The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [41]
The sounds of the battle had grown strangely quiet, and there was a new sound, voices, shouts, men now flowing up the Post Road toward him, others appearing out of patches of woods, across open fields. There were no British soldiers, just his own men, and they ran toward him with blind panic, stumbling into the road just below him, closer still. Though some were calling out, short gasps of warnings, curses, he could see many others were deathly silent, the faces staring straight ahead, purposeful, their fear driving them toward some imagined sanctuary, some place of safety they might never find. He could hear orders, hard commands from officers, trying to turn their men around, but then the officers were running as well, few stopping to form any kind of line. Washington was stunned by the sight, for a long moment just stared, felt a rising sickness. But then they began to move past him, some stumbling into the road right beside him, and now he called out to the staff gathered behind him, “Stop them! Hold them back!” He turned the horse sideways, and the aides did the same, blocking the road. He drew his sword, raised it high, began to shout as they forced their way past, “Stop! Hold here! Do not run! There is no danger!”
The wave of men parted around him, oblivious to any order, the shouts from the staff ignored as well. One man came straight toward him, launched himself into the horse’s flank, Washington holding hard to the reins, the man staring through him, unseeing, blinded by his own terror. Washington raised his sword, the man still scrambling to push his way past, and Washington brought the flat of the sword down on the man’s back, but the man slipped by and was quickly gone. There were more now, some still keeping to the road, but others had simply spread out into the fields around them, slowed only by their own exhaustion.
He heard new shouts, could see down the crossroad to the west, a column of his troops, saw General Mifflin, the Pennsylvanian. Mifflin was already ordering his men into the road in front of Washington, screening the commander from the tide of panic. Washington pointed with the sword toward a long low stone fence, said, “General, move your men into line. Take the wall!” Farther to the west, the stone framed a field of tall corn, and he rode that way, guiding more of Mifflin’s men, said, “Take the cornfield! It will provide cover! Make ready!”
Mifflin was pulling his horse along with the flow of his men, putting them in place, and Washington felt a burst of relief, Finally, a fighting man, troops who can face the enemy. Thank God. More of his men were arriving now, the militia who had been up to the north, along the river, guarding the landing places that Howe had ignored. Washington guided them into place as well, the men lining up along fences that spread out to the east, some crouching low against rocks, muskets at the ready.
There were still refugees coming toward them, men staggering into the road, more of the panic. He could see there would be no fight in those men, and he shouted, “Let them pass!”
He pulled the horse beside the road, waved his sword, some of the men now walking, their energy gone. He saw faces looking at him, recognition, some of the men stopping to stare at him through the sweat and dirt on their faces.
“Take your position with these men! There is no enemy! You are not being pursued!”
His staff took up the same call, and some of the men seemed to understand, others collapsed to the ground, having run as far as their terror could take them. A few still had muskets, but only a few, and he saw more of them awakening to the moment, aware now of the growing strength of their own army. Slowly, they began to move to the fence lines, joining the fresh troops, the courage returning.
Mifflin’s men were fully in place, and behind him, still other units were advancing, more strength. Washington directed them back behind the first troops, a second line of muskets. The officers had control now, and he moved his horse out into the Post Road, stared to the south, expecting