by Jeff Shaara
He moved through the office door. Sergeant Dunnigan was sitting behind a small desk, and rose to greet him. “Sir! Welcome. Wish I could tell you different, but sorry to say the general is not in a very good mood.”
Lee smiled. “Sorry to hear that. I don’t have much to report that will change that.”
Dunnigan leaned forward, lowered his voice. “There was quite a bit of fireworks earlier. Mr. Trist seems to bring that with him. Not sure how things are going with the Mexicans.” The door to the inner office opened and the young Scott appeared, looked at Lee, scanned his dirty uniform, frowned his disapproval. He looked at Dunnigan. “If Captain Lee wishes to see the commanding general, there should be a few minutes now.”
Lee wanted to say something, thought, I am here, it would be all right to speak directly to me. He was still not comfortable around Major Scott, the strange barrier between them even now. He never believed he had done anything to offend the young man, had tried to find small ways to be sociable, even friendly. But Major Scott still kept his distance, exercised cold formality.
Lee accepted it now, would play the game, said to Dunnigan, “I would very much like to speak to General Scott. If he is available …”
The young Scott moved behind him, left the office, and Dunnigan watched him go. “It’s not you, Captain. He’s just … different. Doesn’t seem to like anybody that General Scott approves of.”
Lee said, “We all have our peculiarities, Sergeant. It is God’s pleasure to give each of us something unique.”
“Excuse me for saying so, Captain, but God’s gotta get plenty of entertainment if He’s watching this place. I never seen so many odd characters—”
Dunnigan stopped abruptly, stifled a moan. Scott stood in the doorway to the office, said, “Tell me, Sergeant, does your insight into God provide you with some explanation as to why I am so thoroughly tormented?”
Dunnigan cleared his throat. “No, sir. My apologies, sir.”
Scott grunted, said to Lee, “You’re not here to see him, dammit. Come in.”
Lee moved past Scott into the big, empty office, saw the chairs scattered around. Scott moved to the big chair, sat.
“Take a seat, Mr. Lee. You look as if you could use a rest.” Lee moved to a chair, set the leather case on the floor beside him. “I won’t take up your time, sir. I just wanted to let you know that I had completed the survey of the hills to the north.…”
“Tell me about it later. I’d rather have you just sit there for a minute, if you don’t mind. All day long I’ve had people in here complaining, saying things to each other they’re afraid to say to me. Sometimes they just send notes, so they don’t have to look at me when I place a well-chosen profanity in front of their names. And my sergeant talks to God …”
Lee said, “No, please sir. That was my fault. He didn’t say anything out of line—”
Scott held up his hand. “It’s all right, Mr. Lee. I give him hell all the time. He’s used to it. You can say things to sergeants you can’t say to officers. Officers are infected with pride. They’re like big fat tomatoes. They bruise easily. They still threaten to fight duels, for God’s sake. I’ve had men, right here in this office, make hints that if this was back home, or some other circumstance, they’d challenge me to a duel! Been through that before, you know. Did you know that Andrew Jackson, our beloved President, our great national hero … did you know he challenged me to a duel?”
Lee was surprised, said, “No, sir. President Jackson?”
“He wasn’t President then. Not long after the war with England, maybe thirty years ago now. We never got along, not from my earliest days as an officer. Good thing we fought the British from posts so far apart. Worked out best for the country, I was in New York, he was in New Orleans. Well, after the war, somehow somebody’s words got twisted, somebody else stirring the pot, anonymous letters, accusations. All a big storm over nothing. Only time in my life I ever really felt backed into a corner. Wasn’t scared of the duel, about whether he’d kill me or not. I knew I’d win. Dodged a bullet plenty of times in the war. Didn’t give that much thought. But, imagine if I’d killed him? Old Hickory? I’d have become a national disgrace, lost everything I ever worked for. Learned a lot about diplomacy then. Had to come up with something to cool him off, without costing me my job. Tricky situation. He outranked me, but I was the commanding field general of the army. Two big frogs in a damned small pond.”
