The Killer Angels - Michael Shaara [120]
He thought: a little food. A little rest. They’ll be right again in a bit. Fewer than two hundred now. And there on the rock, sitting staring down at the long line of dark men shapeless under dark trees, he felt for the first time the sense of the coming end. They were dwindling away like sands in a glass. How long does it go on? Each one becoming more precious. What’s left now is the best, each man a rock. But now there are so few. We began with a thousand and so whittled down, polishing, pruning, until what we had yesterday was superb, absolutely superb, and now only about two hundred, and, God, had it not been for those boys from the Second Maine … but the end is in sight. Another day like yesterday … and the regiment will be gone. In the Union Army that was the way it was: they fought a unit until it bled to death. There were no replacements.
He shook his head, trying to shake away the thought. He could not imagine them gone. He would go with them. But if the war went on much longer … if there was one more fight like yesterday …
The sound of the battle in the north grew steadily in intensity. Chamberlain, alone, wished he knew anything at all about what was happening. He could not even talk to Ellis Spear, who was down in the woods with the other flank of the regiment, where it joined the 83rd. He waited, alone, staying awake, listening. After a while there was a courier from Rice. He saw a puffing lieutenant staggering up among the rocks.
“Colonel Chamberlain? Sir, that’s some climb.” The lieutenant paused to gasp for air, leaned upon a tree.
“My men need rations, Lieutenant,” Chamberlain said. He stood up on his bloody foot, boot in hand.
“Sir, Colonel Rice instructs me to tell you that you are relieved, sir.”
“Relieved?” Men were gathering around him. Sergeant Tozier had come up, that big-nosed man, towered over the lieutenant, gloomed down at him.
“Colonel Fisher’s people are coming up, sir, and will take over here. Colonel Rice informs me that he wishes to compliment you on a job well done and give your people a rest, so he wants you to fall back, and I’m to show you the way.”
“Fall back.” Chamberlain turned, looked around the hilltop. He did not want to go. You could defend this place against an army. Well. He looked at his tree, from which he had watched the dawn.
He gave the word to Tozier. The 20th Maine would stay in position until Fisher’s brigade came up, but in a few moments he heard them coming—extraordinary, he had not expected anything quick to happen in this army. The lieutenant sat against a tree while Chamberlain moved among the troops, getting them ready to move. Chamberlain came back for one last look around. For a moment, at least, we were the flank of the army. From this point you could see the whole battlefield. Now they were going down, to blend into the mass below. He looked around. He would remember the spot. He would be back here, some day, after the war.
The men were in line, all down the hill. Tom and Ellis Spear were waiting down below.
“You’ll guide us, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
The lieutenant moved off, downward into the dark. Chamberlain said, “I’ll be wanting to go back to Little Round Top as soon as possible. The regiment will bury its own dead.”
“Yes, sir, but I’m to lead you to your new position first, sir, if you don’t mind.”
Chamberlain said, “Where are we going?”
“Oh, sir—” the lieutenant grinned “—a lovely spot. Safest place on the battlefield. Right smack dab in the center of the line. Very quiet there.”
2.
LONGSTREET
Goree was back in the gray dawn. The move to the south was still possible; the road to Washington was still open. But Union cavalry was closing in around Longstreet’s flank. He sent orders to extend Hood’s division. He sat in the gray light studying Goree’s map, smelling rain, thinking that a little rain now would be marvelous, cool them, cool the battle fever, settle the dust. Wet mist flowed softly by; dew dripped from the leaves, pattered in the