Michael Shaara - The Killer Angels

”Sir, message from General Hood. He says his scouts have moved to the right, says there’s nothing there. Nothing between us and the Federal train. He suggests most urgently we move around the big hill there and take them from the rear.”

Longstreet sighed. “Sonny boy,” he said patiently, disgustedly, “you go back and tell Sam that I been telling General Lee that same damn thing for two days, move to the right, and there aint no point in bringing it up again. Tell him to attack as ordered.”

The young scout saluted and was gone. Longstreet sat alone. And there was happy-eyed Fremantle, dirty and cheery on a ragged horse. He seemed never to change his clothes.

”General, are things about to commence?”

”They are indeed.” Longstreet grinned. “I suggest you find a convenient tree.”

”I will, oh, I will indeed.” He turned, pulling the horse away, then turned back. “Oh, sir, I say, best of luck.”

”Charming,” Longstreet said.

Barksdale’s Brigade, Mississippians, was passing him, moving into line. He watched them place all extra baggage, all blankets, all kitbags, and post one lone guard-a frail young man who looked genuinely ill, who sagged against the fence. Longstreet approached and saw that the corn-silk hair was not young, not young at all. The frail young man was a gaunt man with white hair. And he was ill. He opened red eyes, stared vaguely upward.

”Howdy, General,” he said. He smiled feebly.

Longstreet said, “Can I get you anything?”

The old man shook his head. He gasped. “Aint nothin’ serious. Damn green apples. Damn Yankee apples.” He clutched his stomach. Longstreet grinned, moved on.

He saw Barksdale from a long way off. The famous politician had his hat off and was waving it wildly and his white hair was flowing and bobbing, conspicuous, distinguished. Longstreet was fond of this Brigade. Privately he thought it the best in McLaws’ whole Division, but of course he couldn’t say so. But everybody knew Mississippi was tough. What was it that old man said back in Chambersburg? “You men of Virginia are gentlemen. But those people from Mississippi.” Longstreet grinned. Another fella had said the same thing about Hood’s Texans.

The joke about breastworks. Oh God, let’s go.

The same officer, back from Hood. The face was wary, the voice was firm, “General Hood begs to report, sir, that the enemy has his left flank in the air. He requests your presence, sir, or that of General Lee. He begs to inform you that in his opinion it would be most unwise to attack up the Emmitsburg Road. The ground is very bad and heavily defended. Whereas if we move to the rear, sir, there is no defense all. The enemy has uncovered the Rocky Hill.”

Longstreet said, “Tell General Hood…” Then he thought: they uncovered the Rocky Hill. McLaws has troops in front of him. Good God. They aren’t back on the ridge at all; they’ve moved forward. He took out the map he had drawn of the position, tried to visualize it.

The Union Army was supposed to be up on the ridge. But it wasn’t. It was down in the peach orchard.

He stared at the map again.

So Hood had found an opening to the right. Of course.

Longstreet stared again at his watch. Almost four. Lee was miles away. If I go to him now… He saw again the grave gray face, the dark reproachful eyes. Too late.

Well, Longstreet thought. Lee wants a frontal assault. I guess he’ll have one. He turned to the messenger.

”Tell General Hood to attack as ordered.”

McLaws and Barksdale came up together. Barksdale was breathing deeply, face pale, ready for the fight. He said, “When do we go in?”

”In a while, in a while.”

There was a cannon to the right. The beginning? No. Hood was probing with his batteries. Longstreet extracted another cigar. The supply was low. Calmly he told Goree to go get some more. He looked up to see Harry Sellars. Hood’s AG. Longstreet thought: Sellars is a good man, the best he has. Hood’s trying to impress me. The cannon boomed. Sellars started talking. Longstreet said gently, “Harry, I’m sorry.”

Sellars said, his voice touched with desperation, “General, will you look at the ground? We can’t even mount artillery.”

”All right.” Longstreet decided to ride with him. Time was running out. Even now, if Lee attacked en echelon, some of the brigades could not attack before dark, unless everything went very smoothly, and it would not go smoothly, not today. Longstreet rode, listening to Sellars, thinking: when you study war it’s all so clear. Everybody knows all the movements. General So and So should have done such and such. God knows we all try. We none of us lose battles on purpose. But now on this field what can we do that’s undone?

He came on Hood, preparing to move out. There was something rare in his face; a light was shining from his eyes. Longstreet had heard men talk of Hood’s face in a fight, but he had not seen it; the fight had not yet begun. But Hood’s eyes, normally so soft and sad, were wide and black as round coals, shining with a black heat.

Hood said, “General, the ground is strewn with boulders.

They are dug in all over the ground and there are guns in the rocks above. Every move I make is observed. If I attack as ordered I will lose half my Division, and they will still be looking down our throats from that hill. We must move to the right.”

Longstreet said nothing. He looked down; through thick woods he could begin to see the boulders, great boulders tall as houses, piled one upon another like the wreckage of a vast explosion.

Hood said, “How can you mount cannon in that?”

Longstreet: “Sam…” He shook his head. He thought of it again. No. Too late. I cannot go against Lee. Not again. He said, “Sam, the Commanding General will not approve a move to the right. I argued it yesterday. I argued it all morning. Hell, I’ve been arguing against any attack at all. How can I call this one off? We have our orders. Go on in. We’re waiting on you.”

Hood stared at him with the black round eyes. Longstreet felt an overwhelming wave of sadness. They’re all going in to die. But he could say nothing. Hood stared at him.

Hood: “Let me move to the right, up the Round Hill. If I could get a battery up there…”

Longstreet shook his head. “Not enough time. You’d have to cut trees; it would be dark before you were in action.”

But he was staring upward at the top of the Rocky Hill.

Everywhere you went, that damned hill looked down on you. The key to the position. Once they got a battery up there. Longstreet said, “You’re going to have to take that hill.”

He pointed.

Hood said, “They don’t even need rifles to defend that. All they need to do is roll rocks down on you.”

Longstreet said, “But you’re going to have to take it.”

”General, I do this under protest.”

Longstreet nodded. Hood turned. His staff was waiting.

He began issuing orders in a low voice. Longstreet backed away. Hood saluted and rode off. Longstreet rode back toward McLaws.

Goodbye, Sam. You’re right. You’re the best I’ve got. If I lose you, I don’t know what I’ll do. God bless you, Sam.

Longstreet was rattled. Never been this rattled in a fight.

But the guns began and the sound livened him. We’ll brood later. We’ll count the dead and brood later. With any luck at all… but did you see those rocks?

He rode out into the open. That damned rocky hill stood off to his right, overlooking the field. That they should leave it uncovered was incredible. He saw motion: signal flags?

Something was up there. Not a battery, not yet. The fire of Hood was spreading. The first brigade had hit. There was no wind now, the air all dead around him. Hood’s smoke stayed where it was, then slowly, very slowly, like a huge ghost, the white cloud came drifting gracefully up the ridge, clinging to the trees, drifting and tearing. The second brigade was following. The fire grew. Longstreet moved to where McLaws and Barksdale were standing together.