Scott sat back, stared far away.
Lee smiled. “You should write a book, sir.”
Scott focused again, looked at him. “One day. No time now. Besides, enough people despise me as it is. I start telling the truth, putting their names in a book, and they’ll be lining up with their dueling pistols. For all I know, they’re lining up already in Washington.”
Lee had heard about new controversies, feuds, had stayed away from the talk. He was beginning to feel uneasy, thought, Maybe this isn’t the time.
“Sir, I can make my report later if you’d prefer.”
Scott laughed. “Makes you nervous, eh, Mr. Lee? Intrigue in high places. I can’t seem to get away from it. We finally open up the communication lines again, and the first thing I hear is reports being sent home from two of my esteemed commanders, each claiming they’re responsible for our great victory. I knew it would come from Pillow, that’s the only reason he came down here in the first place. Now, it’s coming from Worth too, some ridiculous claim that this was all his idea, the assault on Mexico City, the whole plan. Before it’s over with, maybe even before we leave here, if it gets nasty enough, I may have to do something about it. Hell of a note, putting me in that position. The great victorious army, returning home to parades and celebrations, and oh yes, by the way, two of your generals are under arrest.”
Lee shifted in the chair. “Surely it will not come to that, sir. Reason will prevail. It must be … frustration, the eagerness to go home. Once this army returns, it is the victory that will matter.”
Scott tilted his head, looked at him and frowned. “You actually believe that, don’t you?”
“I would hope so, sir. We have accomplished a great feat here. We have prevailed. The country should be proud of her soldiers.”
“Mr. Lee, I finally received copies of the newspapers in Washington, New York. Did you know there have been public protests? There has been an organized movement calling for an end to this war. Even congressmen have made speeches, great public outrage, end the war, stop it, pull out. Polk has been under fire from the start. I knew the Europeans would howl, they howl at anything we do. But it’s not foreigners, it’s Americans who say that we have no business being here in the first place.”
Lee felt a dull shock. “Why, sir?”
“What’s going to be the final result of the war? What do you think Mr. Trist is working so hard for? Our treaty will eventually include our annexation of lower Texas, which was always a foregone conclusion. But it will also include the United States of America assuming control of California, and most of the land in between. What is being negotiated right now is not whether all that land becomes ours, but how much we will pay for it. We’re actually going to pay the Mexicans millions of dollars. And since we won the war, we have the upper hand, we can decide how much we ought to pay. Our leverage … our strength, Mr. Lee, is that if they do not agree to our terms, we will threaten to annex, say, half of Mexico as well, put a dividing line, maybe the new border of Texas, right through here. I heard some of that talk before I came down here … this is nothing more than a land grab. I never listened to all that nonsense. I came here knowing something about duty, about fighting for your country. Now, I see the treaty, what Mr. Trist was really sent down here to do. It is indeed a land grab.”
Lee was numb. “Sir, if this was not a just cause … if God did not approve—”
“Hell, Mr. Lee, I don’t know what God approves or doesn’t approve. There’s quite a few people in Washington who seem to know for certain that He approves quite nicely.
Have to admit, in the beginning I did too. It’s Manifest Destiny, Mr. Lee, it’s our birthright. It’s plain English, right there in the Monroe Doctrine. This land is ours, because we say it is. President Polk made this war, not Santa Anna. Hell, in the beginning Santa Anna wasn’t even here.” He paused, thought for a moment. Lee leaned forward, waiting for the words.
“Mr. Lee, it took me a while to realize that even though I command this army, I’m not in command of this war. This war belongs to the politicians, not the soldiers. You and I, we did our duty, we are trained to believe we are fighting for right, for what is just. We won, for God’s sake. We have a right to expect to go home to a hero’s welcome. But, be prepared, Mr. Lee. It may not be like that. There may be no parades, no glorious triumphant march. Once the treaty is signed, the politicians take over. This army will have no place, no part of the prize. Men like Pillow understand that. Men like Worth are grabbing for their own place in history, latching on to some piece of fame. Frankly … it’s sad, Mr. Lee.”
