Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [134]
Chamberlain turned, and Ames rode past him, into the columns of men, and gave the command to the bugler. With the signal, the men moved quickly off the road. Then Ames rode up again, toward the front of the column, slowed his horse as he reached Chamberlain, said, “Colonel, keep them tight, keep them ready. I am to survey the field to our front.”
Chamberlain watched him ride away, up the long hill, turning his horse to the side behind the rows of black cannon. The guns began to fire again, a loud and thunderous volley, and the hill became a great, thick fog bank.
He stayed on his horse, saw now across the road, on the left, vast numbers of troops, lines disappearing into a distant grove of trees, and the men not moving, keeping their formations. He rode out the other way, to the right, into the grass, saw more troops farther out that way, a great field of blue, waiting. He looked to his own men, saw the companies staying in their formations, coming off the road, and he rode up to the head of one column, saw Captain Spear of Company G, a small, sharp man who had also been a teacher. He had a narrow, thick beard, sat on a horse, watched Chamberlain approach, puffed on a large round pipe.
“Well, Colonel, do you think we will get our chance?”
Chamberlain looked back to the crest of the hill, could still not see through the smoke, and another volley thundered out, shaking the ground, startling his horse again.
“Whoa, easy . . . We’ll see, Captain. Right now we must be ready . . . be ready to move forward on command!” He felt a little foolish, a vague order, felt again as if he were left out, didn’t know what was happening. The battle sounds had continued to the northwest, and he wondered, Are they moving away, around us? He glanced at Spears, said, “I’ll be right back . . . just going up the crest a ways, take a look maybe.”
“We’re right here, Colonel.”
He turned the horse, then decided to dismount instead. This wasn’t a parade. He jumped down, felt his belt, his pistol, began to walk toward the thick cloud of smoke.
The guns continued to fire, every minute or so, and he wondered, How far away is the enemy? There had been no explosions, no incoming shells, none of the sounds he’d been told about, coached about, by Ames, just the deadening thunder of their own big guns.
The smoke began to envelop him, and he kept moving. Suddenly he could not breathe, felt suffocated by the thick smell of burnt powder. He stopped, coughing hard, tried to see, caught a glimpse of one gun, saw men moving around it like ghosts, and then, abruptly, they all moved away and the gun fired, jerking backward with the recoil. He felt his ears deaden, shattered by the sound of the blast. He went farther, was moving up between the guns now, and suddenly the smoke cleared in front of him, a light breeze sweeping up the far side of the rise, blowing the smoke away to the rear. Down below he saw the wide, flat plain, farms and roads and trees, cornfields and small distant buildings. And to the right, far across the curving lines of the creek, there was more smoke, great, flat clouds of white and gray. The sounds of the battle were steady and loud now, and on either side of him the big guns boomed again, the shock knocking him off his feet.
He lay on soft grass, thought, I’m hit . . . then, No, but I’m damned near deaf. He raised his head, could still see down, the fields and woods. Now, from the sounds of the battle, he saw his first troops, thick lines of blue, uneven and ragged formations, moving toward a cornfield, and then smoke, solid lines of gray, and in a few seconds the sound reached him, the chattering musket fire, and the blue lines were in pieces, men moving back, some still advancing, some not moving at all. He saw more lines now, solid blocks of blue spreading wide, advancing, and more smoke, and more sounds, and then, farther away, a glimpse through the smoke, other lines of men, some moving,