The Last Full Measure

by Jeff Shaara

  They were close to Sheridan's horsemen now, and the sunlight was drying the roads, again. The men were eating their rations, had been given three days of food to carry on the march from White Oak Road. The food was not very good, not what they were normally issued. The long line of wagons mostly carried ammunition, and it was a plain, simple message. Cartridge boxes were clearly the priority, certainly to the commanders, if not to the men themselves.

  He sat on a log, finished a cold cup of coffee, stared down into the muddy flow of a creek. Hearing a horse, he turned, saw Griffin, who dismounted and walked slowly toward him. Griffin lifted his hat, rubbed his face with his hand. Chamberlain noticed Griffin's belt, and that he wasn't wearing his sword.

  He began to stand, and Griffin said, "No, General, stay put. Drink your coffee."

  Chamberlain motioned with the cup, said, "Your sword, sir."

  Griffin put a hand on his belt.

  "Lost it, all the ruckus last night. Some reb probably wearing it this morning."

  Chamberlain put the cup down, quickly unbuckled his own sword, held it out to Griffin.

  "Please, Sir, I insist."

  Griffin took the sword, looked at it appraisingly, nodded, said, "Thank you. Most generous of you, General. It will be returned." Chamberlain nodded, thought, More men will follow your sword than mine.

  "I will find another, Sir."

  Griffin sat now, and Chamberlain waited, knew there was something happening, could tell from the grim clench in Griffin's jaw that he had something to say.

  Chamberlain tossed the coffee cup behind him, toward the fire, saw an aide pick it up, and he nodded apologetically, thought, I suppose I will sit here until he says it's time to move.... "It)s going to be a tough day." Chamberlain looked at Griffin, who said again, "A tough day."

  Chamberlain nodded, thought, Well, we're sort of used to that by now.

  "You know," Griffin said, "we're under Sheridan's command. And this morning General Grant gave General Sheridan the authority to do what he feels is best to maintain this command."

  Chamberlain said, "Maintain... what do you mean?" Griffin looked at him, said, "It means General Grant has given General Sheridan authority to relieve anyone he chooses, if he sees fit. The message was specific, actually. General Grant mentioned General Warren by name."

  Relieve Warren? Chamberlain thought of the march that morning, leading his column into the open ground around Dinwiddie, seeing Sheridan for the first time. He said, "That explains General Sheridan's reaction... what he said this morning." :, You spoke to General Sheridan?" Griffin said.

  "Yes, we marched into the fields, over there, along the road, and I saw the headquarters flag, rode over myself, and he came out to meet me. I was... maybe I was too relieved at getting the march over with, so I was, maybe, a bit too casual."

  Griffin, smiling now, asked, "What the hell did you say?"

  "Well, I offered my respects, and reported to him with the lead of the division. He asked where General Warren was. I told him, at the rear of the corps."

  "The rear... ? I'm sure he found that amusing."

  Chamberlain heard the sarcasm in Griffin's voice, said, "He was not terribly amused. He said, "That's where I expected him to be." He eral Warren was doing back there, and I tried to ex asked me what Gen 1 plain that we were withdrawing from White Oak Road in the face of the enemy, but-" C4 But he didn't want to hear all of that." Chamberlain shook his head.

  "No. I don't understand his reaction. General Warren was doing the best he could last night. I had thought..." Chamberlain paused, thought, Careful... But there were too many hard memories.

  "I thought... we should still be back there.

  We gave up a lot of good men to take that road."

  Griffin looked down toward the creek, said, "We are here because General Sheridan ordered us to be here. General Warren is not popular at headquarters, hasn't been for a long time. Maybe since the Wilderness. I have seen it myself, he often concerns himself with too many details, stirs too many pots, makes too many suggestions where they might not be welcome. And he has been slow, occasionally."

  Chamberlain felt words boiling up, held it, thought, Who hasn't been slow in this army? Who can operate with commanders scattered all over the countryside, orders coming in from all directions, no one knowing what is going on?

