Killer Angels, The - Michael Shaara [41]
Then Reynolds was back.
The Rebel shells were beginning to pass overhead. They had seen new troops coming and some of the fire was falling now on Gettysburg. Reynolds summoned another aide.
"Lieutenant, get on into town and tell these people to stay in off the streets. There's liable to be a fair-sized dispute here today, and give anyone you meet my compliments, along with my suggestion that every person stay indoors, in cellars if possible, and out of harm's way. Especially children."
He peered at the aide. "Joe, how do you see with those things on?" The aide wore glasses that were very muddy. He took them and tried to clean them and smeared them with jittery fingers. A shell hit a treetop across the road and splinters flickered through the grove and spattered against the brick wall.
Reynolds said pleasantly, "Gentlemen, let's place the troops."
He motioned to Buford. They rode out into the road.
Buford felt a certain dreamy calm. Reynolds, like Lee before him, had once commanded the Point. There was a professional air to him, the teacher approaching the class, utterly in command of his subject. Reynolds said, "Now, John, he's got a good fifteen thousand men out there, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes. Be a lot more in a little while."
"Yes. Well, between us we can put almost twenty thousand in the field in the next half hour. We're in very good shape, I think."
"For a while," Buford said.
Reynolds nodded.
He turned in his saddle, looked back toward the hills.
"Isn't that lovely ground?" he said.
"I thought so."
"Keep at it, John. Someday, if you're spared, you may make a soldier." He bowed his head once slightly. It came over Buford like a sunrise that he had just received Reynolds' greatest compliment. At that moment it mattered very much. "Now," Reynolds said, "let's go surprise Harry Heth."
They rode out together, placing the troops. The First Corps moved into line on the left. The Eleventh Corps moved in behind them, swung out to the right.
Through all that the Reb cannon were firing steadily and smoke was filling up the hollow between the armies and no one could see the motion of the troops.
The Eleventh was still not in line when the new Reb attack came rolling up out of the smoke. Reynolds moved off to the left, close to the line.
Buford heard music, an eerie sound like a joyful wind, began to recognize it:
"The Campbells Are Coming." He recognized Rufus Dawes and the Sixth Wisconsin moving up, more Wisconsin men behind them, deploying in line of skirmishers and firing already as they moved up, the line beginning to go fluid as the first Reb troops poured over a partly deserted crest, and met the shock of waves of new troops coming up from the south.
Buford got one last glimpse of Reynolds. He was out in the open, waving his hat, pointing to a grove of trees. A moment later Buford looked that way and the horse was bare-backed. He did not believe it. He broke off and rode to see. Reynolds lay in the dirt road, the aides bending over him. When Buford got there the thick stain had already puddled the dirt beneath his head. His eyes were open, half asleep, his face pleasant and composed, a soft smile.
Buford knelt. He was dead. An aide, a young sergeant, was crying. Buford backed away. They put a blanket over him.
Off to the left there was massive firing. There was a moment of silence around them. Buford said, "Take him out of here."
He backed off. Across the road a woman was