The colonel looked at him, obviously overwhelmed. "I'll write it all down," Herman said wearily, pulling his notepad back out
"And one final order, Colonel." "Sir?"
"A cup of coffee; in fact a whole pot if you can get it"
11:55PM JULY 1ST 1863
GETTYSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA
Riding into the town square, Lee edged Traveler around a line of ambulances clogging the Hanover Road. Torches and lanterns hanging from porches cast a flickering glare on the chaos of vehicles, artillery limbers, dead horses, and a column of troops trying to snake their way through the confusion, heading to the skirmish line on the south side of town.
Dozens of civilians were out in the street many of them women. He remembered an old saying that when one became a parent all boys become your children. He paused for a second, looking down at an elderly woman reading a Bible to a tattered barefoot soldier, shirt gone, bloody, bandages wrapped around his stomach. The boy was in shock, trembling like a leaf, head resting on her lap. She paused, looking up. There was no hatred or anger, only an infinite sadness in her eyes, and he wondered if her own son was at this moment digging in on that hill south of town. He saluted and rode on.
A smattering of musket fire rippled from the crest of the hill, followed seconds later by the flash of artillery. A shell fluttered over the square, men pausing, looking up. A wounded soldier, eyes bandaged, started to scream hysterically until his comrades quieted him down.
"Walter?'
"Here, sir."
"Flag of trace. Send someone up to that hill. Offer my compliments to General Hancock and please tell him that this town is a hospital area. There are civilians here, and many of their own wounded as well. Also, we wish to remove our wounded from the front of the hill. Ask for a ceasefire till dawn." "Sir?"
Lee looked over at him.
"Sir, that is a concession to them, an admission of defeat."
"Just do it I'll not have these people suffer anymore over a foolish point of military protocol."
Walter saluted, turning back, shouting for an aide.
Was it a defeat? Lee asked himself.
Experience had long ago taught him that in the rear of a battle defeat and victory often looked the same. In the center of the square he paused, looking again to the hill, illuminated by the moon, which shown brightly overhead.
Defeat? Not possible, not with this army. They've checked us for the moment but in the morning we shall play a different tune.
He opened his jacket and pulled out his watch. It was time for the staff meeting, nearly midnight
He turned north, riding the short distance to the railroad station that had been designated as headquarters for the army, passing through the line of dismounted cavalry who formed a cordon around the low, single-story brick building. Dozens of horses were tethered or held by orderlies, nearly blocking the entry. The low buzz of conversation stilled at his approach, heads bobbing up, young fresh-faced privates dressed in homespun, staff lieutenants, some of them still sporting finely tailored uniforms of gray, battle-stained brigade commanders, all of them stood silent
He could sense the mood. They were exhausted. It had, after all, been a very long day, and the night was now half-gone. It had been a day that had exploded with high hopes and triumph and closed with bitterness.
His gaze swept them, each of the men stiffening slightly when they sensed that his eyes were upon them.
I could order them in now, right now, he realized… and they would do it I order men to die and they do not hesitate;
they go forth gladly, eager to be the first to fling themselves into the dark mist If they trust all in me, my God, I must not fail them. I must not
Slowly he dismounted, someone taking Traveler's bridle. He patted Traveler affectionately. "See that he has water and something to eat" Lee whispered. "A pleasure, sir."
Lee caught the boy's eyes, smiled. Again the reverent look. He wanted to pause, to ask the boy who he was, where he came from, what regiment he served with. No time for that now. I know what has to be done, and it's time to get to it
He stepped up onto the siding platform, past the sentries flanking the open doors, and into the waiting room of the station.
A table, a fine dining room table, most likely dragged over from the hotel across the street filled the center of the room, maps spread out upon it
The men hunched over the maps looked up as one and came to attention.
They were all here, Longstreet Ewell, Hill, Jed Hotchkiss, the chief cartographer for Jackson before his death, and finally, standing to one side, the errant Jeb Stuart His gaze held on Stuart, who stiffened and formally saluted.
"I am glad to see that you are well, General Stuart"
The room was silent He caught a glimpse of Longstreet standing to one side and could sense the barely concealed anger.
Stuart started to say something, but Lee motioned him to silence.
"General Stuart there is time enough later for us to discuss what has happened these last few days. The hour is late. I am more concerned with what will happen in the morning."
Though he spoke softly, he fixed Stuart intently with his gaze, conveying with a single look that the issue would not be forgotten. The man had to be reined in but not broken. A touch of uncertainty at this moment would be good, making him more attentive to the task ahead.
Lee stepped up to the map table, taking off his gauntlets, laying them to one side.
Spread out on the center of the table was a sketch map in Jed Hotchkiss's bold hand of the day's battlefield.
Hotchkiss cleared his throat "Sir, as you can see, this hill, the locals call it Cemetery Hill, dominates the position south of town. Their First Eleventh, and we believe a division of Twelfth Corps now occupy that hill, along with sixty pieces of artillery.
"Their left flank, extending on what is called Cemetery Ridge," and as he spoke he traced out the position, "stretches south for a mile, up to this crossroads in the middle of a peach orchard, where the road to Emmitsburg crosses a road that heads west to Fairfield."
"These two hills behind that crossroad?" Lee asked.
'1 got a brief look at them just before dark, sir. The higher of the two is wooded. It appears as if they have established a signal station atop it One of my staff saw flags up there. The lower of the two, with a rocky race, is clear cut on its western slope, facing us, and giving them an excellent field of fire. This left flank, the ridge, the crossroads, the two hills are occupied by Dan Sickles's Third Corps and Buford's division of cavalry."
Lee nodded, finger tracing out the line.
"And their right?"
"The locals call this position Culp's Hill."
"Difficult ground," Dick Ewell interrupted. "In our last attack, one of Johnson's brigades swept across the face of it. The crest was occupied by a mix of First Corps and at least a brigade from Twelfth Corps. They're digging in."
"And our own left?"
Hotchkiss looked over at Ewell.
"It's up in the air, sir," Ewell replied hurriedly in his high, piping voice. "That's where the other brigade of Johnson got tangled up. Sir, I assure you, there was a division of Union troops deploying out there beyond Grip's Hill. We even took a couple of prisoners; they're Twelfth Corps."
"Are they still there?"
Ewell was silent
"Are they?"
"I don't know, sir. The men are exhausted; it's dark. If we had a couple of regiments of cavalry, we'd soon find out" and as he spoke his gaze shifted to Stuart
"We don't have them yet," Lee replied, saying each word sharply and clearly.
"My first brigade will be up before dawn," Stuart quickly interjected.
Lee looked up. "I am not looking for excuses, gentlemen. At the moment I am seeking answers."