  Chamberlain said nothing, knew that Griffin was probably right, that even the troops had been through the whole range of disgust and frustration, the job in front of them plain and simple, the commands often delayed and confusing. It made things simpler to be out here, far from the main lines, from Petersburg, simpler to be under the command of one man. But Sheridan was quick to anger, reacted often by charging into the fire rather than thinking things through, had a strong eye focused on his relationship with Grant, and thus his relationship with Washington and the newspapers.

  Chamberlain said, "General Warren has done all right, if you ask me."

  Griffin looked at him again, with a sad smile.

  "I don't believe General Sheridan will ask you." T

  HE ORDERS CAME LATE IN THE DAY. WARREN'S CORPS WAS TO

  move close to the cavalry, to strengthen Sheridan's position. But the roads were confusing, and there were delays, communications and troop movements made worse by the dense woods and swampy ground the soldiers had to travel. Sheridan had been furious at the delays, his temper echoing along the slow progress of the men, but by mid-afternoon, the corps had finally come together. If the men did not know of the anger and frustration of their commander, they quickly understood how serious their position had become. To the north, Pickett and Fitz Lee held the intersection at Five Forks, were spread in a strong line east and west along the White Oak Road. On the east end of the line, the gap still remained, a wide space that separated Pickett from the rest of Lee's army. At the eastern end of his forward position, Pickett had refused the line, turned his men north at angle to the road.

  Sheridan's plan was straightforward, and as Chamberlain looked at the drawing, the sketches on paper, he could hear his men moving into line, horses moving past, the sound of an army pulling itself into motion. He ran his finger along the road they would march, thought, Yes, this is a very good plan.

  The dismounted cavalry would assault on the left, with the three divisions of the Fifth Corps moving up on the right. The focal point of the assault for the infantry would be the right angle in Pickett's line, with Ayres's division striking right on the point of the angle. Craws'on would lead, and Griffin would follow farther out to the ford's divi I right, moving beyond Pickett's flank, then wheeling to the left, to strike that part of the rebel works that spread to the north. With the cavalry doing the same on the west end, the sheer strength of the Fed1 it ire pos eral assault should envelop Pickett and Fi z Lee's enti it ion Completely cutting them off from the rest of Lee's army. n hardening They moved forward at four P.M." a quick march o roads. Chamberlain rode again beside the young color bearer, Sergeant Arthur, whose name he would not forget now, had fixed itself in his saw it every 1 it one way, mind with a strange logic. He could only see i time he looked at the maps. The sergeant was named after a swamp.

  He knew their right flank was vulnerable, that somewhere beyond the low hills, the rest of Lee's army was probably in motion.

  Griffin had warned him to keep a sharp lookout, and Chamberlain had positioned a small force out to the right, not enough strength to fend off an attack, but at least a warning. They knew now, Lee was out there himself, the prisoners had brought the news, and Chamberlain felt a pride in that, that he'd taken his brigade across Gravelly Run r 1 e, locked away was a small ight at Robert E. Lee. But somewher breath of relief that he hadn't known it at the time.

  There were scattered shots to the left, far in the distance. Our cavalry, Chamberlain thought, out there, moving with us. He felt a thrill now, something different from before, from the assaults of the past few days. There was something about Sheridan, about going, into a fight with the po
wer, the good plan. Behind him the men felt it as well, and he turned in the saddle, looked back, saw the faces looking up at him.

  Men began to smile, the weariness of the march now past, the short rest and the light rations all they would need.

  The maps had shown that the road they were on would take them straight at the place where Pickett's line made the turn northward- He could see out to the front now, a wide space of open ground, could see Crawford's division spread into line, moving straight ahead. There was a small bend in the road, and he was staring ahead, and suddenly there was an intersection. He pushed the horse forward, looked in both directions, a long stretch of open road, no troops, no works. folHe turned, motioned to an aide, said, "Keep them moving low Crawford. I have to find General Griffin." lose Spurring the horse, he moved to the rear, knew Griffin was c behind. He saw the flags, reined the horse, pulled the map out of his pocket.

