by Jeff Shaara
Lee shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what God expects from us. But if you are happy charging into musket fire … and God has anointed you with a talent for avoiding mortal wounds … then, by all means, it sounds like you’ve found your calling. I just hope God doesn’t change His mind without telling you.”
Johnston looked at him, surprised. “Humor? From Captain Lee? God works in mysterious ways. Well, I should have my chance to find out. There’s still quite a bit of guerrilla activity. Rumor has it that Santa Anna himself is still leading troops, is making a move toward Puebla again, hopes to cut us off from the coast.”
Lee nodded. “Heard that, yes. There’s a column of troops coming from Vera Cruz, reinforcements. From what I hear, General Twiggs is preparing to go east, take command. If there’s a fight, if things get hot again, this war could be a long way from over. It puts a lot of pressure on those people doing the negotiating. Makes it so important to get the treaty signed.”
A quiet moment passed before Johnston said, “So how about you? You still going to stay with the engineers?”
“Certainly. It’s what I’m comfortable with. I’ve already been assigned to do some mapmaking, prepare some detailed sketches of the valley. I might be here for a while yet.”
“Comfortable? I’m not convinced, Robert. There’s more to a man’s career than settling for something that makes him comfortable. What about challenge? What about the unknown?”
Lee did not answer, thought now of Henry Hunt, the lone cannon in front of San Cosme, one man’s assault that opened the hole. Hunt survived, was considered a hero, and Lee had wondered about that, how Hunt felt now, what had changed.
“I’m ready for whatever task God assigns me. If it is in His plan for me to lead troops, or charge some enemy somewhere, then I will obey the calling. You can’t decide in advance what you are meant to do. It may be that I’m meant to be an engineer. Mapmaking can be interesting.”
Johnston stared at him for a moment. “If you say so, Robert. How long you figure to be here? Word is, the infantry will occupy all the outposts between here and the coast, secure the route, get rid of as much guerrilla activity as we can. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of months. Once we have a treaty, most of us … maybe all of us can go home.”
“I hope to finish my work by then, but I don’t know. General Scott was most insistent on detailed topography of the valley. It might take three or four months to complete.”
“You don’t sound too sad about that. You may be the only man in the army who isn’t chewing nails to leave here. Peace means boredom. Especially for us men of action.”
Lee smiled, but there was something serious in Johnston’s eyes, something beyond Johnston’s good mood. Lee waited a moment before asking, “What about Preston? Have you made the arrangements yet?”
Johnston’s smile faded. “Working on it. As soon as I get orders to move to the coast, I’ll have his body shipped with the supply wagons. He should be buried in Virginia.” He stopped, looked toward the window.
Lee said, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Johnston continued to stare away for a moment, then looked at him, pushed the sadness away, sat up. “You seen my hat? Had to get a new feather, somebody sat on the old one.”
Lee focused on the uniform again. “Why are you so formally dressed? Is there a reception?”
Johnston looked at him, puzzled. “As a matter of fact, Robert, there is. If anyone should know that, it should be you. General Scott is toasting the officers tonight, the grand ballroom of the palace.”
Lee jumped to his feet. “That’s tonight? Now?”
A broad smile split Johnston’s face. “I was wondering where you were all day. Everybody around here’s been preening and feathering and blowing themselves up like balloons, all hoping to catch the general’s eye. Not that it should matter to you. You’ve already made your impression. But you should attend.”
Lee felt a small panic. “Yes, of course. I had intended to. I lost track of time. The work …”
Johnston walked over to the window, limping slightly. “You better get moving. There’s already a crowd gathering in the plaza.”
The sounds of voices, calls of greeting, laughter, came in through the window.
“Yes, won’t take me long. I’ll see you there.”
Johnston was staring out the window, waved now to someone below, and Lee backed away, moved into the hall. He opened the door to his room, moved into musty darkness, then pulled open the window and looked out. He saw clusters of blue, small groups of officers talking, gesturing. Men were moving quickly, joining their friends, and Lee watched the faces, so many familiar now, saw many of the younger men, the junior officers, thought, No, they’re not so young anymore. He saw one man approach a group of his friends, and the hands went up, and he heard the men all saying the same thing: “Major!”
