"Gettysburg" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forstchen William R, Gingrich Newt)

JULY I, 1863, 9:00 AM

"Battalions, forward march!"

The colonel shouting the order sat ramrod straight astride his mount, sword drawn, the tip of the blade resting against his shoulder, obviously nervous that the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia was watching. The young officer's voice echoed across the orchard, picked up by company captains, rippling down the line. He raised his sword and saluted as the column moved onto the Chambersburg Pike and headed east toward the South Mountain gap.

Lee returned the salute, reining in Traveler, and moved to the side of the road, clearing the way for the brigade of Georgia troops that were filing out of the orchard. A lone fifer at the front of the column valiantly tried to play "Dixie." The boy looked over at Lee, turned bright red, and completely fumbled the tune, a ripple of laughter echoing through the column at his discomfort

Lee smiled and touched the brim of his hat in salute to the boy who, crestfallen, looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

"Don't you worry, General, we can fight a heap better than Jimmie can play," a wag shouted from the middle of the column.

A piercing cheer erupted, the men raising their caps in salute as they passed Lee.

"They're in good spirits this morning."

Lee nodded, looking over at Pete Longstreet who was riding beside him. "They're ready for what has to be done," Lee said quietly, watching as the column passed before him. "In spite of the hard marching of the last three weeks, the men look healthier, they're living well off of the land up here.

"You saw the report I sent over to you last night from Harry Heth?" Lee asked, looking back at Longstreet

"The contact his division made with Yankee cavalry last night near Gettysburg? Yes."

"And?"

"If Stuart was where he was supposed to be, we'd know more about what's down this road," and as he spoke Pete gestured to the east

"That's what we'll find out today," Lee said. "It might be nothing more than a forward screen, backed up with some militia."

"Or it could be the entire Army of the Potomac concentrating there. We're still spread out sir."

"We won't be by the end of today," Lee replied sharply. "We are at Cashtown, as planned. If the Army of the Potomac is indeed coming up, as your spy reported, Cashtown is very defendable ground. And don't worry about our young prodigy. General Stuart will be reined in; I've sent couriers put to look for him."

Longstreet said nothing, but Lee could read the doubt in his eyes, the caution that hung over "the Dutchman." In the past it has always been a good balance, the impetuous Jackson, ready to leap off into the unknown, Longstreet the opposite, forever preaching about defense. But Jackson was gone. Longstreet was the senior of the corps commanders now and had to be pushed to show more audacity.

The column continued to pour out of the orchard and onto the road, and Lee felt a thrill at the sight of them. They were typical of the hard-fighting Army of Northern Virginia. Many wore gray four-button jackets, some were dressed in whatever could be found or sent from home. Butternut brown was fairly common, the wool spun, woven, cut stitched, and dyed by loving hands. Some wore butternut pants as well, but a fair number had on sky blue trousers, taken from Yankee prisoners.

Most of the men had shoes, yet again captured, though more than one boy was barefoot this morning. On the soft dirt roads of central Virginia on a summer day this hadn't been a problem, but this road was a main pike, and as it cut through the South Mountain Range there were sections that had been macadamized with crushed limestone gravel so the going would be tough on bare soles.

In this, the third year of the war, the men passing before him were tough, lean, hard survivors who knew their business. They were stripped down for summer campaigning: a blanket roll over the left shoulder maybe containing an extra pair of socks and shirt, perhaps a Bible stuffed in a breast pocket, a haversack that for once was bulging with rations, a cartridge box with forty rounds, and a good Enfield.577-cal. rifle on their shoulders, in total not more than twenty-five to thirty pounds of equipment

Headgear in this army truly was a mark of individualism. A few wore kepis, mainly the officers and NCOs; most had on slouch caps, broad brimmed, dirty, sweat stained, more than one on the point of falling apart. A man in the middle of the column was wearing a tall stovepipe, which he courteously removed as he passed, and directly behind him was a redheaded, bucktoothed lad wearing a woman's bonnet the men around him grinning as he took it off and tried to hide his joke before Lee noticed.

They looked up at him eagerly, eyes bright, some doffing their hats in respect others saluting, the bolder ones calling out his name, a few asking if the Yankees were up ahead.

