by Jeff Shaara
Babcock made a short bow, said nervously, "I thought, Sir, in the town, we can find a location that is suitable."
Lee said nothing, moved toward the horses, took Traveller's reins from an aide, reached up to the saddle.
Now Longstreet was beside him, said, "Honorable terms... unless he offers us honorable terms, we can still fight it out."
Lee stared out to the west, thought, No one here knows General Grant as well as you. He climbed up to the saddle, said, "Do you believe that will be a problem?"
Longstreet thought a moment, shook his head.
"No, I don't. Sam Grant will be fair."
Lee spurred the horse, moved toward Babcock, who was climbing on his own horse. Lee glanced around, all the men now looking at him. Seeing Taylor, he said, "Colonel, I wish you and Colonel Marshall to accompany me.
Lee saw another man, recalled his face, Hill's man, the message brought to him on that awful day just a short week ago. Lee said, "Sergeant Tucker, will you accompany us as well?"
Tucker seemed shocked, said, "Yes... certainly, sir." Marshall was on his horse, and Lee saw Taylor, standing close to the apple tree. Taylor was not moving, stared down at the ground, and Lee said, "Colonel Taylor... are you ready?"
Taylor looked up at him, and Lee saw the tears. Taylor said, "Sir... please, I ask you not order me." Lee saw the pain, the sadness, in the young man who had been so close, such a part of the army, of Lee himself. Taylor sat now, his head in his hands, quiet sobs, soft sounds.
Lee watched him for a moment, fought it himself, said, "Very well. Colonel, you may remain here."
He turned the horse, nodded slowly to Babcock, and they began to move out across the field.
He could see the town in front of him, the small buildings, the courthouse. They rode out through the lines of his men, men who called out to him, as they always had, the men who never held anything from him, from the fight, from their affection for their commander. He moved through the lines, would not look at them, could not bear to see it in their faces. The sounds were enough, the cries, the sadness, the long years now suddenly closing in, the great long fight now passing, drifting out of them, the last piece of strength, the last emotion from the hearts of his men, pouring out across the field. Then the soft sounds were behind him, following him, inside, staying with him. He could not keep it away, held the sounds hard, tried not to show what it meant, the pain that was gripping him, pulling him back toward them.
He looked up, above the rooftops, looked into a vast sky, imagined the face of God, sad, forgiving... and now he saw them, the images on the clouds, the cold steel in the face of Jackson, the laughing playfulness of Stuart. They were his boys; more, they were his sons, and now the tears came, the sadness overwhelming him, the grief for a part of him that was gone forever.
5 2 GRANT
AFTERNOON, APRIL 9, 1865 H
E REACHED SHERIDAN'S LINES, RODE PAST MEN WHO HAD already heard the news. They cheered, wildly at first, but he did not respond, moved quickly, held a cigar tight in his teeth. He was still not sure, could not really know if this was not some ruse, some deception. He had run that through his mind, that for Lee's army, it was the only way, the only escape. If they catch us resting, a lapse... but he thought of the letter, the last note from Lee, had read it through the hot cloud of the awful headache that had still tormented him. The letter echoed now in his mind, the cool blessed words.
I ask for a suspension of hostilities pending the adjustment of the terms of surrender of this army... After he read it the first time, the headache suddenly vanished, the violent fist gripping the back of his neck releasing him, as if chased away by some marvelous miracle. No, he thought, it is genuine, it is not deception. I have to believe that Lee is, after all, an honorable man.
They had ridden hard, along dusty trails and hard roads, the staff trailing out in a long column. He could see flags now, turned the horse, rode toward a group of officers, men who were waiting for him. He reined the horse, saw the faces, the expectations, then he saw Sheridan.
He dismounted, and Sheridan was quickly in front of the others, saluted, said, "General Grant! We should resume the assault, sid I respectfully request that my men be allowed to finish this Job, sir!"
Grant was surprised, said, "General, did you not receive a request for cease-fire?"
Sheridan made a grunt, said, "Oh, yes, I received it. Time enough for the rebels to strengthen their position! Five minutes, Sir, five minutes, and this will be over. We have them right in front of us. The boys are itching to go. It will be short work. I guarantee it, Sir!"
Grant glanced at the other officers, saw some men with Sheridan's fire, nervous motion, but there were others, sad frowns, small glances at the ground, men who did not share Phil Sheridan's eagerness for an easy fight. Grant said, "Are they moving troops? Have they shown any signs of advance?"
Sheridan shrugged, said, "Not that we can tell. But you know how they are, Sir. Give them an opening-" Grant shook his head, put up his hand, stopped Sheridan's words, said, "General, your precautions are noted. Have you not received something from General Babcock, some word of a meeting with Lee?"
Sheridan's face now fell into a gloom.
"He is supposed to be... in the town. I didn't believe it, not sure I believe it now. But the message came for you to proceed at General Babcock's request."
Grant chewed hard on the cigar, thought, You would wait until you killed them all before you told me?
"General Sheridan, you may accompany me. That should relieve your fears about the enemy's intentions."
