The Killer Angels

The rest was clear as an engraving, so natural there seemed no alternative. There would be no surprise now; speed no longer mattered. So motion meant nothing. The enemy had been attacked on both wings; he had reinforced there and would be strongest there. So the weak point was the center.

The enemy had high ground on each wing, but in the center there was a long slope. So he would be softest there, and if you hit him there with everything you had, all the artillery firing to prepare the way in a pont au feu, if you sent Pickett’s fresh Virginians straight up the center with Longstreet’s hand the guiding force, the dominant force, you would drive a split in the center and cut Meade’s army in two, break the rotten wall and send the broken pieces flying in all directions, so that if you sent Stuart’s cavalry around to the rear he could complete the rout, in among the wagons to finish the wreckage, yes, Stuart raw with -wounded pride and so anxious to redeem himself that he would let nothing stop him, and neither would Pickett, who had come in that day so desperately eager for battle.

Lee knelt and began to pray. His engineer’s mind went on thinking while he prayed. He could find no flaw: we will go up the center and split them in two, on the defense no longer, attacking at last, Pickett and Hood and McLaws. By the end of the prayer he was certain: he felt a releasing thrill. This was the way, as God would have it. Face to face with the enemy, on grounds of his own choosing. End with honor.

The weight of it was gone. He felt a grave drowsiness.

The horse nuzzled his ear; he smiled and rubbed the delicate nostrils. Then he began to drift off. He should go into bed now, but he was not comfortable lying down; he could not breathe. It was far better to sit in the night alone with the beautiful horse standing guard above him. It was not so bad to be an old man, drifting. Soon to see the Light. He wondered what it would be like to enter the Presence. They said there would be a fierce blinding light. How could they know, any of them? He wondered: Do you see all the old friends? At what age will they be? Will I see my father?

But it was all beyond him, and he accepted it. He had done his best: the Lord knew it. The heart thumped twice, a grave reminder. Lee nodded, as if at a summons, and prayed to the Lord for a little more time. After a while, he slept. He dreamed of little girls, dancing a cotillion. Then he dreamed of horses, herds of great horses, thundering by through black canyons of cloud. Beyond his tree, as he slept, the first blood light of dawn was rising up the sky.

FRIDAY, JULY 3, 1863

of His terrible swift sword…

1. CHAMBERLAIN.

At dawn he climbed a tree and watched the day come. He was high on the summit of Round Top, higher than any man in either army. The sky was thick and gray, smelling of heat and rain; long mists drifted down between the ridges, lay in pools in the woods, rose toward the sun like white steam. He could see campfires burning in groups and clusters, like little cities sparkling in the mist, far, far off toward the blue hills to the east. He could look directly down on the gray crest of Little Round Top, saw the gu

The men lay below him in a line below the crest, receding down into the trees, the dark. In the night they had built a stone wall, had set out pickets, had taken prisoners. They had been joined at last by the 83rd Pe

He almost dozed. Came awake. Need someone to talk to. Sky all thick and gray. Rain? I hope so. But no, another scorcher. They don’t know about this kind of weather back in Maine.

”Colonel?” At the foot of the tree: Tom. Chamberlain smiled.

”Hey, Colonel, I got you some coffee.”

He held aloft a steaming cup. Chamberlain’s stomach twinged in anticipation. Tom clambered up, reaching.

Chamberlain took the hot cup, held it lovingly. “Oh, that’s fine. Where did you find that?”

”Well…” Tom gri

”Don’t swear,” Chamberlain said automatically. He thought of yesterday. I used him to plug a hole. My brother.

Did it automatically, as if he was expendable. Reached out and put him there, as you move a chess piece.

”We sent out a detail,” Tom said cheerily, yawning, “and found some poor departed souls down there and they were carrying coffee for which they had no more use, so we took it.”

Chamberlain grimaced. “Ghoul,” he said. But he drank, and the coffee was sweet with brown sugar, and strength boiled into him.

”How you feel. Colonel, sir? You notice I don’t say ‘Lawrence.’”

”I feel fine.”

”You know, I bet we’re higher than anybody in the whole army. In both blame armies.” Tom was pleased. “Now there’s a thing to tell your children. My, what a view.”

Chamberlain drank. After a moment he said, without thinking, “I miss old Buster.”

”Kilrain? Yep. But he’ll be all right.”

The vacancy was there, a hole in the air, a special kind of loneliness. You wanted to have Buster to talk to when it was all over, to go over it, to learn, to understand, to see what you should have done.

Tom said, “You know, Lawrence? I close my eyes, I fall asleep.”

”Better get down off the tree.”

”You know what?”

”What?”

”I don’t like bayonets.” He squinted at Chamberlain, shrugged foolishly, blinked and yawned. “One thing about war I just don’t like. Different, you know? Not like guns and ca

Chamberlain nodded.

”I couldn’t use mine,” Tom said ashamedly. “Yesterday. Just couldn’t. Ran down the hill, yelling, screamed my head off. Hit one man with the rifle barrel. Bent the rifle all to hell, pardon me. But couldn’t stick nobody. Didn’t see much of that, either. Am glad to say. Most men won’t stick people. When I was going back and looking at the dead, weren’t many killed by bayonet.”