The Killer Angels

”Your attack will be preceded by massed artillery fire. A feu d’enfer. We will concentrate all our guns on that small area. When the artillery has had its effect, your charge will break the line. The rest of Hill’s people will be waiting. Stuart has already gone round to the rear.”

Lee turned. Now the excitement was in his eyes. He leaned forward, gazing at Longstreet, hoping to strike fire, but Longstreet said nothing, stood listening, head bowed.

Lee said, “Those three divisions… will give you fifteen thousand men.”

Longstreet said, “Yes, sir.” He stared at the ridge. He said suddenly, “Hancock is up there.”

Lee nodded. “Yes, that’s the Second Corps.”

Longstreet said, “Hard on Armistead.”

Lee said, “You can begin at any time. But plan it well, plan it well. We stake everything on this.”

”Sir?” Longstreet thought: I can’t. “Sir,” Longstreet said, “you are giving me two of Hill’s divisions, only one of mine. Most of the troops will be Hill’s. Wouldn’t it be better to give the attack to Hill?”

Lee shook his head. He said, “General, I want you to make this attack.” Longstreet took another deep breath. Lee said, “General, I need you.”

Longstreet said, “Sir, with your permission.”

Lee waited. Longstreet spoke and did not want to look him in the face, but did, spoke looking at the weary face, the ancient eyes, the old man who was more than father of the army, symbol of war. “Sir, I have been a soldier all my life. I have served from the ranks on up. You know my service. I have to tell you now, sir, that I believe this attack will fail. I believe that no fifteen thousand men ever set for battle could take that hill, sir.”

Lee raised a hand. Longstreet had seen the anger before, had never seen it turned toward him. It was as if Longstreet was betraying him. But Longstreet went on: “It is a distance of more than a mile. Over open ground. As soon as we leave the trees we will be under the fire of their artillery. From all over the field. At the top of the hill are Hancock’s boys-“

Lee said, “That’s enough.”

He turned away. He called Taylor. For a long moment Longstreet thought: he is relieving me. But Lee was sending for someone. Longstreet thought: he should relieve me. He should give it to A. P. Hill. But he knew Hill could not take it, no one could take it; there was no one else Lee could rely on, nothing else to do. It was all set and fated like the coming of the bloody heat, the damned rising of the damned sun, and nothing to do, no way to prevent it, my weary old man. God help us, what are you doing?

Not thinking clearly anymore, Longstreet composed himself. Lee came back. Lee said calmly, “General, do you have any questions?”

Longstreet shook his head. Lee came to him, touched his arm.

”General, we all do our duty. We do what we have to do.”

”Yes, sir,” Longstreet said, not looking at him.

”Alexander is handling the artillery. He is very good. We will rely on him to break them up before Pickett gets there.”

”Yes, sir.”

”Heth is still too ill for action. I am giving his division to Johnston Pettigrew. Is that satisfactory to you?”

Longstreet nodded.

”Pender is out of action, too. Who would you suggest for the command there?”

Longstreet could not think. He said, “Anyone you choose.”

”Well,” Lee meditated. “How about Isaac Trimble? No one in the army has more fight in him that Trimble.”

”Yes,” Longstreet said.

”Good. Then that’s agreed. Pettigrew, Pickett, and Trimble. The new commanders won’t really matter, in an attack of this kind. The men will know where to go.”

He went over the plan again. He wanted to be certain, this day, that it all went well, laying it all out like the tracks of a railroad. He was confident, excited, the blood was up. He thought the army could do anything. Longstreet felt the weariness, the heat of the day. The objective was clear. All fifteen thousand men would concentrate, finally, on a small stone wall perhaps a hundred yards wide. They might break through. It was possible.

Lee said, “The line there is not strong. Meade has strengthened both his flanks; he must be weak in the center. I estimate his strength in the center at not much more than five thousand men. The artillery barrage will upset them.”

”Yes, sir.”

”Is there anything you need? Take whatever time you need.”

”I have always been slow,” Longstreet said.

”There is no one I trust more.”

”If the line can be broken…” Longstreet said.

”It can. It will.” Lee paused, smiled.

”If it can be done, those boys will do it.” Longstreet moved back formally, saluted.

Lee returned the salute, tall, erect, radiating faith and confidence. He said slowly, the voice of the father, “General Longstreet, God go with you.”

Longstreet rode off to summon his staff.

What was needed now was control, absolute control. Lee was right about that: a man who could not control himself had no right to command an army. They must not know my doubts, they must not. So I will send them forward and say nothing, absolutely nothing, except what must be said. But he looked down at his hands. They were trembling. Control took a few moments. He was not sure he could do it. There had never been anything like this in his life before. But here was Pickett, wide-eyed, curious, long hair ringed and combed, mounted on a black horse, under a great tree.

Longstreet told him the orders. Pickett whooped with joy. Longstreet let him go off to form his troops. He looked at his watch: not yet noon. It would be some time yet. He sent for the other officers, for Porter Alexander. The fight on the far left was dying; Ewell was done. There would be no support there. He felt a moment of curious suspension, as when you have been awake for a long time you have certain moments of unreality, of numbness, of the begi

”Sir, ah, we seem to have upset Colonel Walton. He has just reminded me that he is the senior artillery officer in this Corps.”

Longstreet moved out to the edge of the trees. He indicated the limits of the attack, where the fire should converge. He explained it slowly, methodically, with great care. The Union ca

”Sir? Ah, twenty-six, sir.”

Longstreet nodded, looked into the unlined face, the bright, dark, anxious eyes. Best gu

”Sir? Well, sir, I don’t know about that, sir.”

”Well,” Longstreet said. He thought: I’m seeking reassurance. Let it go. He said, “I am relying on you, son.”

”Yes, sir.” Alexander bobbed his head several times, kicked the turf. “I’ll sure keep ‘em shootin’, sir.”

”Don’t open fire until I give you the word, until everything’s in position. Then fire with everything you have. Get yourself a good observation point so you can see the damage we’re doing. We’ve got to drive some of those people off that hill. If we don’t do that… I’ll rely on your judgment.”

A great weight to put upon him. But nothing else to do.

Alexander saluted, moved off. Here came Sorrel, bringing with him, on horseback. Generals Pettigrew and Trimble. Longstreet greeted them, sent for Pickett. He got down from his horse and walked over to the open space on the ground where the staff had spread the camp stools, and asked for coffee. They sat in a circle, lesser officers at a distance, almost in files, by rank. Longstreet wore the expressionless face, drank the coffee, said nothing at all, looked at them.