The word was exaggerated, and Lee smiled. Promotions. There are a great many promotions now. He backed away from the window, thought, They deserve it, certainly, all of them. Maybe even you. He put that out of his mind, thought, No, this is not a time to flatter yourself. Do not concern yourself with personal achievement. He could hear the voices again, the celebration, felt a small shadow of guilt. You have no right to fantasize, to daydream about your own glory. Your place is already chosen. Your only responsibility is to do the job you are given. He thought of Johnston, the satisfaction at his new command, leading men into battle, thought of Magruder, Hunt, the artillerymen so possessive of their guns. God has opened up their future, shown them a path to follow. Not all of us are destined to have such adventure. Some of us must … draw maps.
He felt a small wave of depression, pushed it away, looked for some distraction, put his hand on the letter to Mary he had begun the night before. I should finish this tonight, he thought. Maybe in the next few days, we will finally be able to send the mail. So many letters, so many experiences waiting to be told.
He put the letter in a small drawer, closed it, looked again in the mirror, saw his rough beard, the accumulated dirt of the many days in the countryside. The voices outside were fading, the men beginning to move away, the spirit of the party flowing toward the grand palace.
* * *
HE HAD DONE THE BEST HE COULD WITH THE UNIFORM, COULD not scrub away all the stains, a stubborn smear of dirt on the white pants, the dust of the campaign finding its way inside his trunk. He had put the hat on carefully, the final step, posed for the mirror, appraising, frowning, could not help feeling sloppy. He had even considered staying away, spending the evening by himself, finishing the letter to Mary. But the image of General Scott would not leave him, and he knew, sloppy or not, he would be expected.
He stood now in the entranceway to the great ballroom, the noise of the men rolling over him, loud talk, friendship, relief, joyous congratulations, all the emotions letting loose from men who share the bond, share the experience of the great fight. He waited, watched them, could see the stains on the dress uniforms, many worse than his, and there was no mention, no one seemed to care. He glanced down, shook his head, thought, What does it matter? What matters is the men who are here, who brought this army to this place. That’s the point of this whole evening, for General Scott to acknowledge them, to shake their hands, all of them.
He stepped into the room, saw men holding glasses of wine, cigar smoke rising in great clouds, the voices loud all around him. He moved past one circle of men, saw Magruder, surrounded by men with the red in their uniforms, the artillerymen. Magruder noticed him, nodded, gave him a friendly smile, and Lee nodded as well. He saw then the young lieutenant, the strange man from the mountains, Jackson, who did not look at him, seemed awkward, uncomfortable. Lee could hear the comments, all directed at Jackson, and one man said, “This poor chap could not find one quiet place to hide in this entire war! He couldn’t help but be promoted. The Mexicans wouldn’t leave him alone!”
There was laughter, a
hand slapping Jackson’s back, and the young man continued to frown, red-faced, staring at the floor. Magruder said, “He gets any more brevets, he’ll outrank me! Hell, he stays here long enough, he’ll outrank General Scott!”
Lee moved away from the new burst of laughter, could see to the front of the room, a wide platform, chairs arranged in a neat row. He moved that way, thought, The chairs might be for the general staff. I suppose they expect me … up there. He searched the crowd, looked for Johnston, saw more familiar faces. Moving close to the platform, he saw the young Scott stepping up on the far end, moving unsteadily to a chair. Lee climbed up as well, moved across the platform, close to the young man, said, “Good evening, Major. Do you wish me to sit up here?”
The young man looked at him, his face flushed, and waved an arm absently. “Sit wherever you like, Captain. No one will chase you away.”
Lee backed away, thought, He is … intoxicated. He looked away, did not want to see this, not tonight. He saw other members of the general staff moving up, climbing the short steps, Colonel Hitchcock, Scott’s Inspector General, followed by two more men. Lee moved to a chair, sat, looked out over the great crowd of officers, the room a haze of cigar smoke. He saw movement in the crowd, men parting, making a path, saw General Twiggs now, moving to the platform.