It had rained during the night. The air was heavy, damp, coiling wisps of fog trailing up from the mountain range just to the east The air was rich with morning smells, crushed hay, peaches, and cherries ripening in the orchards. Mingled in, of course, was the smell of the men passing, a rank mixture of scents that every army throughout history cloaked itself in.

Lee edged Traveler onto the road and broke into a smooth canter. Traveler, well rested and well fed for a change, took the pace eagerly. They passed the head of the Georgia column, and this time the fifer boy held his tune.

Next on the road was a battery of three-inch rifles, four guns, battery horses looking like they had just been "requisitioned" from a farm, leaning hard into the ton and a half of gun and caisson. The battery was from Virginia, and he looked at the faces of the boys, wondering if any were the sons of old friends or neighbors from long ago.

The road ahead pushed up through the gap in the South Mountain Range, orchards and split-rail fences flanking the pike, giving way to woods filled with stately old elms and chestnuts that canopied the road. The day promised to be warm, but here in the pass the slanting rays of the morning sun, poking out from a scattered bank of rain clouds, had yet to take off the chill. It was pleasant, like stepping into a dark springhouse on a hot day. Moisture from a shower still clung to the leaves and branches that arced overhead.

The pike was filled with his army-too many men, in fact, for this single road-and at times they were at a standstill, leaning against rifles, waiting for the traffic to clear up ahead. Their spirits were good, though. The day was still young, and they were an army used to triumphs, now moving deep within enemy territory. The world around them was new, fresh, untouched yet by the ravages of war, and thus a world to fill them with curiosity and interest.

But after passing more than a mile of troops frozen in place, Lee felt an increasing frustration. He wanted this army moving, concentrating, not locked in place, and finally he waved for his aide, Walter Taylor, to come to his side.

"Get a courier forward. I want to know what the delay is up ahead, and tell whoever is responsible to clear the road and keep this column moving!"

Salutes were exchanged, and an eager young boy, delighted with his task, set off at a gallop, knowing that thousands of eyes would be upon him, that he bore an order from Genera] Lee, and perhaps the fate of the Confederacy rested on the safe delivery of the message.

Edging around the stalled columns, Lee and his entourage crested the top of the pass and started downslope, the column ahead still mired in place.

And then he sensed it

He didn't hear it; rather it was a feeling in the air, a certain tension, a distant pressure. Looking to the side of the road, he saw where several men had broken away from the column, climbed up into trees, and were shading their eyes against the morning sun. They were looking to the east. One of the men was pointing, exclaiming that there was "mischief."

There was a fight up ahead.

The pass came down out of the mountain and into a sloping orchard. Lee turned from the road, weaving through a broken-down section of fence, and cantered through the rows of peach trees, the nearly ripened fruit hanging thick on the branches.

It was ground he had examined on a map, but only now was he seeing it for the first time. Yet already he knew it the steep, dropping slope that offered a perfect defensive position to either side of the road, the orchards and pastures on the lower slope providing clear fields of fire. It was his fallback position, a place where he had hoped to lure the Army of the Potomac into battle, but what he was feeling in the air whispered to him that such plans were in the past

Longstreet rode beside him, quiet his staff trailing behind.

Lee reined in by a small clapboard-sided church and dismounted. There, to the east was a darker cloud, dirty yellow and gray, eight, maybe ten miles off. A slight tremor in the air, a distant thump of a summer storm far away, of a battle not so far away. Longstreet was still beside him, glasses raised.

"More than a skirmish," Longstreet announced. "Spread out across a half mile or more of front"

'1 knew nothing of this," Lee said, looking around at his staff;

They shifted uncomfortably; all were silent.

"Courier coming," Longstreet announced, as the rider approached on a lathered mount reined in, saluted, and handed the dispatch to Taylor.

"From General Heth, sir," Taylor announced. "He is engaged before Gettysburg. He reports contact with at least one brigade of Union cavalry."

"When was that sent?" Longstreet asked.

"Eight-thirty this morning, sir."

Longstreet pulled out his pocket watch and sighed. 'Two hours ago. If it was just cavalry, Harry would have pushed them back by now. I think there's infantry up there, sir."

