Gone for Soldiers

by Jeff Shaara

  The ground shook with the impact of the incoming shells. Lee watched as more troops moved up the trail his men had made, the workers still crouching low in the rocks. Far back on the trail he saw horses trotting past the troops, and rolling and bouncing behind them, the field guns, the smaller cannon that had been sent along with Pillow’s troops. He could still feel his heart pounding his chest, his breath coming now in fast sharp gasps. He pulled himself up, peered out over the rocks, and the ground under him jumped again. He thought of General Scott, the maps, the strategy, his strategy, thought, my God … it has begun.

  AUGUST NINETEENTH, LATE AFTERNOON

  The troops continued to come forward, Pillow’s division spreading out on either side of the big hill, some of Twiggs’s units joining them, forming a strong line of muskets. But there was no enemy to fire at, no advance of troops from the Mexican position, but still the shelling from the Mexican guns continued.

  Lee stood with Riley again, near the base of the big hill, protected by a small rock pile. He watched Pillow glancing about anxiously, looking quickly up over the taller rocks, flinching with each blast of the incoming shells. More officers were gathering, and Lee thought, Not too close. Probably not the best place for a meeting. One shell could do some serious damage to the command.

  Pillow looked past Lee, toward the east, said, “Is General Twiggs on the field? Have we heard from General Twiggs?”

  There were glances, officers understanding now that Pillow might not be the best commander to have in this situation. Riley said, “Sir, with all respect, my orders from General Twiggs were clear. Find the enemy and engage him.”

  There were nods, a few muttered comments, and Lee watched the others, thought, They support General Pillow, they want him to do the right thing. He felt an odd sympathy for Pillow. He probably never thought … had no idea what a division commander might have to do. But he has good men under him. Lee saw a flag as another of Pillow’s brigades moved forward through the rocks. The flagstaff was held high by a compact man with glasses, and he stepped up beyond the small clearing, moved to the base of the hill, while the troops filed past. Another officer appeared, climbing into the clearing, and Pillow seemed to jump in that direction, said, “General Cadwalader, thank God … you made it. We were just considering our situation.”

  Cadwalader glanced at the others, looked curiously at Lee, said, “Captain, did General Scott instruct you what to do once the shooting started?”

  It was a strange question, and Lee tried to read the man’s face, saw only the grim stare of another veteran. “No, sir. I was able to scout the forward position; however, we could only go so far as the ravine. It is not likely we can cross straight in front of us, sir. The Mexican artillery commands the ground.”

  Cadwalader stepped forward, moved past Pillow, looked up over the rocks. A shattering blast just behind the officers showered them with rock. Lee put his hands on his eyes, felt the fragments of rock, blinked hard, wiped at his face.

  Cadwalader waved his arms toward his staff, shouted, “The flag, you idiot! Lower the flag! You’re giving them a target!”

  Lee heard a faint apology, saw the brigade flag disappear behind the rocks.

  Cadwalader said, “This is not a damned parade.”

  Lee tried to focus his watery eyes. The others brushed off the dust, hats slapping pant legs. All along the line the incoming shells were still thundering, blowing gaps in the larger rocks, showering the crouching troops with gray dust. He could hear another strange sound, a hollow clang, the solid shot bouncing and careening through the rocks. They had always been able to see the shells as they came toward them, the slower flight of the Mexican copper, but there had never been cover like this. The shells impacted and then bounced up at odd angles, ricocheting through the jagged lava, some finding the man who sat behind a fat rock he believed was protecting him.

  He could see the wounded being carried back now, still heard the screams of the men when the shells found their target. Pillow was staring toward the rear, and Lee looked that way, saw a man carried past with no legs. He felt his stomach turn and looked away, heard Pillow say, “My God …”

  There was a new sound now, a sharp clatter of wheels, erasing the horrible image, and Lee saw a horse pulling a field gun, the gun crew riding close behind on more horses, a small caisson. The men quickly dismounted, unhitched the gun, spun it around. Lee saw an officer, a tall thick man, bearing red stripes on a perfect uniform.

