Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [140]
“No, General Meagher, your concerns . . . are good ones. We have all been taught how to follow orders. I just wish someone was back there who understood opportunity. I have been in this position before, General. I watch this army fight and maneuver itself into great advantage, and then we just stop, as though someone, somewhere, does not truly believe we can finish this. I am loyal to General McClellan because he is our commander. I have always believed he knows what is best for this army, what is best for his troops. That’s why the men love him . . . he is their general. And that may be his problem. He may love them too much.”
“I don’t know about much of what goes on back there, sir, under those big tents. But my men, General, these tough old micks . . . they been watchin’ each other get shot up for over a year now, and it seems that nothin’ ever comes from it. General, forgive me for sayin’ it, but these soldiers . . . they would have won this war by now if it weren’t for the generals, maybe me included.”
Hancock laughed quietly, but the humor passed quickly. “I expect Mr. Lincoln might agree with you.”
LEE RETURNED to central Virginia, moved his forces into the fertile comfort of the Shenandoah Valley. McClellan remained around Sharpsburg and Antietam Creek for over a month before the prodding from Washington had an effect. Lincoln himself had come to McClellan’s camp, pushing him to make some pursuit of Lee’s bloodied army, and so by the end of October, McClellan finally started the chase. While Lee’s escaping army had crossed the Potomac in one night, McClellan took eight days. And now, while he marched slowly and carefully down the Blue Ridge, Lee had time to move east, placing Longstreet between the Federal Army and Richmond, so that McClellan would again stall, and begin the persistent calls to Washington for more troops.
November 1862
“WELL, GENTLEMEN, I feel we have little to fear of old Robert Lee now! Look, outside!”
Hancock turned, with the others, saw what McClellan was pointing to: snow. It had turned colder all day, and the army camp had begun the first preparations for winter quarters. The troops had started digging the small square pits over which they would build whatever form of shelter they could find. There were mixed feelings about the winter break. Some of the men welcomed the rest, the opportunity to write letters, play cards, nurse sore feet or small wounds. Others despised the waiting, the weeks of inactivity, and, if the weather was bad, the necessity of staying cramped together inside these small, makeshift shelters.
Hancock watched the new snow, thought, We have waited for over a month, and now here is the first honest excuse. Behind him the large, single room was glowing from the warmth of a large fire. One end of the simple house was a huge stone hearth, framing an enormous firebox. As the fire grew, the men had begun moving away, toward the other end of the long room. They were all familiar to Hancock, mostly generals, brigade and division commanders of the Second Corps, who were camped near McClellan’s headquarters. Most had come through the recent campaigns weighed down with a sense of self-defeat, and privately, each man believed he had done the best that could be done, as though it was no one’s fault. Excuses filled every conversation: the weather, the ground, the government, some mysterious power that seemed to be with Lee. No one talked now of the end of the war, there were no longer any grand predictions, no more fat boasting to the newspaper reporters. The sense of gloom was affecting the troops as well, spreading out through the entire army. But tonight, here, the mood was oddly buoyant. Men were laughing and talking, and McClellan himself sat on an old wooden chair, behind a crude table, smoking a cigar, the center of attention. A bottle of brandy had made its way around the room, was emptied, and another had appeared, began the same route.
Hancock knew the faces, men mostly around his age, many with long careers, and now some tough experience, and he did not feel