Lee could feel Scott’s depression now, said, “Sir, it cannot be that way, not completely. There are still the families of these men, the people in the towns who will see their soldiers returning home … triumphant, victorious. There is inspiration in that, surely. These men didn’t fight for Washington, or for a piece of land. They saw the Mexicans as the enemy.”
“They were well trained, Mr. Lee. I agree, they did not fight for Polk, or whether they could start a farm in California. I have to admit that I am sometimes amazed by that, by the spirit.” He stopped, and Lee saw the general’s sadness. Scott rubbed his hands slowly on the desk then looked at Lee through red-rimmed eyes. “I’m not one of the soldiers anymore, Mr. Lee. I miss that more than anything. I watched them charge up Chapultepec, and I forgot all about Polk and land and newspapers. There is purity in those moments, and every man holds that in his heart, every man knows what he is fighting for. He fights for the man beside him, for the man up ahead holding the flag, for the sergeant who screams at him from behind. That’s when a man knows God is with him, with all of them. It’s why they climb the ladders, it’s what sends them over the wall.”
Lee could feel the weight in the room, the air growing heavy, the sadness etched in Scott’s face. There was a silent moment before Scott said, “What about you, Mr. Lee? You have some yearning for politics? Or are you still a soldier?” Scott laughed, then continued, “No, I know the answer to that already. Just, don’t change, Mr. Lee. Your place is here. There will be other wars. Not for me. This is all for me. Too many years, too many enemies. The future is in your hands, commanding all those young officers, all those West Pointers. Your place will be … right here, some room just like this one, some other godforsaken place. I hope you’re comfortable with your Cause.”
Lee searched for words, thought, He cannot be right, not completely. He is tired, exhausted. He is entitled to that, after all. “Sir, perhaps when the army returns home, you should take some time, some reflection. Things may not appear so … pessimistic.”
Scott laughed, leaned back again in the chair, said, “Maybe you’re right. Thought about taking up the challenge myself, fight them at their own game. I’ve learned enough about politics from these peacocks around here, might try my hand at it.”
Lee smiled, thought, He’s not serious. “Really, sir. Would you be President?”
Scott nodded slowly. “That would work. Hard to be a subordinate, should go straight for the top job.” He leaned forward again. “Not this time, though, too soon, and besides, Zachary Taylor’s already campaigning, got his foot in the door now. Can’t have two military men run against each other. Lacks … decorum. Have to wait four more years.”
Lee saw that Scott was serious. “Do you … mean it, sir? You’d run for President?”
“Why not? Can’t do any worse than these characters now. If Old Hickory can do it, no reason I can’t. Might even cause him to rise up from the grave, just so he can vote against me.”
Scott shook his head, seemed to drift away now, and Lee waited for a long moment, before saying, “Sir, I do need to go over these maps with you. If you prefer, it can wait.”
Scott looked at him, and Lee felt the stare, the full strength of the man, felt like the small son before the great power of the father. Scott leaned close, said quietly, “Mr. Lee, I meant what I said. You have a future in this army.” Scott paused, seemed to think a moment, said now, “Mr. Lee, I have been making notes, working on the reports, all the damned paperwork that will go to Washington. Sometimes, things get lost, buried somewhere in a report almost no one will read, no one who matters anyway. I’d prefer that didn’t happen this time.”
Lee replied, “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.”
“No, of course you don’t. Mr. Lee, I was a soldier before most of these soldiers were born. I have fought warriors, savages, gentlemen, and politicians. I have been attacked by nearly every disease that the soldier’s life provides him.” He paused, seemed to search for words, and Lee waited, could feel the silence, the hard energy of Scott’s mind.
“I have seen every kind of soldier there is, Mr. Lee. I have seen the quiet ones who become heroes by accident. When the battle is hottest, I have seen the loud talkers turn into cowards, and I have seen foot soldiers rise up to lead regiments. There is education in that, Mr. Lee.” Scott stopped again, leaned back in the chair, and Lee waited patiently, thought, He needs this, to say these things. Do not forget this moment.…
“Mr. Lee, despite what they teach you at West Point, not every soldier has value, not every officer is a leader. In the great battles, there is no equality. A commander has to know that, has to understand that there are those he can depend on and those he cannot. But always … always, I have seen the good men, the best men, step forward.”
