Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [208]
Sykes looked at Hancock, then back to Couch, and around them men were yelling, angry and defiant. Sykes started to say something, waved his arm again, and Couch raised his voice, said with a dark anger, “There will be no further discussion! You will carry out your orders, General!”
Sykes nodded, looked at Hancock, and Hancock could not stay still, pulled his horse away and moved back down the hill, toward his own troops. Behind him officers were giving the commands to Sykes’s men, and suddenly there were horses moving quickly by him—Couch and his staff riding hard, back to the west, toward the headquarters of their commanding general.
HE MOVED by reflex, his mind in a fog as he directed his men through the small clearings east of the Chancellor mansion. They still faced toward the enemy, had now joined alongside Sykes. He gave the new orders, and the company commanders supervised the labor—trenches and earthworks were dug, trees cut.
His division was now fully deployed, and Hancock rode back along the road, toward the Chancellor mansion. He still did not believe it had happened; there had to be something else, some major piece of the puzzle missing, some great disaster. Of course, it could have been Sedgwick. Perhaps Sedgwick had been beaten back across the river. Longstreet could have returned; his divisions could have surprised Sedgwick from the south. And there was Meade, up along the river. There could have been a major obstacle there, something unexpected. But—and there were many buts—there had been no sounds of battle, no distant rumble of guns from Fredericksburg. Meade had not been engaged, the sounds would have been clearer still. He caught himself, realized this had happened before. McClellan had often done it, magnified Lee’s strength into huge numbers, great numbers of the enemy everywhere at once, had talked himself into seeing the ghosts of an army that wasn’t there. But today they were there, Hancock thought. We were right in front of them, and there weren’t that many . . . it was our field. And we gave it back to them. Now Lee will move his guns up to that high ridge, will look down on us while we sit tight in our trenches, wondering what to do next.
Hancock reached the grand house, saw officers standing in small groups, men leaving on horses, others arriving. He climbed down, moved slowly, heavily, up to the porch. A guard opened the door, and Hancock saw blank and pale faces, then heard voices, loud and angry. His mind cleared and he moved in noisy steps on the hard floor, went into the large living room, the room with the chandelier. Couch was waving his arms in the air, red-faced; and sitting behind a large table, Joe Hooker.
Hancock did not hear what Couch had said. He stared at Hooker, surprised, did not see anger. The clean-shaven face was staring up at Couch with a small, weak smile. Suddenly Hooker stood up, looked around the room, looked at Hancock without seeing him, looked past several other men, said, “It is all right, General Couch. Gentlemen, it is all right. I have got old Bobby Lee right where I want him. Now he will have to come to us, on our own ground!”
Couch stood still for a moment, then abruptly turned and moved quickly toward the door. He passed Hancock, saw him, a quick glance of recognition, and Hancock followed him outside.
Couch went to his horse, and his aides began to gather. He looked at Hancock, said, “He ran out of nerve. When he learned that we had run into opposition, he stopped believing in his own plan. He just ran out of nerve. Meade . . . Meade had nearly reached Bank’s Ford . . . unopposed, when he was called back. Howard’s corps never even had time to leave their camp. Sedgwick still doesn’t know what happened. Now we’re digging in . . . as though Almighty God Himself is leading an army against us!”
Hancock wanted to say something, knew Couch was as angry as he had ever seen him, and Couch put a hand up on his horse, grabbed