Jeff Shaara and Michael Shaara: Three Novels of the Civil War: Gods and Generals, the Killer Angels, the Last Full Measure

by Jeff Shaara

  The fighting behind them continued to be steady, and he listened carefully, could not detect any movement, any change in the flow. Good, he thought, hold your ground. He rode now to the dam.

  The troops were coming up behind him, across the flat ground, and Custer ran toward him, waving the men forward. “Sir! It’s empty!” he said, excited, panting. “There’s no one there! We can cross the dam and occupy the fortifications!”

  Hancock dismounted, handed the reins to an aide and walked quickly across the soft dirt of the dam. He saw his men, the first ones across, in line behind a great round wall, a wide trench. Then he saw more trenches, spreading out in several directions, and he climbed up on a high mound of brown dirt. The men waved, threw hats quietly in the air, and he thought, This is incredible, we have flanked the enemy and no one knows we’re here.

  Beyond the earthworks there was shooting, distant musket fire, and the men began to move in that direction. Rifles came up on the far side of the works, pointing out at the scattered shots. Hancock walked along the top of the earthworks, and now other officers were eyeing their front, toward the shooting, and he saw an officer motion to him, a quiet, urgent wave. He jumped down into the trench, moved to the man’s position and followed the man’s point with his glasses.

  Across the wet grassland, dotted with small marshy ponds, he saw lines of brown, Confederate troops in line, moving to the left, toward the battle they had been hearing. Beyond those troops were more earthworks, larger, heavier, the walls they called Fort Magruder. Light musket fire was increasing in their direction, and Hancock lowered his glasses, saw, closer, another fortification, trenches and earthworks, smaller, like this one. He saw a rebel officer, a man in a tall black hat, pointing the rifles of the troops in a new direction, their direction, aware now of this new threat.

  Hancock called for a courier, and a red-faced lieutenant scurried over the dirt embankments and saluted clumsily. Hancock said, “Go, now, to General Smith. Tell him we have flanked the enemy. We are only lightly opposed, but that will change. If he can shift his units in this direction, we can assist both him and General Hooker. We might be able to push the enemy out of the fortifications to Hooker’s front. Stress the point: we are on the enemy’s flank. Move fast, Lieutenant.”

  His troops were nearly all across the dam, and the trenches were filled, became lines of solid blue. Hancock spied the closer troops again, saw thin lines, maybe one regiment, and he shouted at the other officers, “Up . . . over the wall, advance on those troops! Tell your men to hold their fire until you order it. Move out!”

  The officers shouted the orders, and men began to climb the earthen walls. They slid down into the tall grass, lines formed, and they moved forward. There was more noise now, shots coming in quicker succession, the balls whizzing by, some high over his head. He sat on the wall, heard the balls thumping the sides of the thick dirt. His men continued to move out, a spreading swarm of blue down through the grass, and within minutes they had reached the lines of the enemy. Suddenly, they stopped, poured a volley of thick fire into the rebel troops, and instantly he could not see, the lines hidden by a thick white cloud. He slid down, jumped into the thick grass, pulled his pistol and began to move forward with his men.

  He stumbled, followed the shouts of the men in front of him, was not sure of distance, how far he had come. Then the smoke gave way, the shooting slowed, then stopped, and he was climbing another wall, a low, thick hill of dirt. In front of him his men were pushing on, through the new fortifications, and now he saw the first bodies, men in gray and brown uniforms, those who did not escape the assault. He did not wait, ran over the tops of the earthworks, reached the far side, saw his men ready to climb out, to press on, and he waved them back, no, not yet.

  He saw the rebels moving away, no more than a hundred men, and he realized they had pushed back only a small outpost, an isolated unit. He looked toward Fort Magruder again and the heavy sounds of battle, and saw nothing to their front, nothing to stop them from pushing on, into the side of the Confederate position.

  He turned, looked back toward the distant dam, said out loud, to the reinforcements that were not yet there, “Come on, dammit!”

