by Jeff Shaara
Peace I leave with you, My Peace I give unto you... He turned slowly, his hand on the end of the pew, felt his head spinning for a moment, steadied himself, then slowly walked up the aisle. Beyond the doors of the church, in the streets, the people were already in motion, the wagons and horses weighed down with the precious memories, the symbols of home, of the cause and the country that was collapsing around them.
MIDNIGHT, APRIL 2, 1865
HEY WOULD COME FOR HOURS, LONG COLUMNS OF MEN AND horses, the guns and wagons, crossing the river on bridges that would not survive, that would be burned quickly once the army was across.
He had done this before, sat on the big horse, high above the banks of a river, watching his army move away from a disaster. He kept it hidden away somewhere, would never dwell on that, the defeats, pulling his army off the field where so many good men had been left behind. He had always remembered going north, the Potomac, the glorious marches by men who knew they were winning. Now the hidden places began to open up, and he remembered moving south, the same big river, after the horrifying day at Sharpsburg, and then, after Gettysburg, watching his battered army from a high bluff, sitting on the big horse in the misery of the rain.
Now they were moving north again, but there was no spirit in the army, the men moving in slow motion, creaking wagons pulled by weak horses. He thought of Davis, all the oratory, the spirit of tbefallen, the bizarre notion that somehow they could energize the army by calling on the memories of all who had gone. It was a fine emotional theme for the politicians, made for a rousing speech in those places where the war had not yet come. But here, Lee thought, here the fallen are greatly missed, and the spirit is hard to find in the men who have lost the leadership, who have lost so much.
They did not see him moved past under dull lamplight, faces locked forward, moving out of the city they had given up so much to protect. Many of these were Hill's men, the Third- Corps, and most id not even know that Longstreet would lead them. Many had no thoughts of being led anywhere at all, that what they did now was only for their own survival.
He had heard from Anderson, finally, knew that Pickett was still with the surviving fragments of his division, that Fitz Lee could still bring horses to the fight. Lee had ordered them to move north as well, to link up with Longstreet and Gordon's men, that a good hard march would take them all to the railroad depot at Amelia Court House.
A line of wagons moved by him, and another column of troops, but there was something different about the sounds, men moving with more speed, even some voices, laughter. There was still a spark in these men, and Lee sat up straight, was surprised, looked for flags, saw now, reflected in the dull yellow of the lanterns, these were Gordon's men. He understood now, these men had not been defeated, had held their ground, held the enemy away for a full day so that the rest of the army could make it to the bridges. There is a difference, he thought. This is... another march. He had not thought of that-there would be some who would be happy to leave this place. Of course, there is nothing encouraging, he realized, nothing to build the spirit enduring a siege. Now we are moving out, and the enemy will have to pursue us. He smiled, thought of Gordon. The irony... that it would take a man who is not a professional soldier to remind us that there is still the duty, the strategy. We can still succeed. They must pursue us, and they will be vulnerable.
Amelia Court House was a forty-mile march, but once there, the Richmond and Danville Railroad could move them quickly away, southward, to link with Joe Johnston. He did not think of it as the last hope, the desperate move. It was sound strategy, might always have been, if they could have pulled out of Petersburg before. Lee thought of Davis, the pressure to preserve Richmond, thought, No, it was always a mistake. We knew there was no value, the city gave nothing to the army. This could all have happened sooner, we should have made it happen sooner. Now we will come together again, and there are fewer of us, but those who march, who still follow their commanders, there is still power in that. He knew that Ewell was coming from Richmond, had been instructed to go to Amelia as well. Ewell brought what remained of Longstreet's men, with as much of the home guard as were able, and even some naval units, sailors who had burned their own ships and were taking their fight across the land. Once they united at Amelia, the trains would be waiting for them, great long cars of food, and then they would be strong again, would move on the railroad toward Danville, toward North Carolina. And if Grant continues to pursue us, he thought, we will look for the opportunity, and we will hit him hard in the soft place, drive him back to these cities he holds as Meaningless trophies of war.
There was a great rumble, and a bright flash of light, and he squinted, tried to see, the fiery blast shaking the ground. The men on the bridge turned, and there was a cheer. Lee thought, the ammunition, the depots. There were explosions echoing all across the town now, and far to the east the big Federal guns began to open up, a response to activity the Federal commanders could see. The sky was now streaked with bright light, bursts of red and orange, small pops and thunderous booms. There were flames now, patches of fire scattered through the town. Lee did not look at that, gazed up instead, at the billowing smoke reflecting the great flashes of light.
He thought of George Washington, his great hero, the friend of his father, thought of the statue in Richmond, the tall dark bronze, where he used to go and just sit. He had often thought of Washington, the struggle for Independence, what the man had endured to see it happen. The statue will survive, he thought, they will not destroy it, even those who would burn and loot the city would not do that. I would like to see that again, take that walk along the wide street and sit in the small park across the road, and just... talk to him. He would understand what we are doing here, what this army must still do. We are still fighting for the same things, there is no difference now. The fight is not over until we say it is over, and these troops still have the spirit for the fight, even in the worst of times, something George Washington would have understood.
