Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [190]
The Federal threats to the Southern coast had never been serious enough to warrant Lee splitting up his army. He had found this part of the Confederacy a convenient place to send those commanders who had proven they were not fit to lead large armies in times of major crisis. Gustavus Smith, Chase Whiting, and even Beauregard, whose ego did not mix well with Lee’s style, were in command in various regions along the coast. But with the new threat, Lee knew he had to send someone who could hold the line against a serious advance, and at the same time hold the various Confederate commands together into some sort of cohesive unit, not governed by each general’s temperament.
He had first responded to the Federal move by sending Daniel Hill to North Carolina, to organize new volunteers into some sort of effective defense. Additional troops had been sent down under General Robert Ransom, and while Lee knew that neither man had proven himself in independent command, both were diligent and trustworthy soldiers. The detachments from Lee’s already outnumbered army, which still looked across the Rappahannock at the massive Federal force, did not satisfy the agitation that the new threat had given Jefferson Davis. Davis believed the threat to Richmond called for a more drastic response, and so, despite Lee’s small numbers, Davis insisted the army be divided further, and that a much larger force be sent to southern Virginia.
THERE HAD been snow again, a few inches, and the hills and fields were again a solid white, a clean blanket for the fresh graves and torn earth of the great battle. Lee walked along his hill, Taylor behind, and the gun crews came alive, stood suddenly, shaking off the cold, a show for the commander which he did not need. He raised his hand, nodded to the men, and hats were raised, cheers went down the line. The sounds carried below, to the troops in their cold-weather camps, and the men crawled out from snow-covered hideaways, knew what the sound meant. No matter how often they saw him, they would give up the small warm place in the ground to see him again.
He moved back over the hill, dropped down behind the lines, saw a huge fire. There were few big fires now, there was no wood left, the trees and fences long gone. The men had formed details, hauling firewood over the rough country roads from farther and farther away. As the army sat in one place, it pulled at the country like some great dirty sponge, soaking up a widening circle of food and fuel.
The big fire was slowing, and the men saw him coming now, more cheers, and now he saw it had been a wagon; one spoke wheel leaned crookedly from the edge of the black ash. There was one officer, a captain Lee did not know, and the man was hesitant, saluted with a glance toward the fire, and Lee nodded, did not speak, did not ask if the wagon was usable or not.
He stood close to the shrinking heat, looked at the men who spread along the far side of the fire, away from him. They would not get too close, though more than once, when he would ride through the camps, someone would approach, carefully, a dirty hand extended, just to touch him, to touch the horse. He did not understand that, it always embarrassed him, but he rarely stopped them, left that to the officers or his staff, who might keep the men away with a shout, or the empty threat of a raised sword. He stared beyond the fire now and saw the faces of the men, the faces of his grand and wonderful army. Now there were more faces, to the side, behind him, men gathering from all directions, all along the hill, and he looked out, to all the dark eyes that watched him quietly, and he felt his throat tighten, could not swallow, fought it, said a silent prayer, Thank You, for the love of these men. Yes, he thought, I love