Twiggs climbed up, said, “I suppose generals are allowed up here.”
Lee moved to the end of the row of chairs, watched Pillow and Worth, the two men smiling, exchanging brief greetings with the officers. Pillow stepped up on the platform, looked at Twiggs, gave him a polite nod that Twiggs seemed to ignore. Pillow looked down the row, moved toward the staff, held out his hand to greet each of them.
He stopped in front of Lee, and Lee took the offered hand, but Pillow did not look at him. “Wonderful event, Captain Lee, wonderful.”
Pillow was past him then, using the same words as he moved down the line until he took his seat as well. Lee looked down to the end of the platform where Worth, sitting now, was saying something to Twiggs, who tried to ignore him as well. Lee watched their faces, the two men falling silent, stoic, staring out at their officers, waiting patiently for the duty, the formality, of the evening to begin.
Lee let his eyes drift over the crowd, searched for Johnston again. He focused on the entranceway, saw guards stepping crisply into the room, standing at attention on each side of the door. The room began to quiet, heads turning, and Lee thought, Time to stand up. The men on both sides of him stood as well, and now he saw Scott, filling the entrance, the feather from the tall hat brushing the top of the doorway. One of the guards shouted out, “Atten … shun!”
The room was silent, and Scott began to move through the path opening in the crowd. Lee watched him come, saw the uniform, perfect, the medals on Scott’s chest arranged in marvelous display, the long sword hanging stiffly by his side. Lee could see the quiet pride on the old man’s face, the glow of respect from the men around him, the reverent silence as he passed by. Lee’s throat tightened and he thought, My God, he looks … magnificent. How could any of us believe this night would be ours? This is for him. We will remember him long after he has forgotten us.
Scott reached the platform, moved slowly, heavily, up the steps. He stood and faced his staff, the commanders, the men standing stiffly in a neat row before him. Scott nodded, smiled, looked into the face of each man, and Lee waited for it, saw Scott now looking at him, saw a smile, then Scott was past him, moving toward the end of the row. The greetings complete, Scott turned, faced the room, said aloud, “At ease, gentlemen! This is a party, not an inspection!”
The sounds began to flow through the room again, men gathering at one end of the room, wine being poured, great trays of food. Lee was suddenly very hungry, thought, Should have gone there first. But not now. You’ll have to wait. He saw a waiter, a young soldier in a neat white uniform, and the man held a tray of wineglasses as he stepped up to the platform. The officers reached out, each man removing a glass, and the waiter passed by Lee, who shook his head, no. Scott took a glass, looked at Lee. “Temperance is a virtue, Mr. Lee. However, quenching thirst is a necessity.”
Scott drank from the glass, emptied it, handed it to the young man, turned to the room again, stood quietly, waited for the return of their attention. Lee watched the crowd, saw the men closest to the platform turning to face Scott, the talk growing quiet again. Scott held up his hands, the talk fading, and he waited for a moment, until the room was silent.
“Gentlemen, there will be no speeches, no politics, no long-winded blather. I would like each of you to move up here in line, a reception line. I will shake your hands, every one of you. Many of you … I do not know your names. Please forgive me. I expect to hear you introduce yourself. No one in this room should leave here without my hearing his name.”
Scott stepped back, close to Lee, and the staff all stood now, lined up on either side of Scott. Lee moved forward, was next to Scott, thought, No, this is not right. I should be down the line. This does not look good.
He glanced to the side, saw the young Scott looking at him, standing unsteadily, moving behind the line of men, and Lee stepped back, whispered, “Major, here. Stand here.”
The young man looked at him, said, “He would prefer … you.…”
Lee stared to the front, thought, This is not the time, and moved to the side, made a space between him and Scott.
He felt the young man move in beside him, and the young man whispered, “You’re a kind man, Captain.”
