A Stillness at Appomattox (153 page)

Federals
and
Confederates
met
head
on
and
around
the regimental
battle
flags
there
was
furious
fighting.
A
man
in the
8th
Vermont
remembered
that
"men
seemed
more
like
demons
than
human
beings
as
they
struck
fiercely
at
each
other with
clubbed
muskets
and
bayonets,"
and
at
times
it
seemed that
a
dozen
Confederates
at
once
were
reaching
for
each flagstaff.
The
colors
tossed
up
and
down
in
the
dust
and smoke.
When
they
dropped
the
Southerners
would
cheer, and
when
they
rose
again
the
Northerners
would
cheer,
and after
a
time
the
brigade
got
back
out
of
the
road
and
joined in
the
retreat.
It
still
had
all
of
its
flags,
but
it
had
lost
two thirds
of
its
men.
¹⁷

Step
by
step,
the
whole
army
retreated,
and
by
the
middle of
the
morning
it
formed
a
shaky
battle
line
four
miles
north of
its
original
position.
This
line
stretched
away
to
the
west of
the
pike,
and
there
was
a
lull
in
the
fighting,
and
the
men scooped
up
little
breastworks
and
got
ready
to
meet
another attack.
Crook's
corps
was
gone,
and
plenty
of
men
had
vanished
from
the
other
commands
too,
and
all
of
these
fugitives, together
with
the
usual
concourse
of
coffee
boilers,
wagoners,
ambulance
drivers,
and
the
like
were
stretched
out
in steady
flight
all
the
way
back
to
Winchester.

This
flight
was
not
a
headlong
rush,
because
even
a
frightened
man
cannot
run
so
very
far
without
pausing
for
breath. After
the
first
panic
wore
off
the
men
settled
down
to
a
walk, carrying
on
their
flight,
as
one
officer
said,
"in
a
manner
as systematic
as
if
they
had
been
taught
it."
Now
and
then
they would
stop
to
make
coffee
and
talk
things
over.
Then
they would
go
on
again,
sauntering
along
without
haste
but
also without
any
intention
of
making
a
real
halt
anywhere.
It
was noticed,
in
this
as
in
all
similar
cases,
that
it
was
almost
impossible
for
any
officer
to
rally
and
re-form
such
fugitives
unless
they
recognized
him
as
belonging
to
their
own
regiment or
brigade.
They
would
obey
no
strangers.
They
might
fall into
ranks
obediently
enough
for
a
strange
officer,
but
the ranks
would
evaporate
as
soon
as
he
tried
to
lead
them
back into
action.
¹⁸

The
triumphant
Confederates
meanwhile
had
seized
all
of the
Union
camps,
and
had
1,300
prisoners
and
18
of
Sheridan's
cannon
in
their
possession.
Ahead
of
them,
perhaps
a mile
and
a
half
to
the
north,
they
could
see
the
last
Federal battle
line;
it
was
nearly
two
miles
wide,
and
swarms
of cavalry
were
forming
up
on
either
flank,
and
as
Early
looked at
it
he
was
jocund
and
full
of
confidence.

Exactly
one
month
earlier
his
army
had
been
running
away from
the
Yankees,
at
Winchester.
Now
it
was
the
Yankees who
were
in
flight,
and
Early
was
in
high
spirits.
A
good many
of
his
soldiers
were
leaving
their
commands
to
despoil the
captured
camps,
with
especial
attention
to
the
good
food their
foes
had
not
been
able
to
take
with
them,
but
this
absenteeism
did
not
worry
him.
He
declared
that
the
Yankee battle
line
visible
west
of
the
turnpike
was
no
more
than
a
rear
guard.
It
would
go
away
before
long
and
the
victory would
be
complete.

General
Gordon
was
of
a
different
notion.

"That
is
the
VI
Corps,
general,"
he
said.
"It
will
not
go
unless
we
drive
it
from
the
field."

But
Early
would
not
listen
to
him.
The
Yankees
had
been beaten
and
most
of
them
had
run
away:
the
rest
would
run away
before
long
and
that
was
all
there
was
to
it.
Still,
to play
safe
he
put
his
staff
to
work
to
round
up
the
camp
looters
and
get
them
back
into
formation.
¹⁹
From
his
headquar
ters
post
on
a
hilltop
he
continued
to
look
north
with
deep satisfaction.
Banks
and
Sigel,
Hunter
and
Sheridan—they were
all
alike,
when
they
collided
with
a
Rebel
army
in
the Valley!

.
.
.
On
a
rise
of
ground
just
north
of
Winchester,
about fifteen
miles
from
the
battlefield,
the
17th
Pennsylvania
cav
alry
had
been
in
bivouac.
They
had
come
down
from
Mar
tinsburg,
guarding
trains
against
guerillas,
and
they
had
been ordered
to
wait
here
for
General
Sheridan,
who
had
reached Winchester
the
night
before
on
his
return
trip
from
Washington.