The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [233]
The swirl of men around Lee seemed to settle into a strange paralysis, and Lafayette said, “I will find out, sir.”
He had no orders, spurred the horse away from the huddled couriers, rode along a narrow strip of high ground. The field beyond was now a mass of troops, a solid line of white and brown. He reached the field, rode hard, the horse skipping through short grass, saw horsemen near the crest of the hill, moved that way. He would not allow himself anger, not yet, the ground in front of him too near an eruption of chaos. He could see Wayne, shouted as he reined the horse, “What is your situation, General?”
“My situation? See for yourself! The enemy is pulling away! They’re giving ground, and we haven’t begun the attack! Do you have orders? Are we to attack?”
He could see beyond the lines of Wayne’s men, scattered groups of red, some moving behind fences, others slipping into patches of woods. Far up on the main road, a column was advancing, flags and horses, more British troops moving to the field. My God, the time is . . . now! We should reinforce these men! He gripped the reins in frustration, said, “We have no orders, General Wayne! General Lee is concerned you are too far in advance!”
“Too far . . . ? By damn, send me another brigade, and I will sweep the enemy off this ground! What manner of plan is there?”
Lafayette could see the faces of the men, the good troops watching him, hearing the words of their commander.
“I have nothing to tell you, General Wayne, except . . . in the judgment of General Lee, you are in the wrong position.”
“Well, then, sir, you may go back to General Lee and advise him I will correct my error.”
Wayne spun his horse around, moved out in front of his men, shouted, “Do you see the enemy?”
The line erupted into a loud cheer, and he caught Wayne’s eye, a quick nod, the man now turning away, his sword in the air, his troops moving in one sharp line toward the uncertain formations of the British.
Lafayette would not watch, knew that Wayne was right, but it was only one brigade, and the enemy would surely re-form. He pulled the horse back toward the ravine, his heart pounding in his ears, thought, Lee has no plan! There is no plan at all! He is sending orders to men he has never met, to troops he has never seen, in positions he has not scouted. God help us, this day may depend on the brigadiers, after all!
The fight was beginning along Wayne’s front, more of the British units coming into line. He drove the horse furiously along the pathway, could see a rising cloud of smoke sweeping across the field, drifting toward the deep ravines.
Far to his right, a new line of British troops was advancing, bayonets forward, and he held up the horse, searched for Wayne, could see a swath of white in the field, a burst of smoke and flame, volley after volley finding targets Lafayette could not see. The fresh British troops began to shift position, seeking their avenue into the fight, and Lafayette was suddenly jolted by a sharp blast, grabbed the horse’s mane, pulled himself around. There were cannon now, guns firing across the ravine, more guns unlimbering, turning into position. They began to fire in regular rhythm, and he pushed the horse down into the low ground, then climbed up, the sulfur smoke choking him. He reached the level ground again, could see Knox moving among