  The man yelled, “Here, behind these rocks! Aim between them!” The gun rattled into place, the men digging furiously to level the wheels.

  The commanders were all watching, and Pillow said, “Thank God. Now, we’ll make a fight.”

  Riley moved up behind Lee, said, “Captain, I would suggest you supervise the gun positions. You’re the engineer. Make sure they are in the right location.”

  Lee saluted Riley, said, “Yes, sir. Right away.”

  Lee moved slowly toward the gun, admiring how the men’s training was coming to life, the precise efficiency of their movements. An officer quickly came toward him, glanced at Lee’s rank, moved past, obviously looking for someone with greater authority. Lee watched him climb toward the group of commanders, saw him look briefly at each one, appraising, then he saluted toward Pillow, said, “Captain John Magruder, at your service, sir. We have three more guns moving up. And, I believe, two more batteries are coming forward as well. With your permission, sir, we will begin firing at will.”

  Pillow returned the salute, and Lee watched him focus, holding himself together before speaking. “Proceed, Captain. Knock those fellows out over there.”

  Magruder’s smile was wide. “Count on it, sir. We’ll give ’em hell!”

  Magruder moved quickly past Lee, who followed, thinking, Observe, Captain. He knows his job as well as anyone in the army. He followed Magruder back to the gun, and now other horses were moving up, the other guns rolling forward. Lee saw another officer leading the way, younger, familiar, the face of Johnston’s nephew. The young man saw Lee, nodded quickly, his expression stern. Lee thought, Let him be. It is his time.

  Magruder barked a command, pointed down below the trail toward another small flat space, and the young lieutenant turned the horse, his crew following closely, pulling the gun that way.

  Lee moved through the rocks until he reached Magruder’s gun. The barrel was positioned just behind a shelf of rock. Yes, he thought, they do know what they’re doing. Magruder barked a new command, and the gun crew backed away, one man holding a lanyard, and the gun burst into life in a roar of flame and smoke. Lee felt a sharp pain stab his ears, put his hands up to cover them, thought, Pay attention, Captain. No surprises. He saw Magruder staring out with glasses now, observing, and Magruder yelled something again, and quickly the gun crew swarmed over the gun, then moved away, and the gun fired again.

  Lee shook his head, tried to clear his ears of the fierce ringing. He moved toward the other guns. They were already un-limbered, rolling up close to the larger rocks, the men again scrambling to place them in good cover. He saw the young lieutenant again, giving the commands to his men, placing one gun behind another gap in the rocks. Lee moved close, stayed well behind the gun, could see the angle, the line of fire, looked straight down the barrel, thought, Fine, good elevation. The young man did not see him, and Lee moved away to the next gun, where he saw another officer, another familiar face. The man stood stiffly behind his gun, and Lee paused, thought, Yes, too familiar.

  He moved up behind the young man, said, “Excuse me, Lieutenant. We have met before?”

  The man spun around, seemed hard at attention, saluted Lee, said, “Lieutenant Jackson, sir. I served with Captain Taylor’s battery at Vera Cruz.”

  The accent was unmistakable, the Virginia mountains, and Lee remembered now, the awkward man with the sharp blue eyes.

  “Yes, of course, Lieutenant.” Lee wanted to say something more, something about the good work at Vera Cruz, but Jackson was alr
eady far away, seemed impatient standing in one place. Lee said, “Please, do not let me interfere.…”

  Jackson turned quickly, and the crew seemed to wait for the moment, and suddenly the gun fired, and again Lee was late putting his hands on his ears.

  Now all of Magruder’s battery was in place, and the men began to find a rhythm, the four guns opening in a rapid sequence. Lee backed away, moved through the thick lines of men in blue, all down low in the rocks. He stopped beside one man, and could see the streak of blue coming overhead. He covered his ears, the movement nearly instinctive now. The shell exploded a few yards behind them. The man seemed to moan, and Lee said, “Don’t worry soldier. Stay low.” He looked up to where the officers had gathered, thought, We cannot stay here. We don’t have the firepower. We cannot duel the enemy like this.