Lee, still dismounted, said nothing, uncasing his field glasses and slowly scanning the horizon to the east A shower of rain passing close by half obscured the view. He caught a flash of what appeared to be artillery, clouds of smoke hanging low in the heavy morning air, again blocking off the view.

The courier sent forward earlier to ascertain the reason for the delay on the road came back in and reported. Johnson's division coming down from the north was filing onto the same road up ahead, their supply wagons, thousands of men, creating a snarl of confusion.

Lee looked at Taylor coldly. "That was not the order of march I detailed last night"

"There must have been some confusion, sir."

"Obviously," Lee replied sharply.

He turned away with head lowered, field glasses dangling from his neck, hands clasped behind his back, a gesture that indicated to those around him that he was on edge.

The tie-up on the road was unacceptable. It could be expected with green troops, but this was an army that needed to move fast especially if a battle was developing just ahead. Someone had "misunderstood" orders yet again. It had happened two months ago at Salem Church, and a certain victory had been thrown away. He would not let it happen again. Not today, especially not today, with so much at stake.

"Colonel Taylor, would you please get out the maps."

There was a scurry of activity. The church was found to be unlocked; a table and chairs were carried out Lee, like Jackson, refused to use a place of worship for military activities and hesitated even to intrude on a private residence. The furniture was set up under a wide-spread elm behind the church. The headquarters map was unrolled on the table and Lee came over, Longstreet and the staff gathering around.

The courier from Heth was still with them, and Lee looked up. "Lieutenant, is General Heth in the town?" He hesitated, looking again at the map, "Gettysburg?"

The courier, somewhat nervous, came up to the table and shook his head. "Ahh, no sir. There's a big school building up on the crest of the hill just to the west of the town. The Yankees are dug in there. We got right up to it yesterday before retiring back when the Yankee cavalry rode in. I heard the boys say it was a Lutheran seminary."

‘That's west of the town?" Longstreet interrupted.

"Yes, sir."

"Any infantry?"

"We didn't see any, sir."

"They're there," Lee said quietly, looking up from the map and back to the east. "Harry would have driven them by now if it was just cavalry. It's obvious he hasn't; the battle is spreading."

"Heth's orders were to probe, not seek a fight," Longstreet interjected. Lee nodded.

"We don't know what's up there," Longstreet continued, and he traced the network rjf roads coming into Gettysburg. "They could be moving up right now, and we're spread out"

"I know that" Lee replied. This time his tone indicated that he wanted silence.

More couriers were coming in as the minutes dragged out while Lee stood silent, gaze locked on the map. Reports now of two Union infantry corps, definitely the Union's First Corps, possibly the Eleventh as well.

"Sir?"

It was Pete.

"Yes, General?"

"Their entire army might be deploying behind that town."

"You're advising me to break off."

"Sir, Harry Heth stuck his neck into it up there," and Pete pointed off to where the plumes of smoke were boiling up. "There's confusion on the road; we'll be feeding in piecemeal the rest of the day. Pull Heth back. This land right here,

sir, it's good ground. They'll come up, just like at Fredericksburg last December. The politicians back in Washington will be screaming at Meade to attack. He's new to his job as commander. He'll feed them in. Atop these heights, we can mow them down."

Lee stepped back from the map, looking to where Pete was pointing. The ground was good, right on the eastern flank of the mountain. Orchards dotted the upper slope, and even as he looked Pete continued to press his case.

"Guns up in the orchards-just drop a few trees for clear fields of fire-infantry farther downslope. Flanks anchored, and a secured line of communications behind us back to Chambersburg. Just like Fredericksburg, even better, sir, with a narrower front Let them come on, sir."

Lee nodded, then motioned for Longstreet to mount Lee got into the saddle and rode down the slope, Longstreet coming up by his side. Cutting across an open pasture, reining in at the edge of a cornfield where the stalks were already waist high, they stopped. Lee turned and looked back up the slope. Longstreet was right; the ground was good, very good.

The Dutchman, feeling that he was winning his point continued to press the argument "They'll come up these slopes, and it will be a slaughter."

"Malvern Hill in reverse," Lee said quietly. "One year ago today."

