The Killer Angels

Johnston Pettigrew: handsome, fine-featured. An intellectual. Very few intellectuals in this army. He had attended the University of North Carolina and they talked of his grades there with reverence and awe. Curious thing, Longstreet thought. He smiled slightly. Here’s our intellectual, Pettigrew, going into battle side by side with old Pickett, last in his class. He chuckled. The men were watching him, sensing his mood. They seemed to see him grin. Longstreet looked at Pettigrew.

”They tell me you’ve written a book.”

”Sir? Oh, yes, sir.” Firm sound to the voice, clear calm eye. Lee thinks the world of him. He will do all right.

”What was it about?”

”Oh, it was only a minor work, sir.”

”I’ll have to read it.”

”You will have a copy, sir, with my compliments.” To Longstreet’s surprise, Pettigrew rose, summoned an aide, dispatched the man for the book.

Longstreet gri

”At your leisure, sir.” Pettigrew bowed formally.

Longstreet looked at Isaac Trimble. He was breathing hard, face red and puffy, a bewildered look to him. He had a reputation as a fire-breather. He did not look like it. His beard was fully white, his hair puffed and frizzled. Well, Longstreet thought, we shall see.

Pickett came up, joined the circle. Introductions were u

Longstreet began to understand that the old man was deeply moved. When he was done with the orders Longstreet drew the alignment in the dirt:

They all understood. Then Longstreet rose and walked out to the edge of the trees, out into the open, for a look at the Union line. He pointed to the clump of trees. There were a few minor questions. Longstreet told them to keep that clump in sight as they moved back to their troops, to make sure that there was no confusion. The attack would guide on Pickett. More minor questions, then silence. They stood together, the four men, looking up at the Union line. The mist had burned away; there were a few clouds, a slight haze. Hill’s guns had stopped; there was a general silence.

Longstreet said, “Gentlemen, the fate of your country rests on this attack.”

All eyes were on his face. He put out his hand.

”Gentlemen, return to your troops.”

Pettigrew took his hand. “Sir, I want to say, it is an honor to serve under your command.”

He moved off. Trimble took the hand. He was crying. He said huskily, tears all down the red glistening cheeks, “I want to thank you, sir, for the opportunity you have given me, sir, to serve here. I have prayed, sir.” He stopped, choked. Longstreet pressed his hand. Trimble said, “I will take that wall, sir.”

Pickett stayed. Longstreet said, “George, can you take that hill?”

Pickett gri

”Sir, General Hill’s artillery is dueling the Union people for some damned barn, sir, excuse me, but it’s a tragic waste of ammunition. We don’t have a limitless supply.”

Longstreet said, “Give General Hill my compliments and tell him I suggest he reserve his ammunition for the assault.”

Alexander rode off.

And so it’s in motion.

Seminary Ridge was thick with trees, but the fields on both sides were bare. Pickett’s troops were begi

Lee was coming back down the line, aides preceding him, to keep the men from cheering. Alexander’s guns were moving, realigning; horses were pulling caissons into position, stirring the dust. Lee was trim and calm, all business. He suggested they ride the lines again. Longstreet agreed silently. Pickett rode up, asked to accompany them. All the attack would guide on Pickett; it was necessary there be no mistake at all. The three men rode together along the front of the dark woods, in front of the ca

He could begin to see it. When the troops came out of the woods the artillery would open up. Long-range artillery, percussion and solid shot, every gun on the hill. The guns to the right, on the Rocky Hill, would enfilade the line. The troops would be under fire with more than a mile to walk. And so they would go. A few hundred yards out, still in the open field, they would come within range of skirmish-aimed rifles. Losses would steadily increase. When they reached the road they would slow by the fence there, and the formation, if it still held, would begin to come apart. Then they would be within range of the rifles on the crest. When they crossed the road, they would begin to take canister fire and thousands of balls of shrapnel wiping huge holes in the lines. As they got closer, there would be double canister. If they reached the wall without breaking, there would not be many left. It was a mathematical equation. But maybe the artillery would break up the defense. There was that hope. But that was Hancock up there. And Hancock would not run. So it is mathematical after all. If they reach the road and get beyond it, they will suffer fifty percent casualties. I do not think they will even reach the wall.

Lee asked his advice on artillery support. Longstreet gave it quietly. They rode back down the line. A quietness was begi

Longstreet thought: it isn’t God that is sending those men up that hill. But he said nothing. Lee rode away Pickett said earnestly, “Sir, how much time do we have?”

Terrible question. But he did not know what he was asking. Longstreet said, “Plenty of time. The guns will fire for at least an hour.”

Pickett slapped his thighs.

”It’s the waiting, sir, you know? Well, sir, I think I’ll have the troops lie down. Then I’ll write to Sallie. You’ll see it’s delivered, sir?”

Longstreet nodded.

Pickett rode off.

Nothing to do now but wait. The guns were in line, the caissons were stacking shot, the gu