Michael Shaara - The Killer Angels

Early said calmly, silently, bored, “There were reports of Federal troops in the north. We couldn’t bring artillery to bear, and no word came from Hill, as you know. We decided it would be best to wait for Johnson.” Yes, yes, Ewell nodded vigorously, thumping the wooden leg. “But he did not arrive until dark, just a while ago. He’s out now, looking over the terrain.”

Ewell went on nodding. Lee looked at Rodes, who said nothing. After a moment Early said, “You may remember, sir, that I passed over this ground a few days ago and am familiar with it. The hill is named Cemetery Hill. It has another hill beyond it, also occupied. It will be a very strong position.”

Lee closed his eyes for a moment, was very tired. Think of all of it later. An aide brought a cup of hot boiled coffee, thick with sugar. Lee drank, revived, abruptly saw the face of Jackson in his mind, a flare of cold blue eyes. He looked up, blinked. Could almost see him. Jackson was here.

Jackson was looking on.

Ewell was drinking coffee. Early had folded his arms.

Rodes still gazed at the ground, plucking at one of his fingers. Lee said, “Can you attack on this flank, in the morning?”

Ewell sat up. Early did not move. Lee felt the depression, cold and slow and steady like a wind in his brain, shook his head to blow it away.

Early said, “That hill will be a very strong position. Once it is fortified. Which they are doing right now.”

”Very strong.” Ewell nodded violently.

”Have you looked over the ground, sir?” Early asked.

”From a distance.”

Early leaned back into the dark. He spoke slowly, deliberately. “I do not think we should attack this point.

This will be the strong point. Our troops have marched hard today and fought hard today. I suggest we hold here while the rest of the army makes an attack on the other flank.”

”You think an attack here would succeed?”

”I think it would be very costly.”

Ewell nodded. Lee turned.

”General Rodes?”

Rodes looked up, glanced away, shrugged.

”We’ll attack, of course. But the men have had a good fight. And it will be a strong position.” He looked up at Ewell, then quickly away. “I’m sorry we did not take it today.”

”Well,” Lee said. “Today is done.”

”General Longstreet has not been engaged,” Eariy said.

”His Corps has not been fought for some time.” He was referring to Chancellorsville, where Longstreet’s men had been detached. “If he were to attack on the right he would draw the enemy from this position and we could then attempt the assault. Supported, of course, by General Hill.”

Lee thought: Longstreet cannot stand the man. I wonder why? Something too cold here, something disagreeable in the silence of the eyes, the tilt of the head. Jubal. Strange name. Old Jubilee. Nothing happy about the man. And yet, unmistakable competence. Lee said, “Longstreet proposes that we move our army to the right around the enemy flank and interpose between Meade and Washington.”

”And vacate this position?” Ewell popped his eyes, slapped the splintered wood again. “Leave this town, which we have just captured?”

Lee said, with some irritation, “The town is of no importance.”

Ewell looked to Eariy. Eariy said slowly, “To move this entire Corps, in the face of a fortified enemy?” He smiled slightly, with a touch of the disdain for which he was rapidly becoming notorious.

”Hardly fitting,” Ewell piped. “Hardly. Troops fought so hard for this town, do we move them out and march them off into the woods, in sight of the enemy? Morale will suffer. General. The boys are ready. Our boys are ready.”

”Longstreet is on me defensive again.” Early grinned. “ Suppose that’s to be expected. But really, sir, it seems we are here and the enemy is mere, and Hill and General Ewell have engaged and Longstreet has not. If Longstreet can be induced to attack on the right, we can give you this hill tomorrow by sundown.”

Ewell was nodding again, pointing at Early, wagging a bony finger. They talked. Lee made no decision. Must not judge Ewell now. The man had been a good soldier for too long. First day in command of the Corps. Jackson ’s old Corps.

Hill is sick. Ewell indecisive. The hill untaken. Longstreet broods on defensive war. Lee said, “Would you gentlemen retreat?”

”Retreat? Retreat?” Ewell sat with his mouth open.

Rodes looked up.

”Would you suggest that we fall back behind South Mountain?”

”Retreat?” Ewell was amazed. “But why?”

Lee said, “If we do not withdraw, and if we do not maneuver in the face of the enemy, then we must attack.

There is no other alternative.” He rose, not waiting for an answer. They accompanied him to the door. He saw a vase filled with flowers on a small wooden table. A picture of an old man frowned down out of an old round frame. Lee was thinking: very dangerous to withdraw. To pull this army with all its trains back through that pass. Without cavalry, it cannot be done. Stuart, I have waited long enough.

He thanked the men for their day’s work, told them to get a good night’s rest. Once again he saw Jackson ’s blue eyes, probing, reproachful. He thought: General, we miss you.

He rode off into the dark. Taylor was there with messages. Lee answered them, one to Imboden, one to Chilton, sent Taylor off to find the raider. Harry Gilmore, who was with Johnson. He rode off with Venable and then, moving in out of the night to greet him, saw old Isaac Trimble, astride a pale horse, fiery old Isaac. Lee smiled a greeting. General Trimble was almost sixty. Not much older than you, old man. But he looks ancient. Do I look that old?

I was tired before, but I am not tired now. No pain now. God’s blessing. What will I do about Ewell?

Trimble said, “Sir, I beg your pardon, but I will not serve the man.” He was furious. He raised one huge hand like a vast claw and made a gesture as if pushing a disgusting thing away from him, into the black air. “I will not serve the man. I am a volunteer aide with the man, sir, as you know. I most respectfully request another assignment.” He shook his head violently, almost displacing his hat. “The man is a disgrace. Have you heard it all, sir? What they have been telling you? Ask the aides, sir, or General Gordon, or Johnson.”

He went on. He was a marvelous old man who had sworn to be a Major General or a corpse. Lee gathered that he was talking about Ewell. Lee calmed him, but he wanted to hear.

Trimble said, “We should have taken that hill. God in His wisdom knows we could have taken that hill. Beyond Cemetery Hill there is another hill and it was totally unoccupied. There was no one there at all, and it commanded the town. Gordon saw it, sir, he was with us, me and Gordon and Ewell, all standing there in the flaming dark like great fat idiots with that bloody damned hill empty, begging your pardon. General, but that bloody damned hill was as bare as his bloody damned great head and it commands the town. We all saw it. General, as God is my witness, ask anyone here. McKim was there. Smith was there, they were all there. I said, ‘General Ewell, we have got to take that hill. General Jackson would not have stopped like this with the bluebellies on the run and plenty of light left and a hill like that empty as, oh God help us, I don’t know what.’ But nobody there at all. And the Federals running, no guns set up, nothing but one battery and one regiment in line.”

He was running out of breath. Lee had stopped to listen.

He sensed, among the anger, the bitter breath of truth.

Trimble took off his hat and wiped it across his brow, and his white hair gleamed in the moonlight like wadded cotton.

Lee said, “Go on.”