Grant climbed the horse, glanced at Rawlins, Porter, the others, and said, "Gentlemen, let's find General Lee."
HEY SLOWED AS THEY MOVED PAST THE HOUSES, THE SMALL buildings, storefronts. Along the hill in front of him, he could see the solid blue line, the sun reflecting off the bayonets, the men spread far out around the town. In the shallow valley below, he could see a line of rebels, and behind, the mass of dull gray, wagons, guns, all that was left of Lee's army. He heard Sheridan behind him, small comments, thought, Yes, five minutes, and the blood would be on our hands for all time.
He saw a man, ahead, waving, the clean blue uniform of an orderly, the man saluting now. Grant reined the horse, the men behind him slowing, the horses bunching up. The man was nervous, saluted again, seemed suddenly overcome, stared open-mouthed at the collective power of the men on the horses.
Grant said, "What is it, son?" The man pointed, a house to the side of the road, a pleasant brick home, two-story, a small open yard, said, "There, Sir! I am instructed to direct you... there!"
Grant saw three horses now, riderless, beside the house, and a man holding the reins, wearing a ragged gray uniform, a sergeant. He rode into the yard, dismounted, suddenly felt his hands sweating, looked at the front entrance of the house. It was quiet, with no one guarding the door. He stepped forward, reached the steps, stopped for a moment, turned, looked at the men behind him, thought, maybe... I should go alone, but no, it does not matter. They have earned it. This is something we will tell our children about. Say something to them, he thought, keep it dignified, quiet. But he saw the faces, and no one was smiling. He scanned the solemn faces, the weight of the moment keeping them all quiet, and even Sheridan removed his hat now. Grant turned, walked slowly up the steps, the sound of his boots echoing through the quiet of the house.
He passed through the door and into a hallway, did not walt He saw Babcock off to the left, a warm room, dark, and Grant moved to the doorway, stopped, looked at three men, all standing, waiting for him.
Babcock saluted, and Grant nodded, returned it with reflex. Then he straightened, removed his hat, stepped slowly into the room. He could not help but stare at the calm dignity, the grace, of the man in the gray uniform facing him, straight and tall, the white beard not quite hiding the firm jaw, the dark weariness in the man's eyes.
Babcock said quietly, "Sir... General Grant, may I present... General Robert E. Lee."
He moved closer, held out a hand, said, "General Lee, thank you for meeting with me."
Lee did not smile, took the hand, a brief, firm grip, said, "General Grant, it is my duty... to be here."
Grant heard footsteps behind him, saw officers slowly filling the room, lining up along the wall. Lee glanced at them, and Grant thought, Familiar faces, surely he knows some of them. He looked now at Lee's aide, a young thin man in small round spectacles.
Lee caught the look, said, "General, may I present Colonel Charles Marshall."
Grant nodded, and Marshall made a short bow, said quietly, barely audible, "Sir."
The room was quiet again, the officers now still, and Grant began to realize what he was wearing. He glanced down, saw the mud on the boots, the dust on his clothes, was suddenly embarrassed, wanted to say something, realized he still held the cigar in his teeth. He slowly raised his hand, removed the cigar, said, "I hope you will forgive my appearance. I have ridden all morning to get here. There has not been time to change.... I'm not even certain where my trunk is, at the moment." He tried to be casual, relieve the tension, the quiet strain in the room, but no one spoke.
Lee simply nodded, said, "Quite all right, Sir." Grant could not take his eyes from Lee now, began to feel a growing sadness, did not know what to expect, thought, How would we ever know? We will never be in this position again. Lee's face still was hard, firm, and Grant looked for something, some sign, but could see now, thought, No, he will give nothing, he is holding it all in. Is this his way? Or perhaps he believes this is what men must do, something about gentlemen. Grant's mind was beginning to move now, a swirl of frustration.
"General Lee, I recall seeing you in Mexico. Perhaps you remember me? I was with the Fourth Infantry, a captain."
Lee shook his head slowly, said, "No, I don't recall. The Fourth... good unit. They were all good."
Grant thought, Of course, how would he know me? How many officers did he meet? He was General Scott's chief of staff.
"Yes, all good men. It was a good fight. General Scott was, um..." He ran out of words now, frustrated again. What can I say to him about General Scott that he does not know? He glanced around, saw his men watching him, was impatient now, thought, I have never done well at this sort of thing, not even with Lincoln.
Lee now looked to the side, focused on a small oval table, said, "Perhaps, General, we should discuss the matter at hand. I have come to meet you in accordance of my letter this morning, to treat about the surrender of my army. I think the best way would be for you to put your terms in writing."
Grant nodded, scanned the faces, saw Ely Parker, his secretary, a pad of paper, an order book emerging from the young man's blue coat. He felt relieved now, the small talk was past, and he said, "Yes, I believe I will."
