Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [198]
The men responded, the voices rising, and Chamberlain held up his hands again, said, “If we’re going to have a fight soon, then we are going to miss it. I have no say in this. General Hooker himself knows of our predicament. I did volunteer us . . . that we be allowed to lead the attack. If we were to infect the enemy, it might be an effective way to end the war.” There was laughing and men nodded.
“But the high command did not think it a practical and humane strategy. Wars should be fought by noise and violence, not by subtle diseases. So . . . we will stay behind.”
He began to move through them, and their protests faded, the officers breaking them up, moving away. He reached his tent, heard a sound, music, listened. It was a band, far out on the road, leading another column of men away. The sounds faded, and he thought, So, we will miss this one, and maybe . . . there will not be any more, maybe it will end here, one more great fight. And we can go back home and say . . . nothing. We weren’t there. He leaned into the tent, realizing what a terrible thing it was to hope for . . . that the war go on just so they could be a part of it. But he could not help it, sat on his cot now, stared at the side of the tent, remembered the stone wall, the smoke, the screams. His heart began to pound, and he thought, Please, someday, let us have one more chance. . . .
43. HANCOCK
Thursday, April 30, 1863
HE HAD been wrong about the pontoons. They would be used again, were already in place when he led his division to the site, the wide clearing along the river. There had once been a bridge here too, at this place called, strangely, United States Ford. As at every good crossing, the bridges were long gone, small burnt memories lingering in crooked shapes. But here there was no opposition, no hidden muskets on the far bank, and the men crossed quickly and easily, and Hancock knew they were ready for a fight.
Hooker had done for the army what Burnside could not. He had put them into position, quickly, with efficient use of engineers and time; put them into position to crush Lee’s army from the rear. The plan was basic military logic: keep Lee occupied by a large force, Sedgwick’s corps crossing the Rappahannock again below Fredericksburg, threatening to move across the same fields where Jackson had defended against Meade, while Hooker moved the larger bulk of the army upriver, to the shallow fords. By occupying all three of the main crossings, the army would move with more speed, down separate roads, converging due west of Lee’s position, to his rear. With pressure then from Sedgwick, Lee would be caught along his row of hills in a vise grip of nearly 140,000 Federal troops.
By now Sedgwick was in place, a formidable blue mass that was already on Lee’s side of the river, and their complete parade-ground visibility would clearly demonstrate that it was a large enough force to hold Lee in place, a threat he could not ignore.
Hooker had given the army something else besides another good plan. In the months of waiting, while the ground hardened and the warm air of spring filled the valley, the army had been trained constantly, their diet improved. He did away with Burnside’s system of Grand Divisions, bringing back the more efficient corps system. And, knowing the sad state of troop morale, Hooker devised a symbolic, though effective means of instilling pride. Each corps was given its own identifying insignia, with the color of that insignia reflecting the specific divisions. The new insignias were sewn on the soldiers’ hats, and the response was immediate and positive. The men eagerly accepted this small bit of identity, and the officers knew that in the heat of battle, it would be much simpler for the men to stay with their own units, or locate them after the fight.
The new commander also dealt with