Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [201]
He had heard enough, quickly opened the door, passed by eavesdropping guards, stepped down away from the light. He climbed up onto the horse, moved the big mare along the road, thought of the ridiculous boasting, daring God to stop them, felt suddenly very sad. He tried to convince himself it did not have to depend on those men . . . the real success could still come from the good work of these good soldiers. We do have the numbers, he thought, and we may have indeed surprised Bobby Lee. He rode on toward the camps of his men, thought of Hooker’s words, wondered if Lee would ever be pursuaded to “ingloriously fly.”
44. LEE
April 30, 1863
HE WAS still on the hill, looked down toward the river, to the spreading mass of blue, a force too strong to be a simple diversion. But they were not coming, not advancing toward the woods where Jackson’s men waited, again.
Jackson was watching him, sat on a log, then stood, felt the itch of the new fight, paced for a moment, then sat again. Lee walked alone, still stared at Sedgwick’s troops, then turned and moved back up to the crest of the hill, toward Jackson’s impatience.
“That is not the main attack,” Lee said. “They are waiting for something.”
“We should punish them, now. Hit them before they can get set.”
He turned to Jackson, saw the fire, the violence in the sharp face. “No, General, the guns, remember the guns. They are still on Stafford Heights, it would be a costly advance if we showed ourselves across that plain. It is no different now than it was in December. We must wait for them.”
Jackson looked toward the far hills, across the river, knew of course that Lee was right. He put his hands behind him and his shoulders sagged slightly.
Lee said, “General, I must know where the rest of them have gone. We must wait for General Stuart. Sedgwick has come across with only one or two corps. Hooker would not repeat Burnside’s plan. Do not focus your energies on those troops.”
It was not a command, but the softer advice, a father to an overeager son. Lee understood the impatience: the target was in plain sight, open and vulnerable. That was exactly why he did not believe it, did not believe Hooker would attack with just those troops.
Stuart had observed heavy columns moving above the river, out to the northwest, and Lee knew they would cross somewhere upstream, as they should have done in December. To the north and slightly west of Lee’s left flank lay Bank’s Ford, where the river made a sharp U downward, and he understood that there must be no crossing there, it was dangerously close to his rear, and so he had strengthened that position, sent Anderson’s division back, off the hills.
Richard Anderson commanded one of the two divisions of Longstreet’s corps that had stayed with Lee, and Lee knew that though Anderson was not one for ingenuity, he could be counted on to stand his ground. Lee had instructed him to push out farther west, as far as the next major crossing, United States Ford. It was there that Anderson met the first of Hooker’s strong columns, advancing southward. As instructed, he pulled back, and now was spreading his division in a north-south line, protecting both Bank’s Ford and the two main roads that led from Chancellorsville straight into Lee’s position. But Lee still did not know how many troops Hooker was pushing across the river there, or just where they might be heading.
Jackson was still frustrated, paced again. The meeting seemed to be over, and he looked for his horse, was ready to return to his troops, and Lee held up his hand, said, “General, please, sit down. We can do little else until we hear—”
There was a shout, the voice of Taylor, running along the hill. “General . . . it’s Von Borcke, Major Von Borcke!”
Lee saw him now, the huge form riding with some difficulty up the side of the hill. He was on a large black mule, and the mule seemed intent on moving in other directions