Lee nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Like hell you do. You have no idea what I’m getting at, do you?”
Lee felt a slow burn now, the embarrassment beginning to rise up inside him. “No, sir.”
“Captain Lee, these reports will go to Washington with one very prominent mention of one very good officer. That officer is you. I had thought this might wait, but hell, everybody else around here is strutting his promotions like some damned princess at a ball. Never mind that it’s all just brevets. Half those promotions will never become official. Once things calm down and the War Department shuffles the papers, we’ll find out we need more sergeants and fewer majors. But it puts everybody in a good mood. However …”
Scott pushed aside a paper on his desk, read for a moment. “Ah, yes, here. Mr. Lee, as I said, it won’t be official until some damned clerk files the paperwork, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s official right now. It is my privilege, Captain, that for your service above and beyond … um … most everybody else around here, you are hereby breveted the rank of colonel.”
Lee stared at him in shock, saw a broad smile, felt a strange uneasiness. “Sir, that’s … three ranks. Shouldn’t it be just … major?”
Scott put the paper aside, laughed. “Got to hand it to you, Mr. Lee. Never had an officer argue with me about his promotion. Consider this to be three promotions. If I have to justify it to you, well, that’s easy. One for Cerro Gordo, another for what you did in that damned lava field. And there’s your fine work in scouting and placing the guns at Chapultepec. Give me some time, Mr. Lee, I’ll probably remember a few more things you did. But for now, does that sit all right with you? Put your mind at ease?”
Lee was numb, saw Scott’s beaming smile, tried to say something, but his mind was a blank. Scott seemed to wait for him, and Lee shook his head slowly. “This was not necessary, sir. I did nothing anyone else would not have done.”
The smile vanished and Scott said, “Spare me all of that, Mr. Lee. There are times when a man must accept his … medicine. I expect you to say one thing, and one thing only.”
Lee fought his embarrassment. “Thank you, sir.”
�
�You’re welcome, Mr. Lee.” Scott smiled again. “See? It’s not that damned hard.”
Lee smiled, felt the tightness loosening in his mind, felt that small hidden place opening up, a dark place he kept wrapped inside a hard fist. He began to feel good now, could feel the affection from Scott, the warmth behind the words. “Thank you, sir.”
Scott stood, moved to the tall window, and Lee felt himself smiling still, took hold of it now, thought, All right, enough. There is more work to do. He glanced down to the thick bag on the floor, then looked up at Scott. No, it should come from him. He knows why I’m here. He sat back again, watched Scott.
“I don’t know what your plans are, Mr. Lee. Certainly, Colonel Totten will expect you to resume some kind of engineering work. That’s not a bad thing, I suppose.” Scott turned, looked directly at him, the huge man framed by the light of the window.
“Yes, sir. It’s a good assignment. There is a great deal of work to do.”
Scott grunted. “Building forts. You want to grow old building forts, Mr. Lee?”
“I will do my duty, sir.”
“I’ve seen the kind of duty you can do, Mr. Lee. I can tell you right now, it will happen to many of them, and they don’t know it yet. And it will happen to you. You will go home to peace. And you won’t like it. No matter where they send you, you will remember what it felt like at Cerro Gordo. You’ll try to hide from it, the way I hid from it for thirty years. But it will find you, it will come back to you in the middle of the night and jar you awake. All the sounds and smells, all the horror, will be fresh in your mind. You’ll think you’ve tucked it all away, memories you can tell your children about, trimmed and edited, packaged carefully so the horror doesn’t show. But it won’t work. Because the horror is real. And now it’s a part of you. That’s what war does to soldiers, Mr. Lee. You will always be a soldier. A damned fine soldier. And you won’t forget that.”