  "Sir," he said, "it appears... we are crossing the White Oak Road. There's no sign of the enemy."

  Griffin did not look at the map, said, "Don't worry about maps, General. Our orders are to follow General Crawford. We'll find somebody up here. They didn't just go away."

  There was musket fire up ahead now, off to the right. Chamberlain turned, said, "Yes... there they are!" He listened to the small scattered shots, no sustained volley. Suddenly confused, he said, "But... that means we're on the left. The cavalry's on the left, we're supposed to be on the right."

  Griffin listened, a silent pause, the shooting still scattered, far up to the right.

  "That's no fight, just skirmishers. Crawford's just running into some resistance from the east. Could be Lee, pushing this way. Back to your brigade, General. Keep an eye to the right."

  Chamberlain saluted, saw anger darkening GrIffin's face, thought, Yes, it could be Lee... but where is Pickett? He spurred the horse, moved up into the wide road, watched his troops still following Crawford's lines. He reined the horse, thought, If Lee is to the right, then we must be way too far east.

  Suddenly, there was a roar, a massive volley of muskets, the sound rolling up toward him from the west, straight down the road. There were big guns now, the hard sounds punching the air, and he raised his hand, motioned to the bugler, the command to halt the line.

  He raised his glasses, stared straight down the road, could see nothing, then made out a rising cloud of smoke, the sounds still flowing out in one great wave. He looked behind him, saw the second brigade coming up, Gregory's men, and Chamberlain yelled, "This way... wheel them around! We're not where we're supposed to be!"

  Gregory began to move, his men flowing over the road, his lines pivoting, swinging toward the west and the vast sounds of the fight. Chamberlain moved in front of his own columns now, waved his arm, his men wheeling about as well. He glanced up above the road, could still see Crawford's division, moving farther away, and now he could see it, understood what had happened. Yes, the maps were wrong, they had reached the White Oak Road well to the right of the enemy's position. But Crawford... was still moving away, was moving off in the wrong direction. Chamberlain saw horsemen now, flags, could see Warren, the perfect uniform, the bright gold sash, riding hard, moving out toward Crawford. Yes, Chamberlain thought, he knows as well. Turn them around... His men were in line now, facing west, and Chamberlain looked around, thought, It isn't supposed to be like this. There should be orders. I hope... this is the right move.

  Then he saw more horsemen, Griffin, with Bartlett, the Third Brigade. Griffin was waving to him, waving the sword Chamberlain had given him, furiously waving his hand, and Chamberlain saw him pointing, the clear sign: yes, go, take them into the fight.

  HE CAVALRY HAD BEGUN THE FIGHT, SLAMMING HARD INTO THE rebel front, pushing forward across the road. On the right, Ayres's division, having moved up across the White Oak Road, was suddenly blasted from the left, and moved out just beyond Pickett's flank, where it was hit hard from Pickett's line. Leading two thirds of Griffin's division, Chamberlain could not see Ayres's fight, rode down through a shallow ravine, then up, in sight of the heavy earthworks Pickett's men had spread up to the north. The volleys were blowing down across the road, Ayres's men pushed back by the surprise, trying to hold their position. On this end of the rebel position, Ayres was the only target, and the rebel muskets ripped his lines, their big guns throwing great bursts of canister into the startled blue troops.

