The Killer Angels - Michael Shaara [114]
We have always been outgunned. Our strength is in our pride.
But they have good ground. And they have fought well. On home ground.
He saw a man coming toward him, easy gait, rolling and serene, instantly recognizable: Jeb Stuart. Lee stood up. This must be done. Stuart came up, saluted pleasantly, took off the plumed hat and bowed.
“You wish to see me, sir?”
“I asked to see you alone,” Lee said quietly. “I wished to speak with you alone, away from other officers. That has not been possible until now. I am sorry to keep you up so late.”
“Sir, I was not asleep,” Stuart drawled, smiled, gave the sunny impression that sleep held no importance, none at all.
Lee thought: here’s one with faith in himself. Must protect that. And yet, there’s a lesson to be learned. He said, “Are you aware, General, that there are officers on my staff who have requested your court-martial?”
Stuart froze. His mouth hung open. He shook his head once quickly, then cocked it to one side.
Lee said, “I have not concurred. But it is the opinion of some excellent officers that you have let us all down.”
“General Lee,” Stuart was struggling. Lee thought: now there will be anger. “Sir,” Stuart said tightly, “if you will tell me who these gentlemen …”
“There will be none of that.” Lee’s voice was cold and sharp. He spoke as you speak to a child, a small child, from a great height. “There is no time for that.”
“I only ask that I be allowed—”
Lee cut him off. “There is no time,” Lee said. He was not a man to speak this way to a brother officer, a fellow Virginian; he shocked Stuart to silence with the iciness of his voice. Stuart stood like a beggar, his hat in his hands.
“General Stuart,” Lee said slowly, “you were the eyes of this army.” He paused.
Stuart said softly, a pathetic voice, “General Lee, if you please …” But Lee went on.
“You were my eyes. Your mission was to screen this army from the enemy cavalry and to report any movement by the enemy’s main body. That mission was not fulfilled.”
Stuart stood motionless.
Lee said, “You left this army without word of your movements, or of the movements of the enemy, for several days. We were forced into battle without adequate knowledge of the enemy’s position, or strength, without knowledge of the ground. It is only by God’s grace that we have escaped disaster.”
“General Lee.” Stuart was in pain, and the old man felt pity, but this was necessary; it had to be done as a bad tooth has to be pulled, and there was no turning away. Yet even now he felt the pity rise, and he wanted to say, it’s all right, boy, it’s all right; this is only a lesson, just one painful quick moment of learning, over in a moment, hold on, it’ll be all right. His voice began to soften. He could not help it.
“It is possible that you misunderstood my orders. It is possible I did not make myself clear. Yet this must be clear: you with your cavalry are the eyes of the army. Without your cavalry we are blind, and that has happened once but must never happen again.”
There was a moment of silence. It was done. Lee wanted to reassure him, but he waited, giving it time to sink in, to take effect, like medicine. Stuart stood breathing audibly. After a moment he reached down and unbuckled his sword, theatrically, and handed it over with high drama in his face. Lee grimaced, annoyed, put his hands behind his back, half turned his face. Stuart was saying that since he no longer held the general’s trust … but Lee interrupted with acid vigor.
“I have told you that there is no time for that. There is a fight tomorrow, and we need you. We need every man, God knows. You must take what I have told you and learn from it, as a man does. There has been a mistake. It will not happen again. I know your quality. You are a good soldier. You are as good a cavalry officer as I have known, and your service to this army has been invaluable. I have learned to rely on your information; all your reports are always accurate. But no report is useful if it does not reach us. And that is what I wanted you to know. Now.” He lifted a hand. “Let