  He waited for a pause in the screaming of the shells before moving quickly out of the rocks. He saw the gruff Magruder again, moved up behind him, covered his ears again as the guns fired another volley.

  “Captain Magruder, can you tell … have you inflicted any damage?”

  Magruder stared at Lee with black fire, said nothing, turned again to his guns. Lee was suddenly angry, had no patience for stubborn commanders, shouted, “Captain Magruder, you will cease fire! By order of Captain Lee!”

  The crews looked at him curiously, and Lee saw Magruder’s face darken, thought, He’s going to explode. Keep your tongue, Mr. Magruder. This job is too important for one man’s pride. The guns fell silent, and Lee moved between the two closest to Magruder. He climbed up and raised his glasses. He stared out at the wide field of smoke, could still see the flashes of light from the Mexican guns, new streaks of fire coming toward the rocks.

  He looked back at Magruder, said, “No, Captain, there is little damage. With all respect, these guns are not big enough. This is not going to work.”

  Lee backed away, and Magruder moved close to him, said angrily, “I have been ordered to eliminate the enemy’s artillery! These guns will perform as I tell them to perform! Give us time, Captain. We will find the range.”

  “The enemy will find the range as well. And they have two dozen guns. With respect, Captain, this is not a fight we can win.”

  Magruder stared at him, tried to say something, and Lee still felt the other man’s anger, thought, There is no time for an argument. The crews were watching them still, and Magruder turned abruptly, shouted, “Resume firing!”

  There was no delay, and Lee covered his ears again, thought, I cannot tell them to stop. He’s right, he has his orders. There is nothing for me to say. But it will not take the enemy long to find the range.

  He heard the odd metallic thud again, turned, saw a streak of blue light, the ball now bouncing straight up in the air, bounding high above Magruder’s gun, a strange twirl of round blue fire. He could see it begin to come down, falling toward the next gun, right into the gun crew, spinning to the side, bouncing off toward the troops behind him. Next there came a scream, the awful sound, and Lee saw one man on the ground, the crew moving low around him, pulling him away from the gun. One of the man’s legs was gone, the ball cutting it clean away. Lee felt his gut turn cold, moved beside the soldiers as they carried the wounded gunner behind the lines. The man was still screaming, staring up wide-eyed. He looked straight at Lee, and Lee felt his throat tighten into a hard knot, saw the face of the young lieutenant. It was Preston Johnston.

  Lee said, “My God … Lieutenant … no …”

  The young man stared at him, but his eyes were empty now, and the screaming had stopped. Lee could not look away, stared through rising nausea. The young man’s mouth still hung open, but no sounds came out. The mouth twitched once, making the final faint utterance no one would hear. Lee wanted to move close to him, felt a desperate wave of panic. For a brief moment he could not move, his legs seemingly paralyzed, locking him in place. Then the young man was taken away, the other men quickly disappearing behind the rocks. Lee stared in the direction the litter bearers had gone for a long moment, but he could only see the face of his friend, what this would do to him. I will have to tell him, he thought. He will want to know I was here. Oh, God, Joe. I am so sorry. The crew was already moving forward again, returning to their gun, and he still looked to the rear, said in a quiet voice, “God bless you, young man.”

  He felt a sudden blast of wind, another shattering explosion, the rain of dirt and small rock pelting him. He tried to concentrate, brushed the dirt away, and Magruder’s guns fired. The sound jolted Lee, and he fought now to bring himself back, thought, Your job, Captain. There is not time for this.

  He moved back toward the gun, thought, They do not have an officer to lead them. Perhaps I should—

  He stopped, saw the crew swarming around their gun, while another officer rushed past a pile of rock, moving toward the gun, and Lee saw it was Jackson, the young man taking command. The men did not even look at their new officer, but heard his words, worked the gun as they had before, and now the rhythm was complete again, the guns firing in perfect sequence. Lee moved away, thought, Of course, it has to be that way. Fill the gap, plug the hole. A good officer knows that. That young man is a good officer.

  He worked his way back toward the big hill, thought, Back to work, Captain. Find the commanders, find General Pillow.

