Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [236]
Hancock stayed on the turnpike, watched the stream of blue move over the wide fields, past their own guns, still firing, punching holes in the advancing lines of Lee’s army, slowing the pursuit. To the south one division was holding a solid line, a rear guard, withdrawing more slowly than the others. It was Geary, of Slocum’s corps, and now he was being flanked. The lines had broken, and they came out of the brush in a run, guided by the high column of smoke from the big house. Hancock knew it was time to pull his own people in, back along the ridge, wrap their lines across the wide field, hold the advancing rebels away until the army could reform itself behind him, protect the crossings at the river.
Below him, along the creek, Miles was still holding out. There had been no breakthrough there, but he had sent the word down: withdraw, move up to the trenches on the ridge.
He waited, watched the trees below, and they were not coming. He looked for a courier, the staff following him closely now, yelled out, “Go down there, repeat my order to withdraw! No delays . . . they could be cut off!”
The man saluted, a young lieutenant, began to gallop down the rise. Then Hancock saw horses, and a blue line emerging from the trees, and behind the horses, men were carrying a litter. The lieutenant reached them, turned, waved back at Hancock, and he spurred the horse and moved down. Shells began to fall around him, up behind, along the trenches, and he knew Lee’s guns were closing in.
Hancock reached the horses, did not think, just followed the man’s wave, pointing, and he saw officers, a captain, and the man saluted him, ran up to the horse.
“General, Colonel Miles is wounded, sir. . . .”
He jumped from the horse, moved to the litter. Miles was black with mud, his face barely recognizable, and he saw Hancock now.
“General . . . why are we pulling out, sir? The line is strong. . . .” He turned his head away, and Hancock saw the blood, the front of his uniform, a dark stain flowing down onto the litter. Hancock looked to the captain, saw no answers. They were waiting for him to say something, and he looked below, into the trees, saw Miles’s men coming, moving slowly up the hill.
He said to his lieutenant, still on the horse, “Find the surgeon! Now! Tend to the colonel!” The man pulled the horse away, galloped up toward the crest of the hill. Now Hancock looked at the others, saw another officer, a familiar face, and men were stopping around him. They had heard that Miles was down, most had not seen him until now.
“Gentlemen, we must not delay. Keep the units in line, rejoin the division. We are the rear guard. We are covering the retreat.” He paused, saw muddy faces and no expressions, and he could not let it go, had to tell them.
“You men performed as well as any army ever has. Officers . . . tell your men, make sure they all know this. You did not lose this fight! The soldiers . . . in this division, in other divisions . . . you did not lose this fight! I am honored to command you.” Miles raised an arm, and Hancock stared down, surprised, did not know he was still conscious. And Miles put a dirty hand to his forehead, made a weak salute. Hancock turned, suddenly could not look at him. There was nothing he could say. He climbed onto the horse, spurred it hard, moved quickly up the hill.
BLUE TROOPS were still coming up from the south, and there was little order, men running alone and in small groups. Now the musket fire was growing, and men were falling. Hancock could not yet see, but knew from the sounds that Lee’s advance was closing in, a tightening circle in the thick brush. He stayed on his horse, moved behind the new lines, could see the last of the flames from the mansion below him, now out in front of the lines. The guns were pulling away behind him, could no longer support his troops, the fight was coming in too close. He watched the muskets, bayonets pointing out, all down the line. They were not firing, no targets yet, and then he saw horses, officers, a fast gallop toward his lines, more men in blue. There