A Stillness at Appomattox (187 page)

It
was
April
8,
by
now,
and
tomorrow
would
be
Palm Sunday,
and
the
land
was
rich
and
warm
with
spring.
Below the
Appomattox,
that
day,
the
road
wound
interminably through
deep
woods,
so
that
dusk
came
down
early.
Ord's
divisions
were
on
the
road,
and
all
of
the
V
Corps,
together with
much
artillery,
and
the
artillery
was
supposed
to
have the
road
while
the
infantry
filed
along
on
each
side.
But
the road
was
very
narrow,
so
that
there
was
much
crowding
and confusion,
and
the
men
were
very
tired
and
quarrelsome, and
some
time
after
dark
a
tremendous
fight
broke
out
between
infantry
and
artillery.
Infantry
complained
that
the gunners
were
driving
their
six-horse
teams
recklessly,
forcing men
off
the
road
and
causing
injuries.
Gunners
declared
that infantrymen
were
hitting
artillery
horses
over
the
head
with musket
butts.
Everybody
was
hungry,
irritable,
and
half
out of
his
mind
with
fatigue,
and
the
yelling
and
cursing
and hitting
and
general
uproar
went
up
from
the
dark
lane
for an
hour
or
more.

When
it
was
finally
settled
it
was
after
midnight,
and
the troops
were
led
off
the
road
to
make
a
supperless
bivouac. They
got
very
little
rest—one
regiment
at
the
tail
of
the
column
complained
that
it
was
roused
just
fifteen
minutes
after it
turned
in—because
couriers
came
riding
in
from
Phil
Sheridan,
who
was
a
few
miles
farther
on,
near
a
little
place called
Appomattox
Court
House.
He
had
his
cavalry
squarely in
front
of
the
Rebel
army,
and
he
was
writing
that
if
the infantry
could
be
there
first
thing
in
the
morning
they
could probably
wind
the
whole
business
up.
¹⁸

Sheridan's
scouts
had
come
to
him
earlier
in
the
day
with word
that
several
freight
trains
with
food
had
pulled
in
at Appomattox
Station,
a
mile
or
so
from
the
courthouse
town, and
that
Lee's
wagons
would
presently
be
alongside,
loading up.
Sheridan
sent
Custer
off
at
a
gallop,
and
Custer's
division took
the
Confederates
by
surprise,
seizing
the
trains
just
as they
were
ready
to
unload.
There
were
former
railroad
men among
the
Yankee
troopers,
and
these
flung
themselves
from the
saddle
and
raced
for
the
locomotives,
climbing
into
the cabs
with
much
clumping
of
heavy
boots
and
clanking
of
sabers.
They
threw
out
the
Southern
train
crews,
blew
whistles and
rang
bells,
and
bumped
the
trains
back
and
forth
in
aimless
celebration
until
someone
finally
had
them
run
the
cars up
the
track
a
few
miles
so
that
they
would
be
out
of
reach of
any
Confederate
counterthrust.

Custer
took
the
main
body
of
his
troops
on
past
the
station,
seized
a
big
wagon
park
and
artillery
train,
and
chased fugitives
eastward
along
a
road
that
led
uphill
through
deep woods.
He
came
out
into
the
open
just
at
dark,
and
saw
a rude
breastwork
cutting
across
the
highway
with
gray-clad infantry
behind
it.
Beyond,
many
campfires
put
a
soft
red glow
on
the
sky.
They
were
the
campfires
of
Lee's
army— and
Custer's
cavalry
was
due
west
of
them.
¹⁷

Sheridan
came
up
soon
after,
with
the
rest
of
the
cavalry. He
sent
hurry-up
messages
for
the
infantry,
put
half
of
his men
in
line,
dismounted,
facing
the
Rebel
breastworks,
and ordered
the
rest
into
bivouac
near
the
railroad
a
mile
to
the south.

The
road
his
cavalry
was
on
was
the
main
road
to
Lynchburg,
which
lay
twenty
miles
to
the
west.
Of
all
the
world's roads,
this
was
the
only
one
that
mattered
now
to
the
Army of
Northern
Virginia.
If,
when
morning
came,
that
army could
knock
the
Yankees
out
of
the
way
and
march
west
on this
road
it
might
still
hope
to
live
for
a
while—a
day
or
two, a
fortnight,
a
few
months.
If
it
could
not
do
that,
it
would cease
to
exist
within
twenty-four
hours.
Cavalry
alone
could not
bar
the
way
very
long,
but
if
the
blue
infantry
came
up in
time
then
it
would
be
taps
and
dipped
flags
and
good-by forever
for
Lee's
army.

Federal
infantry
was
on
the
road
in
the
dark
hours
before dawn,
with
very
little
sleep
and
no
breakfast
at
all.
The
men were
told
that
if
they
hurried
this
was
the
day
they
could finish
everything,
and
this
inspired
them.
Yet
they
were
no set
of
legendary
heroes
who
never
got
tired
or
hungry
or thought
about
personal
discomfort.
They
were
very
human, given
to
griping
when
their
stomachs
were
empty,
and
what really
pulled
them
along
this
morning
seems
to
have
been the
promise
that
at
Appomattox
Station
rations
would
be
issued.
Most
of
the
men
who
made
the
march
that
morning, one
veteran
admitted,
did
so
because
they
figured
it
was
the quickest
way
to
get
breakfast.
Even
so
the
straggling
was
abnormally
heavy,
and
there
were
regiments
in
the
column which
had
no
more
than
seventy-five
men
with
the
colors.
¹⁸
It
was
Palm
Sunday,
with
a
blue
cloudless
sky,
and
the warm
air
had
the
smell
of
spring.
The
men
came
tramping
up to
the
fields
by
the
railroad
station
with
the
early
morning sun
over
their
right
shoulders,
and
they
filed
off
to
right
and left,
stacked
arms,
and
began
collecting
wood
for
the
fires with
which
they
would
cook
the
anticipated
rations.
The
divisions
from
the
Army
of
the
James
were
in
front,
Ord
and John
Gibbon
in
the
lead,
and
the
V
Corps
was
coming
up close
behind.
Gibbon
and
Ord
rode
to
a
little
house
near
the railroad
where
Sheridan
had
his
headquarters,
and
Sheridan came
out
to
greet
them
and
explain
the
situation.