And to his right was a beam of power coming into the power crystal. Dane knew this was the Shadow’s new source, from some other timeline it was in the process of draining.
Another piece of the puzzle.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was going to be a hot day. That was apparent to all on both sides of the lines as they woke with the rising sun. Cooking fires filled the air with their aroma but few had the desire to eat. H the previous day had been any indicator, many of those who greeted the morning sun had seen their last sunrise.
For the Federals, there was little movement to be made as the plan that had been decided was simple — hold in place.
On the Southern side, things were more complicated. Lee had not held a meeting with his subordinate commanders the previous night, nor had he had his staff issue any written orders. So, despite having decided on a course of action, Lee now had to implement it.
Lee started the morning by riding to Longstreet’s headquarters. On his way to his right flank corps, he scanned the length of the Union position as he rode along Seminary Ridge with a few of his staff officers. Just south of Cemetery Hill he saw something that he liked. There was a six-hundred-fifty-yard-wide stretch of almost bare ridgeline crowned by a copse of trees. From the Confederate skirmish line to the Union line was about thirteen hundred yards of pretty much open field. There were a few farm buildings and fences, but overall it was good terrain.
Lee continued south and found his senior corps commander with his staff, discussing a possible flanking movement. Lee was both stunned and angered.
“General, I wish to speak with you in private,” he told Longstreet.
The corps staff scattered out of earshot, before Lee continued. “You were with me, last night. You know my desires.”
Longstreet shook his head. “Sir, we had a discussion of possible courses of actions but you issued no orders last night, nor have I received any today. I have been over the terrain since first light and my scouts have also reported in. The Union holds both Round Tops but beyond that they have practically nothing. We can flank them still, and put ourselves both astride their supply and retreat line and between Meade and Washington.”
“We have had this discussion before,” Lee said. “I have not changed my mind.”
“Neither have I,” Longstreet shot back, the most visible sign of discontent he had ever shown the commander whom he revered.
“You will bring up General Pickett’s division,” Lee ordered. “I have already issued orders for artillery to mass opposite where I want him to attack. We will fire a prolonged artillery preparation before Pickett attacks.”
Lee turned on his heel and walked away. Longstreet stared after him as his adjutant came up. “He thinks the Army of Northern Virginia can do anything,” Longstreet · muttered. He gave in to the inevitable and began issuing orders.
As Lee rode off he realized it would take hours for Pickett’s division to be brought forward and move into assault position. Rather than let the Union forces sit still for the day, and to draw off reinforcements from the center, he engaged the part of his army most ready to attack immediately, his left flank.
Waves of Confederate troops attacked Culp’s Hill. Uncharacteristically as the morning progressed, the Southern forces seemed unwilling to press forward with their usual vigor. Not only was the terrain not favorable for the assault, being steep and rocky, there was little artillery support for them as Lee was massing his guns in the center. It was as if the Confederate troops involved were attacking simply because they had been told to, but not with any true determination.
This did not mean that men were not dying in droves. For each Southern attack, there was a corresponding Union counterattack and the same terrain saw bodies from both sides drop on it, soaking the ground with their blood. 3ut overall, there was a strong sense of anticipation in the air as if a powerful thunderstorm were coming and all were awaiting its arrival to see what it would bring.
Inside the storage cellar she had dug out the previous · evening, Amelia Earhart felt the sweat begin to come to the surface of her skin. She had the plank covering lifted about an inch, held in place with the haft of the shovel, so she could peer out. The Union line was silhouetted against the rising sun. She sat on the plastic case that held the skulls. She couldn’t tell if it was from the small amount of power the skulls had gained from the battle on Little Round Top or from the summer heat, but the case felt warm.
She drank from a canteen she had scavenged from a body the previous evening. She spit out the contents as it seared into her throat. Some terrible rotgut from a camp still. Earhart considered sneaking out to try to find water, but she knew her position was too exposed to the Union lines. She would be spotted.
All she could do now was wait.
Meade rode his lines one more time, making small adjustments here and there, but overall he was very satisfied with the way his men were positioned. He decided to join General Gibbon and his staff for lunch on Cemetery Ridge.
Lee intended to keep his word to Longstreet. He had spent most of the morning gathering his artillery together along a thirteen-boomed-yard front facing the copse of trees on Cemetery Ridge, which he had determined to be the focal point of the attack as it was very noticeable.
Most of the guns were massed in two great batteries. · One consisted of seventy pieces lined up hub to hub on the southern part of Seminary Ridge. The other was a set of thirty-five and another of twenty-six guns on the northern part of the ridge.
Meade was informed by his own chief of artillery of the Rebels moving their guns into position as he ate some of the fried chicken Gibbon’s staff had cooked up.
“Where are they aimed?” Meade asked, wiping his hands on his breeches.
“Here,” the artillery officer said.
“Will their fire be effective?” Meade asked.
“Somewhat. But many of the guns are at maximum range given their lateral displacement. Also, they will have to elevate to fire. Either they will be dead on and hit the front side of this ridge or else their shells will go overhead harmlessly.”
“And how many do you think will be dead on?” Meade asked.
“At the range they’re firing. Not many.”
“Good.”
“Should I initiate counter artillery fire?”
“No.” Meade ordered. “Conserve your ammunition. I think you will soon have more targets that you could have dreamed for.”
Pickett had had a hard time getting his troops forward, moving through the rest of Longstreet’s corp that was in · front of it. Also they had to ride against the steady flow of ambulances moving to the rear, overloaded with moaning and crying wounded. Not the most motivational scene. Still, morale was high among the Virginians of his division because the word had spread that Robert E. himself had chosen them to carry the day and the battle.
Pickett had no idea what the battlefield ahead looked like. He drew his forces up according to the orders he had received, on the western slope of Seminary Ridge, out of sight — and artillery fire — of the Union lines. He deployed his division in two waves, each about eight hundred yards wide. Each wave consisted of two ranks with me closers behind. In front was a thin line of skirmishers who would lead the way. Some had been sent out in the early dawn, crawling forward into the field before the Union lines to pull down fences and other obstacles. Now they lay still in the high grass, waiting.