto had hunched his back and then Gilbert realized that he had done the same – his shoulders were almost pulled up to his ears. If there was a shot he hoped it would be quick and clean.
The wagon crossed a shallow gully that caused it to sway savagely and then it more or less bounced its way back onto the road. There was no sound from the rear but Gilbert had no time to think about that now. They began to pull out of range of the Confederates. Roberto let out a long sigh that seemed to go on forever.
‘So now I guess we look for some blue soldiers,’ said Roberto.
Gilbert couldn’t speak. He just nodded.
They were traveling north again. The road dropped gently away from the Confederate breastworks and then began an easy climb. The rails of shattered and dismantled fences lay on both sides of the road. On their right was an orchard of peach trees. The grass amongst the trees had been trampled down so much that it looked like it had been compressed. Many of the trees had raw marks on them where they had been nicked by bullets and a few had been cut in two and felled. In amongst the trees of the orchard Gilbert saw his first dead bodies. There was a handful of them. From the seat of the wagon, they looked like dark mounds of discarded clothing or baggage against the washed out green of the grass.
Just beyond the orchard was a small track leading off to the right that looked like the entrance to a farm. Along the track were a couple of covered wagons and some soldiers in blue.
‘There,’ said Gilbert. ‘Turn down there.’
The men who were with the wagons were wandering amongst the trees of the peach orchard and around a heavily damaged barn that stood beyond it. From time to time they stooped to pick up a musket, a belt, a pack or some other piece of equipment. When their arms were full they returned to a wagon and threw their load in the back.
Over to the right the ground sloped gently away amongst the peach trees. There was a shallow grave there with a number of soldiers lying in it side by side. The grave had been partially filled in so that some of the bodies were covered with loose earth. The others had just a few shovelfuls of dirt thrown across them and the last man in the grave was merely wrapped in a blanket. All the bodies that were visible were Confederates. Some planks that looked like bits of floorboards were stuck in the ground near a few of the soldiers’ heads to act as headboards.
They saw some movement amongst the trees and next minute, a Union soldier with a musket stepped out on the track. He had the smooth face of a child and his uniform was too big for his stick arms and legs. The boy couldn’t have been more than fifteen. Gilbert wondered about the things he had seen.
‘We’ve got a wounded man in back,’ said Gilbert. ‘We need to get him to a hospital. Is there one along here?’
‘Afraid not, sir. Rebs had a hospital in that farmhouse over there but it’s gone now. Wasn’t a pretty sight when we found it. They lit out before they could finish burying their dead.’
He indicated the bodies in the shallow graves.
‘You looking for a hospital, you gonna have to go back to the road you’ve just turned off, go a few hundred yards north and turn to the right. That’ll take you into our lines and they got hospitals there.’
‘Much obliged,’ Gilbert said.
Back on the road, they passed what remained of another peach orchard. This one had been far more severely damaged. The ground was churned up and most of the trees had been felled. An occasional tree with most of the trunk flailed by gunfire still stood. Gilbert was no gardener but he reckoned that any of the ones that were still standing looked too damaged to survive. But it was the ground between the trees that he found himself starin
g at. It was littered with corpses.
They lay, blue and gray, dull shapes on the muddy ground. Many were without boots or jackets and had their pockets turned out. Pieces of paper lay scattered about. Gilbert wondered if they were letters. The bodies lay in every conceivable angle – sprawled on their backs, on their sides, some looking as though they were asleep. Limbs were bent into all sorts of poses and one or two had arms sticking up in the air. The faces – those that he could see – had a dirty blue pallor to them. He noticed too that some of the corpses were fat, but then he understood that it wasn’t fat but rather they had swollen as the gases inside them had begun to expand.
For the first time Gilbert became aware of a pungent sweet smell that filled the air. The corpses were starting to rot. The rain would have started the process. If the hot weather returned the stench of the battlefield would become unbearable.
They turned down the road that ran beside the peach orchard. A few moments later they saw some soldiers in faded blue greatcoats standing in the road up ahead. They had muskets with bayonets on their shoulders but removed them and leveled them as the wagon got closer. Gilbert waved the flag; Roberto brought Leonardo to a halt a few yards away from them.