  Then he saw a horseman, a man riding on the dam, a tricky move, and the man came forward, a different face, not his courier, and he began to walk back through his gathered troops.

  The courier saw him, dismounted, and climbed the wide dirt wall. “General, sir. General Sumner orders you to withdraw from your position. You are in a tenuous spot, General. You are ordered to withdraw back to General Smith’s lines . . . back there. You are too far in advance, sir.”

  Hancock stared at the man, disbelieving. He saw the snotty confidence of the untested staff officer, the smug arrogance of a man with a big message and no responsibility for it, and he moved closer to the man, leaned hard into the man’s face.

  “Listen, son. You go back and you tell General Sumner . . .” He paused, felt the anger screaming in his ears, and the man’s face changed, the arrogance turned to fear. Hancock was surprised, and a voice in his head said, No, careful, be careful. He turned away, looked for another courier, saw his aides now, gathering around, and no one was talking, they were all watching him. He pointed at one, the young Lieutenant Crane, motioned him closer.

  Crane moved up, saluted, and Hancock took a slow, deep breath, loosened the tightness in his jaw, said, “Lieutenant, you will take a message to General Sumner. You will inform the general that we are on the open flank of the enemy, and that reinforcements have already been requested from General Smith. You tell General Sumner that I do not understand his . . . order for withdrawing these troops. I would like it made clear. Do you understand, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir. Perfectly,” and the man was off, ran to a waiting horse and rode quickly away.

  Sumner’s man watched Hancock warily, like a trainer watching an angry lion, and Hancock ignored him, moved forward, toward the eyes of his men, stepped through the earthworks and climbed up, studied the heavy Confederate lines, still in place, through his glasses. The battle had begun to slow, the volleys were irregular, but the sounds still came from in front of the fort, no big push either way: it had been a stalemate. He thought, It won’t be a stalemate if we hit them from here. But he knew Longstreet would react, his presence was known by now. He looked at his watch, nearly three o’clock. Plenty of time . . . if Smith would just come.

  “Sir, a rider!”

  He looked around, saw a horseman coming through the thick swampy grass, a different man, not one of his, and the man dismounted, ran in a crouch over the earthworks, hearing a battle that wasn’t there.

  “General Hancock, sir, General Smith regrets to inform you that he has been ordered by General Sumner not to send any troops to your position. General Smith understands that you have been ordered to withdraw. General Smith is of the opinion . . . sir . . . that you may withdraw at your convenience, sir. At a time you see as best, within the limits of General Sumner’s order.” The man paused, and Hancock saw his discomfort.

  “Sir, the general is not in agreement with General Sumner’s order, and wishes you to know that. But General Sumner is in command of the field.”

  Hancock nodded, knew Smith was playing it as carefully as a good politician can.

  “Please return to General Smith and thank him for his intentions. You may tell the general that I will remain here until such time as General Sumner’s orders are clarified. I did not completely understand them the first time. His courier was . . . vague.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The man ducked low again, moved back across the earthworks.

  Sumner’s man stood with Hancock’s remaining aides, and stepped forward, prepared with a mild protest.

  “Sir, General Sumner’s orders—”

  “You may return to General Sumner. Relay to the general that our position here continues to be strong. We are in a position to carry the field. Request General Sumner to repeat his order. You wer
e vague.”

  The man swallowed his protest, mounted his horse and was quickly gone.

  Hancock went back to the front wall, continued to glass the far positions. The shooting began again, a fresh volley, then slowed, and now there was silence. From behind him, he heard another horse, turned and saw Crane. The look on the young man’s face told him what he did not want to hear.

  “Sir, General Sumner has ordered you again to withdraw from your position. He is insistent, sir.”

  Hancock turned away from the man, felt a heavy fist inside his chest, pressing down hard on his own disgust, forcing it down deep inside him. You do not criticize generals, you obey them, he thought. But this is pure stupidity. We are losing our opportunity. A glorious piece of good luck has been erased by the hesitation of a cautious old man.

  He looked at his watch, five o’clock. Now there was not much time, and it was clear that no more troops were coming from General Smith.