The sharp blasts from the enemy shells and the slow rumbling fires from the exploding munitions still lit the sky, and he stared up, marveled at the glory of that, thought, It looks like a celebration, Independence Day.
The echoing thunder now fell slowly into a rhythm, a steady roll of drums. He turned the horse, his mind holding the bright and terrible images, and moved away from the bridge, out on the dark road, the road filled with his army, marching again to the sound of drums.
44. LEE
APRIL 4, 1865 T
HERE COULD BE NO SLOWING DOWN, NO DELAY IN THE MARCH. Lee expected some pursuit, but the great Federal mass converging behind him in Petersburg was not yet on the move. On the left flank, down toward the river, Sheridan's cavalry picked and punched at him all day, but the assaults were more of an annoyance than anything significant.
They moved on roads that had not felt the marching of an army before, good roads, a network that fanned out to the west. Lee ordered the wagons and most of the artillery to move on a separate route, a parallel route above the army, so the foot soldiers would not be held back by the slow-moving horses. The goal was still Amelia, and that meant they would have to cross the river again. Once out beyond Petersburg, the Appomattox made a sharp turn northward. Amelia was below the river, and Lee sent specific word to each column of troops, to Longstreet and Gordon and Ewell, where they would cross the river, where the precious bridges should still be in place.
He rode with Longstreet's command, led a long column of troops in eerie silence. Longstreet had moved ahead, securing the crossing at a place called Goode's Bridge. Lee rode beside his own staff, a few of Longstreet's aides and a man who carried the flag of Hill's Third Corps.
He knew Gordon was behind them, bringing up the rear of the march. It was not planned that way for any good reason, except that Gordon had been farther from the bridges in Petersburg. But Gordon's men were still marching with a strong step, still carried the high morale, and so, from behind, they would prod the rest of th
e army forward. There were many stragglers now. The spirit of Gordon's men was not to be found in Hill's corps, the men who had lost their commander, whose pride had been swept away by the collapse of their defense. Many of these men carried their defeat with them, and it took something away, their strength, their energy.
As men fell by the roadside, the others in line ignored them; there were no taunts, no jeers. As Gordon's men passed by, they began to break the line as well, but it was to lend a hand, to try to bring the soldiers back into the march. Some made the effort, inspired by the talk from the men in the road, the calls to march or be captured, to suffer the long walk or suffer at the savagery of the enemy. But if some dragged themselves back into the road, many more were simply gone, fading back into the woods, wandering off on small trail Is, men weakened by the lack of food and the exhaustion of the sleepless night. After a full day's march, even the strongest of Gordon's men began to feel the effects, and stragglers fell out of their ranks as well. Many who had the strength to stay with the march began to lose the strength for anything else, and so muskets, knapsacks, and blankets all littered the roadside.
Lee saw the bridge now, saw Longstreet waiting beside the river. Lee pulled off to the side, would watch them again, crossing another d up all day, river. He listened, heard none of the sounds that had drifte the scattered musket fire, the small waves of cavalry. Lee looked at Longstreet, said, "Have we scouted across?"
Longstreet nodded, and Lee saw the same grim look, the dark serious eyes, thought, Of course be has, I do not have to tell him what to do. He has not changed, not at all. Longstreet's right arm hung by his side, limp, and Lee glanced at it, could not help it, and Longstreet saw the look, moved the arm, pulled it up to the saddle, a small show, defiant. Lee knew it was difficult for the big man, a piece of him now soft and weak.
Lee said, "How is it?" Longstreet looked away, across the river, said, "Can't write... have to use the left. It'll get better."
There was a hard finality to his words, and Lee thought, Don't ask him again. He smiled. The pride, yes, the stubbornness. Good, that is very good.
Longstreet waved the left arm across the river, said, "We're clear, no major opposition, as far as we can tell. We got word from Anderson. He'll be meeting up with us at Amelia. He's been able to gather together some of Heth and Wilcox's people, and what they could find of Pickett's."
Lee was surprised at that, had heard nothing from below the river. He said, "Do we know how many? What strength?"
There was urgency in the question, and Longstreet looked at him, said, "Not too sure. But there's a fair number. Maybe as many as we have here."
Lee felt a charge, a spark running through him, thought, If that is true... we are stronger still.
"Are you certain of that?"
Longstreet nodded, said, "According to Anderson.. "That's very good, very good indeed. That means we have nearly thirty thousand muskets... and Ewell, he must have... several thousand." He looked at Longstreet, said, "That is very good news. I did not expect to find that much strength, once we left the city."
Longstreet pulled the small pipe out of his pocket, and both men turned, watched the column of troops moving across the small bridge. Longstreet said, "I am not sure we can call it... strength. I am not sure how many men can be considered effective."