‘Mornin’,’ said Gilbert.
A sergeant with a wide, heavy face and thick, swooping moustaches beneath the peak of his cap, nodded almost imperceptibly in acknowledgement.
‘Got a wounded man in back,’ said Gilbert.
The sergeant indicated that they should have a look. Gilbert got down and went with him to the rear of the wagon. Gilbert pulled back the black canvas. The lieutenant’s sweat covered face was the first thing he saw. The man’s eyes were open and glassy and staring.
‘I’m afraid you got a dead man there, sir,’ said the sergeant.
Gilbert saw a momentary image of Sarah as she lay lifeless. He let the canvas fall back.
‘Up on the ridge there,’ said the sergeant, indicating further up the road. ‘They’re doing a lot of buryin’. Take him up there and they’ll take care of him for you. What are you doing here anyway, mister?’
The man had what Gilbert imagined a sergeant’s voice should be like – deep and resonant. He sounded like he would have been a good singer. He looked like a gentle man and Gilbert took an instant liking to him. This man had probably been engaged in nightmarish things yesterday and now, here he was as though nothing much had happened.
‘We’re photographers,’ said Gilbert. ‘Come to photograph the battlefield. Let the folks back home see what it’s really like. All that stuff in back of the wagon – that’s our equipment.’
The sergeant considered this. What if they were stopped now, thought Gilbert and not allowed to go any further?
‘Okay,’ said the sergeant. ‘I guess you can’t do too much harm.’
‘I suppose the battle is over?’ asked Gilbert, trying to relax things a little.
As he said the words he was struck again by a pang of guilt for not being in uniform. He wondered what these men must think of him. The sergeant looked at him and said, ‘For now, at least. We gave Johnny Reb a good whippin’ yesterday, so we reckon he won’t be comin’ our way today.’
‘Was the battle fought just here?’ asked Gilbert.
‘Mister, this here battle was the biggest battle I’ve ever seen – and I’ve seen ’em all since the Seven Days. It was fought here and up on them two hills and along this ridge and down over there and over beyond Gettysburg. There’s talk of fifty thousand lost ‘tween us and the Rebs. But nobody knows for sure – we’re still gatherin’ ’em in.’
‘Fifteen thousand?’ asked Gilbert.
He wasn’t sure he’d heard the sergeant correctly. It seemed an unimaginable number.
‘Fifty, sir. Fifty thousand,’ the sergeant said quietly.
Gilbert felt the sergeant’s eyes boring into him as he said it. Gilbert was unable to speak. It wasn’t possible. Such a number wasn’t possible. Fifty thousand was an army. How could it be just the dead and wounded?
‘Well, I guess I’m gonna let you through then. But mind how you go. Everything’s in a lot of confusion right now. There’s probably still a lot of jumpy, trigger-happy folks around. And if you see any unexploded shells, be sure to give ’em a wide berth. So mind you take care. There’s enough men gotta be buried today without adding you two to the list. And if you hear the Rebs coming over you’d better hightail it outta there.’
The sergeant turned to the troopers, but then he turned back again.
‘And just to give you a sense of where you are – this here, where you are now, was the left of our line. So go along this road to the end, turn left and go along the ridge top. You’ll be traveling along our line.
‘I’m much obliged to you, sergeant,’ said Gilbert, tipping his hat.
They pushed on. To the left there was a gentle rise towards a barn and a lone tree a few hundred yards away. Here the stench of rotting flesh suddenly became much stronger. Gilbert saw the reason on the ground near the top of rise – the large dark shapes of dead horses against the gray background of sky and rain. There were at least ten.
‘It’s cruel what they do to the ‘orses, boss,’ said Roberto.
‘What?’ asked Gilbert.
‘They kill ’em so that the artillerymen can’t move their guns. Makes it easier to capture artillery pieces.’
‘How do you know about this?’ asked Gilbert.
‘I read about it after the Battle of Antietam.’