  They seemed to be waiting for him, having moved to another flat open area, farther behind the big hill, a place safe from the enemy guns. Most of the men were seated now, scattered around on the smaller rocks.

  Pillow suddenly stood and said, “Captain Lee. You have seen the ravine. Is it possible to advance in that direction?”

  Lee saluted absently, still felt a cold sickness in his gut. “It is better than just sitting here.”

  The other men all looked at him, and a moment of silence passed. Lee pulled himself up straight, thought, Get hold of yourself, Captain.

  “My apologies, sir. The ravine is in fact a deep streambed. It is very thick with underbrush. From what I could see, and hear, the stream itself is swift, possibly deep.” He glanced at Cadwalader. “A crossing straight into the enemy’s guns would be inadvisable. Their artillery controls the ground. As they control it … here.”

  Pillow looked at Riley, said, “Captain Lee agrees with your assessment, Colonel. I cannot find fault with the logic. And since Captain Lee possesses the eyes of General Scott, I would ask his endorsement of the plan.”

  Lee felt uneasy, could feel the stain of Pillow’s politics.

  Riley stood and said, “Very well, Captain. Since you have scouted this lava field, would you agree that it is possible to move up to the north, and cross the ravine far beyond the enemy’s left flank? I propose we send at least two brigades. If we occupy the ground across that road, the enemy forces will be cut off from Mexico City, and if we make enough noise, they most likely will abandon their ground.”

  Lee looked at Pillow, saw that the general was as nervous as a schoolboy. Cadwalader said, “Captain Lee may be impertinent, but he is correct. We cannot remain where we are. It will be dark very soon. My men are ready to make the move.”

  Lee felt awkward, thought, It cannot be decided by … me. I have no authority to order an advance. General Scott would … what? Attack? We don’t know what’s over there, across that road. If reinforcements should come down from the city, we could be trapped. He thought of Twiggs, knew the old commander was advancing behind them, probably close by now, bringing more of his men forward. If Twiggs were here there would be no waiting. And this time, he might be right.

  “Sirs, I believe General Scott’s instructions were for me to locate a means of assaulting the enemy from this direction. Since we have found the enemy, I believe the general would disapprove of … inaction.”

  Pillow exhaled loudly, and Riley said, “General Pillow, with your permission, my men will file out to the north, followed by General Cadwalader’s brigade. We can cross the ravine at a safe distance above the enemy’s position. By tomorrow morning �
��”

  He paused, and Cadwalader said, “By tomorrow morning, General Scott will be pleased.”

  19. LEE

  AUGUST NINETEENTH, NIGHT

  NO ONE HAD NOTICED THE HEAVY CLOUDS THAT ROLLED TOWARD them, blocking out the usual sunset, the last great glow of orange from behind the tall mountains. As the early darkness put a blessed stop to the artillery fire, the once heavy line of blue that faced the Mexican position was a small part of what it had been. The two brigades under the command of Riley and Cadwalader were away to the north, had marched quickly and quietly out of the lava field, then cut and pushed their way across the wet ravine. As the darkness pressed hard on the field, nearly two thousand men had moved across the valuable road and settled into a quiet camp a half mile north of the Mexican position.

  The scouts and the commanders had hoped to see the stars, some piece of a bright moon to guide them into the best position for the morning assault. But the clouds had brought the wind, and soon after, a hard, steady rain.

  Lee was still in the small clearing behind the big hill. He had tried to find something in the rocks he could use for shelter, but finally gave up. Every part of him was wet. He discovered that standing was more comfortable than sitting on wet rock. The muffled sound of horses moving through the gloom made him feel no less miserable. A small speck of light appeared ahead of him, one man on foot, walking in front of the horses, holding an oil lamp low to the ground. Lee wiped at his face, blew water through his mustache, saw the wide dark form, the shadow of General Scott.

  Scott dismounted, said, “Kill the light.”

  The lantern went dark, and Scott moved up toward Lee’s clearing, said, “Here, if this is the place, put the damned tent here. Quickly.”

  The men behind him moved forward, scrambled to unroll the dull canvas. Men began to gather, Pillow’s officers, and Scott said, “Anyone here seen Captain Lee?”