Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [116]
But Lee knew something had changed, there was a new darkness in Longstreet’s eyes, in his moods, and Lee tried to understand it. The cause seemed obvious at first. During the previous winter, while his family was staying in Richmond, all four of Longstreet’s children had contracted a fever. Within a few days three of them died. All of Richmond was shaken by this news, and no one expected that he would return to duty so quickly, resume command of that part of the army that would play such a large part in turning McClellan away.
Lee had heard the earlier stories, the poker playing, the long nights of drinking and bawdy storytelling, and he could not believe any of that, did not see those things in this big, dark man. There was a hollowness, a deep opening in the man’s soul, and Lee had wanted to talk about that, to be of some . . . comfort. He didn’t know if Longstreet was particularly devout, had never heard him mention God, thought, If he knew that God is with him, that all of this . . . his tragedies, are part of a Plan . . . But there was never the right moment; the two men did not share that kind of close conversation. To Lee, that sort of closeness had never been easy, but he’d grown very fond of Longstreet, was not even sure why, and so wanted to do . . . something. They often were together now. Longstreet seemed to gravitate toward Lee’s headquarters, but the conversations were brief and military, strategy and planning, and Lee sensed an edge, as though Longstreet held himself in some tightly bound, angry place. Longstreet seemed to know it himself, and Lee began to hear more caution in his planning, more need to avoid the big risks.
Jackson was very different. Lee had come to understand that if left alone, Jackson held nothing back, would operate with a fury and an anger that was simple and straightforward. He was given credit for military genius. The newspapers referred to him as the greatest general in either army, though Jackson never seemed to pay attention to that kind of praise. Around Lee he was like a young child, eyes wide, eager to please the fatherly Lee, and so Lee had learned to treat him that way. But he did not see just a child. He saw a very strong and dangerous animal that would do whatever you asked him to do, with complete dedication and frightening efficiency.
Lee did not know how Longstreet and Jackson felt about each other. There had never been a dispute, or any other reason to examine their relationship. Longstreet clearly considered himself the ranking officer, which technically was true: his commission had come first. Jackson had often deferred to that seniority when the two were together, but Longstreet understood Jackson’s value, and if he thought Jackson reckless and headstrong, he did not express it to Lee.
The strength of the forces under the two generals was now nearly equal, due mainly to the transfer of Ambrose Powell Hill’s division from Longstreet’s command to Jackson’s. A. P. Hill was a difficult, moody, and egotistical man, and a dispute had arisen between him and Longstreet after the Seven Days’ battles. A correspondent for the Richmond Examiner had written glowing and exaggerated accounts of Hill’s role in the army’s confrontations against McClellan, indicating that Hill’s division was responsible for most, if not all, of their successes. Longstreet responded angrily by authorizing his chief of staff, Major Moxley Sorrel, to write a letter to a rival newspaper, the Whig, setting the record straight. After heated and nasty correspondence between Hill and