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Longstreet got down from his horse. He was very, very tired. He walked toward a cool grove of trees. Sorrel and Goree followed, but Longstreet waved them away. He sat with his back against a tree, put his head in his hands.
There is one thing you can do. You can resign now. You can refuse to lead it.
But I ca
Ca
Ca
He closed his eyes. From a tree close by Colonel Fremantle saw him, thought he was resting before the great battle, could not help but wonder at the enormous calm of the man. What an incredible time to go to sleep!
3. CHAMBERLAIN.
Past Little Round Top the ground dipped down into a saddle but the line ran straight, unbroken, along the saddle and up the ridge, rising toward the trees and the cemetery, that northern hill. The line was a marvelous thing to see: thousands of men and horses and the gleaming Napoleons, row on row, and miles of wagons and shells. Marching along the crest, they could see back to the Taneytown Road and the rows of tents, the hospitals, the endless black rows of more ca
The lieutenant who was their guide was a dapper young man named Pitzer, who liked to gossip, to show that he was privy to great secrets. He had a ru
Pitzer said conversationally, “We very nearly retreated this morning.”
”Retreated? Why?” Chamberlain was aghast.
”Meade wanted to pull the whole army out. Had a meeting of corps commanders last night. He really did.” Pitzer sneezed emphatically. “Damn ragweed. Happens every sum-“ He exploded again, plucked out a bright red handkerchief, wiped his nose, his wheezy eye, gri
”What was the vote?”
”Well, hell, all the corps commanders voted to stay. I mean the only one felt like pulling out was Meade. General Meade,” he added thoughtfully, eyeing Chamberlain. Never knew how to take these civilian colonels. “It was unanimous. Meade had ‘em write it out, so it’s all on record. I was watching through a window, saw the whole thing, even old Sedgewick asleep. Now there’s an officer.
Him and Hancock.” Pitzer shook his head admiringly, wheezing. “Hancock was something to behold. He says they’ll come again one more time and we ought to be right here waiting.”
”He says they’ll come again? Hancock?”
”Yep.”
”Where did he say they’d come?”
Pitzer gri
Pitzer said, pointing, “That’s Meade’s headquarters, over there. Position of your regiment will be back there, down near the road. You’ll be in reserve behind the crest. Don’t have to dig in, but don’t go way.” Pitzer led them down the grass, pointed to a flat space just above the road, the masses of guns and wagons, in plain sight of the headquarters. “Here it is. Colonel. I’m to place you here. Colonel Rice will be by in a bit. Says you are to report to General Sykes later on.” He saluted, sneezed, wandered off, in no great hurry, wiping his nose.
Chamberlain placed the regiment. They sat in the field, in the sun. There were questions about rations. Chamberlain thought: All those wagons down there, there ought to be something. He sent Ruel Thomas out to scrounge. Brother Tom went off to find the hospital, to see how the boys were, to see how Buster Kilrain was getting along. Chamberlain smelted coffee, the lovely smell of cooking chicken. He tried to follow his nose, was interrupted by another odor. He climbed a stone fence, knee high, saw a shallow depression filled with dead horses, dragged there to get them off the crest, legs and guts and glaring teeth, begi
A rider. Man stopped before him. Chamberlain squinted upward. Message from General Sykes. Would like the pleasure of Colonel Chamberlain’s company.
Chamberlain squinted. “Where is he?”
The rider indicated the crest, trees at the far end. Chamberlain said, “Haven’t got a horse, but I guess I can make that.”
He staggered to his feet. The rider, solicitous, hopped down, offered him the horse, led the animal by the bridle, making Chamberlain feel boyish and ridiculous. Chamberlain took the reins, woke Ellis Spear, told him to take over. Spear agreed blearily. The messenger led Chamberlain up the crest.
Past a clump of trees to his left the view opened. He could see a long way down across open fields to a road, a farmhouse, a long sweep of wheat rising up to green woods on the far ridge, at least a mile off. Lovely country. Heat shimmered on the road. Chamberlain thought: must be ninety. Hope my next war is in Maine. Where I will fight dreamily. Owe her a letter. Soon. Kids be playing now. Sitting down to lunch. Eating-cold, cold milk, thick white bread, cheese and cream, ah.
He rode up into the shade of the trees. Sitting there ahead… was Hancock.
Chamberlain perked up, straightened his uniform. He had seen Hancock only a few times, but the man was memorable. Picture-book soldier: tall and calm, handsome, magnetic. Clean white shirt, even here, white cuffs, hat cocked forward slightly jauntily, shading his eyes. He was sitting on a camp stool, gazing westward intently. He moved; his arm came up. He was eating a piece of chicken.