Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [159]
Sumner looked at the man, did not change his expression. “We are not ready to cross, Colonel. Tell General Franklin that he can begin his own crossing at his convenience. We will move across when we can. We have a bit of a problem up here.”
“Well, sir, General Franklin has not been successful in convincing General Burnside that he should not wait. General Burnside has expressed to General Franklin that the army move together. I was there, sir, when General Burnside said that we should . . . ‘sweep across as one mighty wave’ . . . sir.”
A smile escaped from the man’s face, and Sumner said nothing.
The man cleared his throat, said, “General, if I may return to General Franklin, I will advise him of your situation.”
Sumner nodded, and the man saluted, turned his horse and began to push again through the lines of men.
Hancock looked at Couch, questioning, and Couch shook his head, looked at Sumner. Sumner turned again toward the river, to the clearing scene on the far side. The houses could be seen now, and the impact of the shelling.
Sumner said, “They are still there.” He turned to Couch, said, “Pick some men who know how to row a boat. Send them across directly, with good speed. It might help to clear out those damned riflemen.”
Couch said, “Immediately, sir,” and Hancock saw his expression, a sudden flood of energy. Hancock turned his horse, his men clearing a path, and Couch moved quickly down toward the river.
The regimental commanders were assembled, and Hancock gave the instructions. Within minutes men were filling the pontoons and the wide boats were moving out into the river. Hancock watched them from the bank, saw the small flashes coming from the far side, from small holes under piles of debris, the sharpshooters still in place. More boats moved out from the shore, farther up, the oars breaking through the thin ice, and the rifle fire came across the river again, aimed this time at the boats. But the pontoons were heavy and the men kept low, and soon boats had reached the other side, men pouring up the banks into the town. Now the firing did not come across the river. Rebel soldiers began to appear, emerging out of their holes, moving back through the streets. There were more orders, loud voices beside him, and the engineers started forward again, the workers moving with new courage, without their officers prodding them.
Hancock rode back up the hill, glassed farther down the river, could see Franklin’s bridges stretching across the still water, saw no troops, no lines of blue. There was no crossing. He thought, Another day, we have lost another day.
It was after dark before Sumner’s men could begin moving into town. Howard’s division crossed as ordered, and set up camps in the streets. But the army had run out of time, and Hancock’s men would have to wait until the next morning, and so he lay on his blanket, staring past the walls of his tent, thinking about the sharpshooters across the river, the small brigade that had kept eighty thousand men from moving all day. Outside, the fog began to fill the valley again, and across the way more gray troops arrived to fill the high ground.
32. JACKSON
December 11, 1862
HE DID not like digging trenches, but put his men to work all down the line. They did not have Longstreet’s great advantage of the steep hill, the stone wall. They were in the trees, mostly thick woods, and so they cut and dug and piled tree limbs and dirt, and soon they would be ready. The flat plain in front of him was nearly two miles across, and there was no cover, and so when Sumner’s engineers were being killed by Barksdale, Jackson could only watch as Franklin’s engineers did their work, laying their pontoons across the icy water. He had wanted to advance, place a line of rifles along the bank, but the Federal guns on Stafford Heights made that impossible.