Longstreet nodded. Everyone in the army knew Malvern Hill was a sore spot with Lee, a battle he wished he had never fought a disaster of disorganized brigades charging up an open slope into the muzzles of over a hundred Union guns.

"It will never happen," Lee said quietly, eyes locked on the slope they had just ridden down. "

‘Sir’

"Always consider the position from the view of your opponent Look at this place," Lee announced, pointing. "Would you attack if they were up there?".

"I don't quite follow you, sir."

"Just that, General," Lee replied sharply. "Neither you nor I would attack if those people were dug in here. We learned that at Malvern Hill. They learned it at Fredericksburg. You have a good eye for ground, General. This position is perfect, and that is why they will never attack us if we dig in here. It's too perfect"

"He'll be under pressure from Washington though."

"And we're under a different pressure, General. We can't dig in and wait. Supplies will have to move up through that single road we just traversed. Three, four days and this countryside will be stripped clean of food, and then we'll have to either attack him or pull back.

"No, sir," Lee continued. "Meade will see us dug in here, and he'll wait us out. Then we will have to withdraw, and we will have gamed nothing, sir, nothing." He slapped his thigh as he spoke.

"General Longstreet, we cannot continue to fight indecisive battles. Down that road lies defeat. Vicksburg is in trouble; that was part of our reason for coming up north, to try and divert forces away from the fighting in the West Our own Army of Northern Virginia will never be stronger than it is this week.

"I want this war to end. What will another Fredericksburg give us? Twenty thousand of their men casualties, five to ten thousand of ours, and the slaughter will have given us nothing. Another battle like that just wears us down a little bit more, and they will continue to get stronger in spite of their losses. They can replace their losses in a month; we no longer can.

"We will not end the war fighting defensively in this place, not here. The enemy is up that road, General. General Heth has met them. You saw the map. We know that two of our divisions, Early and Rodes, are coming down on Gettysburg from the north and northeast. We are coming in from the west I think, sir, we just might have them. Push in hard, and if God wills it we can catch part of their army and annihilate it before the rest comes up.

"Our job is to find the right place and shatter the Union army. We have to win a victory so decisive that the North's will to fight will be shaken, and they will agree to a truce. Any victory less than that will ultimately be a strategic defeat. We have had two years of bloody, indecisive fighting. Now is the time for that decision, and down that road toward Gettysburg is where we are going to force it"

"What about Stuart?"

"He'll be found today."

"I hope so."

A rolling thunder, clearly audible now, washed over them, and both looked back to the east

"General Longstreet you are now my right arm. I ask you to understand that I could always count on you in the defense; you demonstrated that at Sharpsburg and Fredericksburg. I need more from you now, General, much more. I need your voice of caution, but I need you to see the opportunity for attack, for audacity."

"I am not Jackson," Longstreet replied coldly.

Lee could sense that he had injured his lieutenant's pride. Jackson had been the darling of the Richmond newspapers, and dead he had been immortalized into an icon that it was impossible to compete against

"No, nor am I asking that. We have an opportunity here. I want this action pushed, and I am counting on you to see that it is done."

Pete looked back, almost longingly, at the hills he had hoped to dig in on.

"General," Lee asked softly, "if you were Meade, would you attack us here?"

Pete did something that was a rare sight He smiled and then shook his head. "No, sir. Not here. The ground is too good."

Lee smiled and, turning Traveler, trotted back up the hill to where the staff waited expectantly. Taylor came forward, grinning, holding up a dispatch.

"It's from Stuart" Taylor announced triumphally. "One of the couriers you ordered sent out yesterday morning just reported back in. Stuart was riding toward Carlisle. He is turning about He'll be here by this evening, and his lead brigade should be in by midnight"

Lee felt a wave of relief. The decision of several nights back to aggressively seek Stuart to take more direct control, was bearing fruit He looked over at Longstreet who nodded, as if the final point had been won.

"Colonel Taylor, it's obvious that battle has been joined, not where we planned, but Providence has ruled differently. Pass the order to all division and corps commanders. Press the action toward Gettysburg and seize the high ground overlooking the town."

He could sense the ripple of excitement sweep through his staff. He nudged Traveler and then turned to look back. "Be certain to return the table and chairs to their proper place, Walter."

Returning to the road, he turned east heading toward Gettysburg.