  Men began to call out, pointing, and Custer suddenly appeared, climbing over the far end of the earthworks, plucking at briars on his hat.

  “I hope you, for one, have enjoyed this day, Lieutenant. Gone for a walk in the woods?”

  “General, sir, I have been doing a bit of reconnaissance. The enemy is beginning to move this way. At least two regiments, maybe more, are forming behind those woods to the right. They appear to be units of Early’s brigade, sir.”

  Hancock thought, We can hold out here for a while, but this fortification is too small, we are too tightly bunched. If they should bring up artillery . . .

  “Good work, Lieutenant.” He motioned to Crane, sent him to the commanders, gave the word to begin pulling back, out of the fortifications, back toward the dam.

  The orders were called out, and men began to climb out, going back the way they had come, and he saw the looks, the disappointment. They didn’t understand either, he thought. Even the troops knew they should have kept going.

  He followed the last of the companies through the winding trench works, then climbed up and over the dirt embankment, and now the earthworks were empty, except for the neat row of Confederate dead, which his men had arranged respectfully. They moved quickly back through the thick grass, reached the first fortification, filled it, and Hancock climbed up on the wall, watching his men. He looked out past the works, back across the dam to the great open field, the plain of green grass that they had first crossed, saw a rider suddenly appear on one of the low crests that ran across the field. It was Smith’s man again, and he knew there would be nothing he wanted to hear. But he watched the man disappear again, between the crests, completely out of sight. Then the man topped the second crest, came down across the flat plain toward the dam.

  Hancock turned, suddenly, shouted, “Regimental commanders . . . I need the commanders here . . . now!”

  The word went out, and through the trenches below him he saw the officers approach, snaking their way through the troops. Behind him Custer was glassing the fortification they had abandoned.

  “General, the rebels have returned.”

  Hancock turned, put his glasses on the flags that were moving into the works, saw three, four, then men on horses, more troops, and now shots began, from out of the woods, closer to them, from the right, where Custer had seen the units forming.

  He turned, saw the faces of his colonels, said, “Gentlemen, we have been ordered to withdraw. So, we will withdraw. Right now, lose no time, move across the dam as quickly as you can. Lots of noise, let them know we are leaving. We are running away, their numbers are overwhelming us.” He laughed, and the officers did not understand, looked at each other, and Custer stood up beside him, followed his gaze out to the wide-open field.

  Hancock said to his commanders, “Gentlemen, when you top that first rise, form your men into battle line . . . facing this way. Then you will wait for my orders.”

  The officers spread out through the troops, and the column formed quickly, began to cross the dam.

  Hancock saw Lieutenant Hughes, called him over and said, “Lieutenant, are Wheeler’s batteries where I wanted them, in those far trees there?”

  “Yes, sir. Colonel Wheeler understood your orders plainly, sir.”

  Good, he thought. Very damned good. Wheeler would not move his guns without word from him first, no matter who sent the order.

  “Lieutenant, I want you to ride like hell across that field, find Colonel Wheeler and tell him to prepare for an assault. Tell him we are withdrawing across his line of fire, and to keep a sharp watch on our movements. I will give him a signal. I will wave my sword in the air—tell him, once we pass across his line of fire to keep watching me. He will know what to do.”

  “Yes, sir.” Crane moved toward the dam, pushing through the line of men, and Hancock watched him ride out across the open grass.

  Behind him rebel troops, Early’s troops, were cutting their way through the dense woods, and now the pickets had made it through, began to fire at the blue coats filing out of the works. Hancock pointed Custer in their direction, and the young lieutenant ran toward the sound of the muskets, collecting men, placing them on the dirt wall, and quickly they fired a volley, then another, and the annoying fire was slowed, the pickets driven back into the cover of the dark woods.

  Hancock pointed the glasses back toward the other earthworks, saw lines of men moving out, toward him, blending into the tall swamp grass. The rebels were now in pursuit of his retreating troops.