Scott now motioned toward the room, waved them forward, and the officers began to fall in line. The first man stepped up, moved slowly, awkwardly, down the line, took the hands of each of the command staff. He stopped in front of Scott, snapped a salute, said, “Lieutenant Landers Grey, sir. Sixth Infantry.”
Scott repeated the man’s name, and the line began to flow past now, developing a slow rhythm, the good order of men who understand order. Lee shook their hands, felt their hard grip, soon felt his own hand beginning to ache, thought, This is for politicians. I still have to hold a pencil.
The line moved past, some men making the brief nod, the men Scott recognized, others waiting to see if he would remember them from a chance meeting, some event, some command he’d issued. When the silent moment told them Scott did not recall them, the men would give their names, salute him, their pride slightly bruised. Others did not wait for recognition, would not chance embarrassing the commander. They gave their names when everyone knew the names were familiar, and Lee enjoyed hearing some of the senior officers make their own introductions, Bennett Riley, Persifor Smith, men whose confidence did not require a boost from Scott.
As the line passed and the men left the platform, the crowd at the wine bottles grew and the sounds from beyond the platform became more festive. Lee still shook the hands, felt a dull tingling in his right hand, could still hear Scott speaking to each man, making some comment, something the man would take home. Lee saw Magruder, the group of artillerymen following behind him, and Magruder said to Lee, “You may check my aim any time, Captain!”
Lee smiled, and Magruder moved to Scott, exchanging more comments. Lee saw the young Jackson now, the man stiff and formal, the eyes staring straight ahead. Lee took the hand, and just as quickly the hand was gone, Jackson’s eyes staring through him, moving past him now. Jackson reached Scott, said, “Brevet Major Thomas J. Jackson, sir. Magruder’s battery.”
A silent moment passed. Scott suddenly dropped his hand, left Jackson’s hand in the air, said, “I don’t know if I will shake hands with Mr. Jackson!”
There was a quiet hush, and Lee leaned forward slightly, saw Jackson’s face, a look of embarrassed horror. Scott held the silence, waited, the dramatic pause, then said, “If you can forgive yourself for the way you slaughtered those poor Mexicans with your guns, I’m not sure that I can!”
Jackson glanced to the side, and Lee saw a look of quiet panic, but then Scott reached out, took Jackson’s hand, gave it a firm sh
ake. There was laughter now, and the men close to the platform began to applaud. Lee watched Jackson’s face, saw his relief, the horror fading, the stare returning, Jackson’s eyes holding the calm blue light again.
The line moved again, and Lee was smiling now, could feel Scott’s good humor infecting them all. He heard more laughter, the familiar sounds of the artillerymen, more teasing of Jackson. Lee couldn’t see them, his vision blocked by the line of men in front of him, thought, There is still something in the man’s eyes, something unsettling, something that says he needs a war.
He took another hand, heard more greetings, names he did not know, some he did, finally saw Johnston limping toward him. “Captain Lee, you seem at home up here.” Johnston leaned close now, whispered, “Tell you what. We ever do this again, I’ll lead the infantry, you can wait back here to shake their hands!”
Johnston moved away, and Lee was not smiling now, took another hand, another face he did not know, Johnston’s words still punched in his brain, hard and cold, and he tried to see Johnston’s face again, but the line had moved on, and he thought, Of course, he was teasing.…
38. LEE
NOVEMBER SECOND
HE HAD BEEN IN THE SADDLE MOST OF THE DAY, HAD RIDDEN UP to the north, close to the hills that led to the vast wilderness, the great open space that eventually became Texas. The maps were still a work in progress, and he carried the fat leather pouch with him as he climbed the long stairway to Scott’s office.
He stopped at the last step, felt the stiffness in his back, brushed again at the dust on his uniform. He saw officers emerging through the wide doorway, followed by Trist, the pale, thin man weighed down by a heavy black coat. Lee stood aside, and they nodded to him as he passed. Trist’s own leather case was fat with papers, and Lee thought, The treaty, glanced down at the case under his arm. Certainly more interesting than what I have here.