Grant moved to a small table, sat, put the cigar in his mouth, stared at the blank paper in front of him. There was quiet motion behind him, and a pencil was placed on the table. Grant picked it up, THE LAST FULL MEASURE 501 gripped it hard, stared again at blank paper, thought... words. I am not good with words. What is it we want? Then, tell him. He suddenly began to write, did not think, felt his mind pouring out on the pages. He kept writing, the only sound in the room the scratching of pencil on paper. He paused again, saw Lee quietly moving across the room, sitting now at the oval table. Lee's sword bumped the floor, and Grant stared at it, thought, Yes, there will be none of that, the stuff of newspaper stories, the ridiculous dramatics of handing over the swords. He wrote again, another page, then stopped, glanced back at Parker, who stood close behind him.
Parker leaned forward, and Grant held up the book. Parker read quietly, pointed to a word, and Grant frowned, of course, spelling too.
He scratched at the word, corrected himself. Parker made a silent nod, and Grant put the book down flat again, took a deep breath. Then he stood, with the book, moved across the room and handed it to Lee.
Lee put the book on the small table, pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket, wiped them slowly with a handkerchief.
Grant stepped away, nervous again, felt like a student, his words put before the grim judgment of the professor. He scolded himself, It's fine, its simple, and it's what I want. He is taking his time, of course, give him a moment.
Lee now raised the book slightly off the table, and read.
Headquarters, Armies of the United States Appomattox Court House, Va." April 9, 1865 General R. E. Lee, Commanding C. S. Army General: In accordance with the substance of my letter to you on the 8th instant, I propose to receive the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia on the following terms, to Wit:
Rolls of all the officers and men to be made in duplicate one copy to be given to an officer to be designated by me, the other to be retained by such officer or officers as you may designate; the officer to give their individual paroles not to take up arms against the Government of the United States until properly exchanged, and each company or regimental commander to sign a like parole for the men of his command. The arms, artillery and public property are to be parked and stacked, and turned over to the officers appointed by me to receive them. This will not embrace the side-arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage.
This done, officers and men will be allowed to return to their homes, not to be disturbed by United States authority so long as they observe their paroles and the laws in force where they may reside.
Very Respectfully, U. S. Grant, Lieutenant-General Lee nodded slowly, said, "Your concern for the dignity of the officers, their private property... this will have a positive effect on the " Lee paused, hesitant, then said, "I must mention... in our army. army, the cavalry and artillery men own their own horses. May I request... that they be allowed to retain their animals?"
Our army, Grant thought. He must still believe that-that we are not one country. He said, "Under the terms as I have written them, no, they may not."
Lee looked down, and Grant saw the first emotion, Lee closing his eyes, a small glimpse of sadness. Grant watched him straighten, could see Lee fighting himself, holding the calm.
Grant thought, How important is that after all? Those men will go home now, back to the small farms, the land they will need to work to survive. He said, "I suppose it will be acceptable. I will instruct my officers to allow any man who claims a horse or mule to be allowed to keep it."
Lee looked at him with tired relief, said, "That is very kind of you, Sir. It is planting season, and these men will need their horses." Lee paused, looked down at the book, said, "It will no doubt... be a long winter for many of them."
Lee handed the book to Grant, who turned, gave it to Parker and said, "Colonel, you may copy this in ink."
Officers now were moving outside, some leaving the room. Faces appeared in the doorway, briefly, and were gone. Now new faces appeared, to catch a quick glimpse of Lee, of the event in this modest house.
Grant reached for a chair, pulled it closer to Lee, sat now, said quietly, "General... I am aware of the lack of supply... of the difficult situation your men may be in. May I offer to assist?"
Lee straightened in the chair, nodded slowly, said, "Your cavalry has been most efficient. We have not had rations for... some time."
"If I may ask, General, how many rations would you require?"
Lee shook his head, and Grant saw the eyes close again. Lee said, "I am not entirely certain. Twenty-five thousand perhaps."
Grant turned, looked at Sheridan, said, "General, can you provide twenty-five thousand rations to General Lee's men)" Sheridan seemed surprised, said, "Twenty-five thousand? That many? Why do they need-" Grant glared a 1 ime.
t h* m. This 15 not the t * 1 id, "Uh... yes, Sir. It S
heridan absorbed the silent message, sal I is not a problem. We will make the arrangements."
Grant said nothing, turned to Lee, and Lee now looked up at Marshall, who still stood close behind him. Lee said, "Colonel, you may prepare a response to General Grant's letter."
Marshall sat now, pulled a pad of paper from his pocket, wrote a few lines. Grant waited as Lee read the words and said, "Colonel, it is not necessary to say J have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of such a date." He is right here. just say, I accept these terms."
Grant wanted to smile, but there was tension in Lee's voice, the guard coming down just a bit. Marshall wrote again, and Lee scanned the letter, then slowly handed it to Grant.
Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia April 9, 1865 Lieut.-Gen. U. S. Grant, Commanding Armies of the United States General: I have received your letter of this date containing the terms of surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia as proposed by you. As they are substantially the same as those expressed in the letter of the 8th instant, they are accepted. I will proceed to designate the proper officers to carry the stipulations into effect.
