Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [143]
Burnside’s second decision was to abandon the pursuit of Lee’s army through central Virginia, and instead make a sudden surprise move to the left, to the southeast, along the Rappahannock River, crossing below Lee’s army, placing the Federal Army between Lee and Richmond. Burnside assured the President that this would bring a speedy end to the war, as Richmond would fall before Lee could react. The place he chose to make the crossing was the town of Fredericksburg.
THEY HAD marched for two days, wound their way along the high banks of the Rappahannock River. Hancock rode at the head of his division, and today Couch rode with him. They were in the lead, and would reach their destination before dark, the town of Falmouth, across the river from Fredericksburg.
The weather had warmed slightly, and Hancock rode without his heavy coat. The men moved at a good pace, knew the march was a short one, stepped through a layer of mud on the road that gradually deepened as more of the army passed. Couch had said little, stared away, toward the other side of the river.
“There’s a few more.”
Hancock looked across, saw gray-clad troops at what had been a bridge crossing, burned timbers now poking at angles out of the water. There was a shot, then two more, and Hancock turned around and watched the column. The men did not break ranks, kept up the smooth march, and now a small squad of skirmishers formed along the bank, fired back across at the rebel troops, and they quickly vanished.
“I wonder if Lee knows by now.”
Hancock looked at Couch, said, “I expect he does. I heard earlier, a report of some cavalry watching us. Probably Stuart’s men. They’re keeping an eye on us.”
“I have to admit,” Couch said, “I think this might work. If we can get across the river quickly, move down toward Richmond . . . Lee will have a problem.”
Hancock thought of Lee, tried to form a picture, had only seen him once since Mexico, at a party in Washington. He was a quiet Southern gentleman, graceful and proper, and he had given Mira some advice, had told her to go with her husband to California, to keep the family together. It was a brief conversation, but there was a quiet sincerity to the man that had caught Hancock’s attention, and the advice had an impact on Mira as well. She had not told him of her doubts about going to California, but revealed something in conversation to Lee, and Lee’s words carried a sadness, an awareness of what his own career as a soldier had cost him. Now, Hancock tried to see the face, wondered how Lee might have changed, what it was that made him such a good leader. So much has happened, he thought, we never could have known it would become this bloody insanity.
He thought of Albert Sidney Johnston and their last night, the party at his home. Johnston had already pulled away before he left California, his loyalties had already made him cautious. He was the first to understand that he was to be the enemy, and now Johnston was dead. Mira had written him, relaying the story from the papers, a battle at a place called Shiloh. There will be more, he thought, more familiar names, and he tried to stop it, said to himself, Do not do this. But he could not avoid it, saw now the rugged face of Lew Armistead. He’d heard little about him, knew he had been with Longstreet in the Seven Days’ battles, but there was no real news. And he thought of Couch’s words: “We all have our jobs to do. And our job now is to move this big damned army as fast as we can, and outsmart Robert E. Lee.”
From down the road a rider came up, saw the colors behind them, pulled his horse alongside and saluted. “General Couch, sir. I am Major Spaulding, of the Engineering Corps. I am to guide your column into position