  Chamberlain tried to see Ayres, looked for the division flags, but the smoke boiled up from the low ground, the small patches of woods down below the road. In front of him he could see big guns swinging around, the muskets now pointing into his own troops, and Chamberlain turned, yelled, "Forward!", The wave of blue surged down through the shallow depression, then climbed up, and was quickly on the rebel works. Now the smoke was in front of him, the muskets firing all along the works, the sounds whistling past him. His men were climbing the walls en masse. The firing slowed, and there were the awful sounds of men against men, bayonets and clubbing muskets. He still looked for Ayres, thought, I should tell him we are here, tell him what is happening. He glanced up toward the north, could see nothing, no sign of Crawford, of the rest of the corps.

  He spurred the horse, moved down a short hill, fought the smoke, climbed up on the road, moved below it. He could see small trees, thick brush, musket fire from below, the fire from Ayres's men.

  There were big Federal guns there now, and the sharp blasts hit the rebel works hard, shattering the dirt and logs. He pushed the horse on, searching, looking for horses, suddenly saw a different flag, a small man on a huge black horse, stopped, recognized Phil Sheridan.

  Sheridan glared at him with black fury, said, "Well, by God, that's what I want to see! General officers at the front! Where's your command, where's the rest of your commanders?"

  Chamberlain pointed toward the north, ducked under a sudden blast of wind, the impact of the shell tearing into the brush behind Sheridan.

  "Sir, General Warren is with Crawford's division. General Griffin instructed me to bring two brigades to support General Ayres."

  Sheridan looked toward the north, his anger growing, said, "Ayres... I don't know where he is... but yes, take your men into the flank, good, yes! Do it! Take command of anyone you see here, any infantry! Break them, dammit!"

  Chamberlain started to answer, his arm rising in salute, and there was a sudden blast close behind him, the horse bolting forward. Chamberlain regained control, then spurred the animal, was quickly gone from Sheridan. He moved now below the road, thought, No, I don't want him that angry at me. He saw a line of blue coming up from the thick brush, looked for officers, saw a flag. They were from Ayres's division, the Third Brigade. He moved quickly, saw a familiar face, Jim Gwyn, reined the horse. Gwyn's face was red and sweating, with a small flicker of panic.

  Chamberlain said, "General Gwyn... what are your orders) Where is General Ayres?"

  Gwyn looked at Chamberlain with relief, someone who might know something, said, "I have no orders. I've lost General Ayres... this brush is too thick. We're cut off."

  Chamberlain could hear musket fire again, the sounds cutting the air around him, Gwyn's men now in plain sight of the rebel works. He turned, saw blue on the right, above the road, his men still fighting the rebels up close. He looked at Gwyn, saw a man waiting for instructions, thought now of Sheridan: He told me... take command.

  "General, come with me. Bring your men forward. I will take responsibility. You shall have the credit. Let me have your brigade for a moment!"

  Gwyn saluted him, still waiting for orders. Chamberlain saw the men watching him and he yelled, "Forward, right oblique!"

  Gwyn turned, repeated the order, and the blue line began to move forward, climbing up toward the road, straight into the fight where Chamberlain's men were holding a wide stronghold in the rebel works. Chamberlain moved his horse to one side, waited for the line to move by, then rode up alongside, thought of the salute, thought, He probably outranks me.

  He looked fa
rther down, saw more flags, thought, It must be Ayres. He jerked the horse, spurred it hard. He rode behind Gwyn's line, was suddenly surrounded by horsemen, Sheridan again. Sheridan was more angry than before, red-faced, waving a fist close to Chamberlain's face.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  Chamberlain pointed at the flags, at Ayres now riding toward them, didn't know what Sheridan was asking. Sheridan ignored Ayres, said, "You're firing into my cavalry!"

  Chamberlain looked up toward the rebel lines, the fight now swelling into a new roar of sound, Gwyn's men disappearing over the wall. Chamberlain felt the heat rising in his face, looked at Sheridan, held it for a moment, then said, "Then the cavalry is in the wrong place. One of us will have to get out of the way! What will you have me do, General?"

  Sheridan stared at him with wide-eyed shock, his mouth moving slowly, and Chamberlain was still angry, thought, Well, that may be the last thing I say to b1m.