Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [101]
PART
TWO
20. LEE
July 1862
IT HAD been just seven days, the last of June and the first few days of July. Each day had brought a new fight, at places they would remember as Frayser’s Farm and Gaines Mill, Mechanicsville and Malvern Hill. The armies fought and struggled and moved about and made blind and stupid mistakes and brilliant and heroic attacks, and for both sides the losses had been staggering. But now McClellan had pulled his army back down the peninsula, away from Richmond, and in Washington his political enemies had their day. He had not taken Richmond, despite fighting battle after battle, though he had not once been truly defeated or even driven from the field. McClellan had pulled away by his own choice, backing toward the safety of the big gunboats, escaping from demons that Lee did not command.
Lee knew he had missed an opportunity, that McClellan in his retreat had repeatedly left himself open to assaults at a variety of places, but Lee had discovered his own army’s weakness, his reliance on his commanders, and those commanders had not always been up to the task. Troop movement was inconsistent, communications were poor, attacks had been uncoordinated. The great weakness of choosing generals through politics had shown itself, and now, with McClellan tightly bound away from Richmond, Lee finally had both the authority and the breathing space to reorganize the army.
His headquarters was at the home of an old woman, the widow Dabbs, whose large house sat in the midst of an old, underused farm. His office was one of the smaller rooms, at the back of the house, and he had his own entrance so he could go outside when he chose, to slip away when he needed the rest or to just take a short walk.
The room reminded him of his office at Fort Mason, small and plain, the low ceiling and close walls, with one small window, but outside, he faced a stand of thick trees, saw the rolling green hills he loved. Beyond, the narrow, soft roads led out toward the bloody fields.
It had been a long day, couriers moving rapidly in and out, officers moving through the little office in a steady stream. Major Taylor had learned, had grown into the job, and Lee was grateful for the endless flood of minute details Taylor handled, diverting them from his attention.
For the first time, the army began to acquire an identity. Johnston had commanded units that he felt were his alone. Other generals not directly associated with Johnston’s command, such as Magruder, incorporated their own aura of political importance to the running of their commands. Thus, the army had been a group of smaller armies, where coordination and communication was a matter of both ego and convenience. Lee understood the necessity of eliminating the independence of division commanders, and thus formed a system over which he had more control, and more confidence. Longstreet had been the backbone of the Seven Days’ battles, had shown an ability to both move his troops and carry the fight, and Lee felt an instinctive trust for his abilities. Jackson had not performed as well during the series of fights, but Lee knew him well enough to know that given a specific task, there was no one who would move forward with more energy or ruthlessness. These qualities persuaded him to place Longstreet and Jackson in command of two large wings, bringing the various division and brigade commanders closer together and under his central authority. Others, men who simply had no place leading large numbers of troops, were removed, delegated to commands in distant fronts, out of harm’s way.
The most immediate difference between Lee and Johnston, however, came in Lee’s communications with Davis. Lee sent a continuing stream of messages to the President, kept him informed all through the Seven Days, and now passed along messages of all kinds, from important command decisions to the more mundane. Lee knew this would put Davis in a better frame of mind, and though Davis insisted on providing him with constant advice, Lee knew that simply by the existence