They reached the end of the road and turned left as the sergeant had told them. A little ways along there was a house on their left with a fence around it and sheltered by some trees. There were a lot of men in blue moving around in front of it and even though it wasn’t dark, lights burned in its windows.
‘A hospital?’ wondered Gilbert. ‘A good picture?’
‘Maybe,’ said Roberto. ‘But I guess we wanna start with dead bodies.’
‘We’ve got one of our own in the back,’ said Gilbert blackly.
They passed the farm and continued on. Now on the left, a vista opened out to reveal the land stretching away and forming a shallow valley. A road ran along the floor of the valley and then the ground rose slowly again to a wooded ridge about a mile away. This was the road from Emmitsburg that they had been traveling. They were now on a road parallel to this. Through the rain they could see the low band of dirty gray-white smoke that marked the Confederate line. It ran through the distant woods so that the trees seemed to rise up out of the smoke.
And then Roberto cried out, ‘Oh my God!’
42
There were bodies everywhere. They began between the road and the woods. The far field was spattered with corpses. There were hardly any near the trees but the concentrations thickened near the road; it was every bit as bad as the peach orchard. Along the ruined fences at the side of the road there were great drifts of corpses. Gilbert saw several bodies draped over the few sections of fencing that remained intact.
But it was the sight on this side of the road that had caused Roberto to cry out. Strewn all across the open ground that ran up towards where they were, the ground was littered with corpses. It looked as though there were thousands of them. There were places where it wasn’t possible to see the ground at all so thick were the bodies. The complex sweet smell that they had first noticed at the peach orchard was overpowering here.
‘Here, boss,’ said Roberto. ‘Here is where we must take our pictures.’
‘Let’s go on a little further,’ said Gilbert. ‘Maybe it’s worse further along’ – though, as he said it, he thought it was hard to see how.
Up ahead to their right, several wagons were parked in the field. Around them scores of soldiers in blue were working. Some dug long deep trenches that were clearly going to be graves. Others looped pieces of rope round the legs of corpses and dragged them into piles. At least this was what was done to the bodies that were in gray or butternut. The Union corpses were lifted onto stretchers and lowere
d gently to the ground near the burial pits. Further back from the crest of the ridge it seemed like normal military life might be going on since, somewhere out of sight and faintly heard, a band was playing ‘When Johnny Comes Marching Home’.
Gilbert marveled at these men. Yesterday they had been fighting for their lives and dealing out the death that lay all round. Today they seemed to be carrying on with the normal mundane tasks of military life. What were they feeling? Were they stunned? In shock? Were they immune to the horrors around them? Grateful to be alive? Did the world seem sweeter to them – even on a miserable day like today – as there were so many of their comrades who were no longer alive to feel the breath of the air and the soft rain on their skin?
A low stone wall began on their left and ran along for several hundred yards. Just as with the fences down on the road, there were drifts of bodies here. But here the horror was worse. It looked as though a terrible struggle had taken place. There were bodies on both sides of the wall and strewn across it. On this side there were huge numbers of blue-clad bodies; a carpet of gray and butternut lay on the far side. Along the wall the two layers met and became intermingled. In some places the wall was not visible at all, covered as it was with dead bodies. Bits of equipment – guns, blankets, haversacks – lay scattered around. Muskets stuck up at odd angles through the dense layer of corpses. Amidst the sea of dead bodies, there were several broken cannon with one or both wheels blown off. A couple of trees with umbrella like foliage seemed to be the only things that still lived, rising up out of the layers of death around them.
They drove the wagon forward and found an officer, a major supervising the burial parties. Gilbert explained to him what they wanted to do.
‘Just don’t get in the way,’ the man said, in a way that wasn’t unkind.
‘What happened here, sir?’ asked Roberto.
‘A great charge, sir. A great charge is what happened here. Rebs were over there,’ he said, pointing at the line of woods. ‘We were up here. Our centre was those trees. Rebs came out of the woods, great lines of them – reckon there must have been fifteen thousand of them. Came this way to take our positions.
Sunlight (The Four Lights Quartet Book 2) Page 18