Killer Angels, The - Michael Shaara [137]
"Dick, for God's sake and mine, get down off the horse."
Garnett said, "I'll see you at the top, Lo."
He put out his hand. Armistead took it.
Armistead said, "My old friend."
It was the first time in Armistead's life he had ever really known a man would die. Always before there was at least a chance, but here no chance at all, and now the man was his oldest friend.
Armistead said, "I ought to ride too."
Garnett said, "Against orders."
Armistead looked down the long line. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"
Garnett smiled.
Armistead said, "They never looked better, on any parade ground."
"They never did."
Armistead heard once more that sweet female voice, unbearable beauty of the unbearable past: it may be for years, it may be forever. Then why art thou silent... He still held Garnett's hand. He squeezed once more. Nothing more to say now. Careful now. He let the hand go.
He said, "Goodbye, Dick. God bless you."
Garnett nodded.
Armistead turned away, walked back to his brigade. Now for the first time, at just the wrong time, the acute depression hit him a blow to the brain. Out of the sleepiness the face of despair. He remembered Longstreet's tears. He thought: a desperate thing. But he formed the brigade. Out front, George Pickett had ridden out before the whole Division, was making a speech, but he was too far away and none of the men could hear. Then Pickett raised his sword. The order came down the line. Armistead, his voice never strong, bawled hoarsely, with all his force, "All right now, boys, for your wives, your sweethearts, for Virginia! At route step, forward, ho!"
He drew his sword, pointed it toward the ridge.
The brigade began to move.
He heard a chattering begin in the ranks. Someone seemed to be trying to tell a story. A man said, "Save your breath, boy." They moved in the tall grass, Garnett's whole line in front of them. The grass was trampled now, here and there a part in the line as men stepped aside to avoid a dead body, lost the day before. Armistead could still see nothing, nothing but the backs of the troops before him. He saw one man falter, looking to the right, gray-faced, to the sergeant who was watching him, had evidently been warned against him, now lifted a rifle and pointed it that way and the man got back into line.
The Northern artillery opened up, as if it had been asleep, or pulled back to lure them in. Massive wave of fire rolled over from the left. Pettigrew was getting it, then on the right batteries on the Rocky Hill were firing on Kemper. Garnett not yet really touched. Nothing much coming this way. But we didn't drive off any Yankee guns. Win's doing. He made them cease fire, knowing soon we'd be in the open. Guns to the left and right, nothing much in the center. Garnett's doing well.
He began to see. They were coming out into the open, up to where the ground dipped toward the Emmitsburg Road. Now to the left he could see the great mass of Pettigrew's Division, with Trimble coming up behind him, advancing in superb order, line after line, a stunning sight, red battle flags, row on row.
Could not see Pettigrew, nor Trimble. The line must be a mile long. A mile of men, armed and coming, the earth shuddering with their movement, with the sound of the guns. A shell exploded in Garnett's line, another; gaps began to appear. Armistead heard the sergeants' hoarse "Close it up, close it up," and behind him he heard his own men coming and a voice saying calmly, cheerily,
"Steady, boys, steady, there now,