Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [233]
Now all the batteries were firing, and the ground was shaking under him. He steadied the horse, tried to see. The wide fields around the house were alive with the impact of the shells, and smoke covered most of the hill. Federal batteries began to answer, from new positions beyond the house, and around them a few shells were beginning to land. He turned to Alexander, said, “Colonel, this is your hill. You know what to do.”
Alexander was smiling, said, “If you happen to see General Hooker, please thank him for this wonderful gift.”
Stuart nodded, smiled, began to move the horse, would move back up to the north, toward the turnpike. He thought, I must try to form them . . . some kind of line, press them forward. Then he saw riders coming from the east, moving out of the woods, into the clearing. They were officers, men in gray. He stopped, waited, then spurred the horse, rode hard toward them, waved the hat high.
“General Lee!”
He pulled up, jumped from the horse, made the low bow, and Lee said, “Well, I did not expect to find you up here. Very well, General. It seems we have joined the two corps. Anderson’s division is below us now, and I believe they have located General Heth’s flank. How is the fight here, General?”
Lee was not smiling, and Stuart stood at attention, said, “Sir, we have pressed the enemy hard. We have beaten him back from his defenses, but . . . we are outmanned, sir. They have pushed us back.”
“We are always outmanned, General. We need to press on.” He stopped, saw now the focus of the guns, saw Alexander riding up.
“This is a fine position, Colonel. Your guns will do good work from here.”
Alexander saluted, was still smiling. “We will do our best, General.”
Lee looked down at Stuart, who reached for the horse, pulled himself up, said, “General, perhaps I should return to my . . . to General Jackson’s troops.”
Lee nodded. “That would be a wise decision, General. Press them. Press them hard.”
Stuart saluted and moved the horse away, back down the wide hill, where the guns continued to fire in a steady rhythm.
Lee watched him, thought of Jackson now. The mention of his name sent a hard, dull pain through his chest. We have lost many . . . so many, he thought, and God does not judge one man better than the next. But I cannot help it. Dear God, You must save General Jackson. This army has no better man.
Lee put it from his mind, would not see the face, the sharp blue eyes, stared out in the direction of the cannon fire. He raised his field glasses, saw the house, burning now, tall flames and black smoke, and he thought, General Hooker has lost his headquarters, and so he must move, and when he moves, he will take the army with him.
52. HANCOCK
May 3, 1863. Late morning.
THEY HAD been pressed since first light, heavier waves coming out of the woods to the east, and it was clear that no one had retreated from in front of his division.
The fight was coming now all along their lines, down, across the front of Slocum’s position, then in a wide arc to the right, in a wide U-shaped front, and from the crest of the ridge he commanded he could hear the worst of it back behind him, toward the west.
He had put the young Colonel Miles in command of the first lines, had given him enough troops to spread out in a heavy skirmish line all along his front, dug into their muddy trenches. Lee’s troops had pushed and charged and sent volley after volley against them, and Miles did not break. This part of the line will hold, Hancock thought.
He rode along the crest, down toward his flank and the junction with Slocum, heard more steady musket fire and a few big guns. He saw Slocum, who