Gods and Generals - Jeff Shaara [51]
“Yes, sir. Most difficult, sir.”
“It should be. Damned difficult. These people are American citizens. Imagine, Colonel, what kind of courage it takes to make that decision. I happen to believe that you have that courage.”
“Thank you, sir. But I have never—”
“Colonel, they don’t believe I can run this department anymore, that my days are numbered. But—they don’t know how to run it either.”
“They . . . ?”
“The President. The new administration. Let me tell you, Colonel, they have their hands full of troubles. Full. This man Lincoln . . . good man, I think. If he gets the chance to . . . well, if the radicals don’t drown him out . . . There’s quite a few people around here that think old Davy Twiggs is a traitor, would have him shot. Would probably have had all of them shot. Probably wouldn’t have hesitated, like you just did.”
“But . . . why?”
“Who knows, Colonel—moral outrage, the love of country, the damned flag? People like to be inflamed, get their dander up, and the problem is, it’s too easy. It’s too easy to make a speech up in New York and scream about killing the rebels when you don’t have to look ’em in the eye. Hell, Colonel, you’ve seen men die. It’s not something you get all fired up to enjoy.”
“No, sir. But I believe there is some of that same . . . passion in the South. I saw it in Texas, men who just want to fight, to strike out at something, you can see it in the eyes.”
“That’s what I like about Lincoln. He’s done his damnedest to keep all sides of this apart, find a solution, make everybody happy. Hell, he’s a politician, that’s what they’re supposed to do. The problem is, Colonel, it isn’t working. Not this time. And that too is why you’re here.”
Lee sat up, straightened his back, looked at the hard old face.
“I need some help, Colonel. I need a second in command. The President hasn’t told me directly, but he will. He will come to me and with that politician’s smoothness, that comforting look, he will say that I am too damned old to run this army, that things are likely to get out of hand faster than a feeble old soldier can handle. And, Colonel, he may be right.”
“Sir, I know of no one in this army more qualified—”
“Colonel, I’m seventy-five years old. I wake up each day with new pains, new weaknesses. I’ve got this great big office, with these damned great big windows, and you know what happens when the sun shines in here in the afternoons? I take a damned nap. Fall asleep, right here in this chair. Can’t help it. You should see your friend Keyes out there when somebody important calls. He peeks in first to make sure I’m awake.”
Lee could feel Scott’s mind moving away, drifting from the subject, and he saw the anger, Scott’s disgust for politics, for Washington. He remembered President Polk, the long arm of the administration reaching down to Mexico, trying to control Scott, to fight a politician’s war. It was no way to handle a good soldier, not then . . . not now.
“General, you are offering me . . . a position as your second in command?”
“What? Oh, yes, Colonel. There’s going to be a great deal more trouble with this rebellion before much longer. A great deal. You familiar with Fort Sumter? Charleston?”
“Yes, sir. I spent some time in that area, before Mexico.”
“Well, Mr. Lee, the President is going to use Fort Sumter as the justification, the spark that lights the powder.”
“I’m not sure I understand, sir.”
“The army still controls the fort—Major Anderson there hasn’t been as gracious to the rebels as your General Twiggs. So far, it’s been a standoff. But they’re running out of supplies. I have advised the President to withdraw the men, pull out of the fort. It’s a regrettable move, another surrender, if you will, but for the time being it will preserve the peace. But the President is going to send down a ship, into the harbor, not to evacuate, but to resupply the troops. I can’t argue with the fact that it is Federal property, but, Colonel, there are a number of rebels in Charleston sitting on some very big guns who aren’t going to let that