Lee watched the men marching by, and there were few cheers, the men staring straight ahead, slow and mechanical. He said, "They need to be fed. When we reach Amelia, there will be time." He looked around, out toward the south, then back to the east.
"General Grant should be pressing us, not just cavalry. And he is not. Surely, he can't be satisfied with just capturing the city."
Longstreet held the pipe in his teeth, said, "No, I expect Sam Grant is moving. Sheridan's not going to sit still either." He waved the pipe, pointed to the south.
"They know where we're going. They have to know if we reach the railroad, if we can get to Danville, they have a big problem."
Lee nodded.
"Then we cannot allow them to stop us. We must keep moving. We have a full day's march on them. Once we reach Amelia, get these men fed... all those people can do is chase us."
E COULD SEE THE COLUMNS OF BLACK SMOKE, HEAIU:) THE LOW whistle echoing through the woods, rode now up a short rise.
He could see the small buildings, the one small steeple, and out to one side, a long row of great black boxes, the freight cars of the blessed supply trains.
He had sent word specifically to Richmond, sent the wire straight to the commissary commissioners-send the rations-and there was nothing polite or formal; it was not a pleasant request. It would be the last of the supply trains to leave Richmond, the last way out before the city
A
fell into Federal hands. The food was warehoused there, had been slowly accumulated in anticipation of feeding troops that would still be stationed there. But those troops, Ewell's ragged mismatched colmand, had made the long march, six thousand men who would soon reach Amelia, Joining the rest Of the army. Lee had received no reply from the commissary people, but now he could see it for himself, saw another small engine, a belch of black smoke, coming from the northeast, slowly grinding to a halt at the small depot.
The word had passed back along the column, and as they came closer to Amelia, the men picked up the pace, kne@, that once this day's march was over, there would finally be something to eat.
Now he could hear the men moving up behind him, a low hum of voices, and he glanced back, saw them looking out at the trains, heard one man raise his hands, shout, "Praise God!" The man saw Lee, snriiJed, said, "Praise General Lee!"
Lee nodded, realized the man had no musket, was carrying nothing at all, and he wanted to say something, but the column moved past quickly, and there were more sounds, some directed toward him. But he did not hear, focused instead on the men themselves, felt his chest tighten, a smaJI cold stab in his gut. He saw that many of them had shed the weight, had made the march on empty stomachs by lightening the load. Many of his soldiers did not have muskets.
The orders were given, and the men began to fill the open fields, some finding a soft place in the thick grass, simply dropping down, ignoring the directions of the officers, the call to stack arms, to stay in line. Lee moved the horse down the rise, toward the town, saw Longstreet approaching, moving slowly up the hill, away from the small buildings. Lee rode up beside him, and Longstreet was staring at him with a deep gloom, then looked at the ground, said nothing. Lee did not stop, moved on toward the depot, saw cavalry, men on thin horses, gathering along the rail cars Lee rode up toward the tracks, saw an officer sitting on a horse, looking up at one man standing in the open doorway of the car.
The soldier did not yet see Lee, said, "Yee howdy, Captain! We got all the ammunition we're ever gonna need. And not one damned thing to eat!"
Lee moved toward the officer, and the man removed his hat, said, "General Lee! Uh, Sir... this ain't exactly what we was expectin' to find.
Lee climbed down from his horse, moved to the rail car looked at the soldier, who stared at him with wide eyes. Lee said nothing, reached up, and the man extended a hand, helped Lee into the car.
Now Lee could see the piles of boxes, the neat stacks of cloth bags, wooden crates. He took a step forward, leaned down, saw the car was packed with powder, munitions, shot and shell for the big guns. He looked at the man, said, "This is just one.... The others, there must be..."
The man was nervous now, shook his head.
"No, Sir. All like this one.
Lee felt a hot fire swell up the back of his neck, turned, jumped down from the car, staggered, and the captain was down now, stepped forward quickly to help him, but Lee straightened, held the man away. He felt sick, his stomach clenching into a hard knot, his throat clamping down hard. He walked to the next car, looked inside, saw the same cargo, one cloth sack split open, black gunpowder spread out on the wooden planks of the floor. He turned, leaned against the side of the rail
car
The cavalry officer said quietly, "You all right, sir? Can I get you something? " Lee stared ahead, said, "How are we... we cannot feed the men. They knew that... and they sent me gunpowder."
The captain said nothing, saw a horseman moving through the depot, made a quick motion to the man to come forward.
Lee did not hear the man coming, and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and Lee turned. It was Taylor, who said, "There are no rations, Sir." Lee nodded, said nothing.
Taylor was angry, said, "It is treachery, Sir! just like before.. Lee stepped away from the train, moved to the horse, climbed up, sat heavily in the saddle. He looked at the cavalry captain, said in a slow, quiet voice, "Thank you for your assistance."
The man saluted, looked at Taylor, said something Lee could not hear. Taylor moved close to the horse.
"Sir," he said, "we will send out the wagons to all the farms around here. There has to be something... the people will not deprive their army."