  Custer ran toward him, and Hancock saw they were nearly alone in the earthworks. The last men were crossing the dam, and his troops were marching in ragged formation across the field, beginning the slight climb up toward the first crest.

  “Excuse me, General, but there are rebel troops on two sides of us, advancing rapidly. I suggest, sir, it is time to leave.”

  Hancock hopped up on the wall that faced the woods, saw lines of men pouring out through the trees, easy musket range away, and he jumped down, said, “Yes, Lieutenant, we must join the retreat. Try to look as panicked as you can.”

  “Sir?”

  “Let’s move, Lieutenant.”

  Hancock ran across the dam, Custer close behind. The balls began to fly by now, poorly aimed at a rare target. They reached the horses and received the reins from a very nervous aide, who quickly ran toward the withdrawing lines of his own unit. Hancock spurred his horse, thought, This is not the time to be stubborn, old girl, and the mare moved in a quick jump, began to glide up the long incline, past the swiftly marching troops.

  He stopped at the crest of the hill, could see it all now. The Confederate troops had swarmed over the works, were crossing the dam, hard in pursuit. He saw the whole picture now in his head, the plan came to him like a clear blue light, like a window opening in his brain, a sudden flow of clean, cool air, and he smiled. Yes, yes. He turned, looked back to the line of trees that had brought them there, felt the presence of the big guns, Wheeler’s guns, and he knew Wheeler was watching him, somewhere, up in a tree. Keep watching, my good man, you are about to see it unfold.

  His troops reached the crest of the hill, began the descent into the trough between the two crests, and quickly the officers directed them into line. Hancock watched as they filled the depression, a solid blue wall growing stronger as each man came over the hill.

  He glassed back down toward the dam, saw cannon being rolled up on the other side, then scanned down to the lines of gray troops coming up the hill. Their cannon will not fire, he thought, it is too close to their own men, right over their heads, and now they can’t see us at all. He looked back to the trees, saw motion through the low branches, and took one last glance at the lines of men chasing him. Then he grabbed at his belt, felt the solid brass handle, pulled his sword from the scabbard and waved it in a wide circle over his head.

  In an instant puffs of smoke blew out from the line of trees, and shells began to scream across, in front of the crest, and into the lines of rebel troops. He sat high on his horse, just enough to peer
over the top of the hill, saw the cannon far below turning, taking aim on his guns, of course, they would try to duel the artillery. They could not shell the troops. He waited until the rebel guns began firing, smoke grew in a thick cloud over the dam, shells began to burst back in the trees to his right.

  The lines of rebel troops were moving faster now, began a wild yell, feeling the full effect of the cannon fire. Wheeler’s shells continued to burst among the rebels, flashes of fire and smoke began to blur the lines, and now the first gray troops made it to the top of the hill and faced the solid blue line. The first volley went out, a thousand muskets opened together, a long, thin line of white smoke pouring their shot into the first lines of gray troops. The rebels stopped cold, only a few yards from the lines of blue, began to turn back into themselves, and more men reached the top, saw what lay on the other side, and another volley was fired, and the rebel lines fell to pieces. Hancock watched the collapse of the attack, saw the rebels backing down, off the crest, and he turned, yelled to Custer, gave the order, yelled for him to carry the order through the lines, then yelled to Colonel Gray and Colonel Cobb, whose men waited in line close beside him, “Charge!”

  His men moved up the gentle slope in one motion and met the jumbled and broken lines of gray troops at the crest of the hill. The strong advance by his deep rows of men, visible now across the open field as one long blue wave, sent the rebel lines back down the slope in complete confusion. Hancock’s men crossed over the rise, began to pursue the rebels back toward the dam. He rode to the top of the crest, could see nothing for the thick smoke, gradually pushed his horse forward, rode slowly for several minutes down the gradual slope, over the bodies of the Confederate troops, a bloody carpet across the entire ridge. The sounds of the battle faded. The only musket fire came from far away now, across the dam, and now his men began to come back up the hill. The chase was over, the rebel soldiers were pushed back to their defenses.