A Stillness at Appomattox (37 page)

The
horseman
flipped
up
the
brim
of
his
hat
so
that
his
face could
be
seen—olive-dark
face
with
heavy
mustaches
and
hard eyes—and
he
barked
out
his
name:
"Sheridan!"
He
added
that Rebel
infantry
was
just
ahead,
strung
out
behind
brush
piles and
cowsheds
in
the
rolling
farm
land,
and
it
was
time
for Yankee
infantry
to
go
in
and
chase
them
out.
So
the
New Yorkers
and
New
Englanders
filed
off
the
road,
deploying into
fighting
formation,
and
Sheridan
kept
saying:
"Quick! Quick!"
³

Presently
the
lines
were
formed,
and
their
officers
told
the infantry
that
nothing
but
dismounted
cavalry
lay
in
front,
and the
battle
line
went
forward
in
the
hazy
dawn.
It
went
for
a mile
or
more,
ground
very
rough,
Rebels
withdrawing
very slowly,
and
a
great
many
Federals
fell
out
of
ranks
from
sheer exhaustion.
Those
who
kept
on
found
the
enemy
resistance pretty
stiff
to
be
coming
from
any
dismounted
cavalry,
and as
the
light
grew
and
they
could
see
better
one
man
turned
to his
mates
and
grumbled:
"Pretty
dismounted
cavalry—carrying
knapsacks!"
They
pulled
up
at
last
on
a
wooded
knoll, discarding
their
own
knapsacks—they
were
at
the
last
pitch
of weariness,
and
the
loads
were
heavy—and
while
the
men caught
their
breath
their
division
commander,
bushy-bearded General
John
Robinson,
rode
forward
and
tried
to
make
out what
was
in
front
of
him.

From
the
foot
of
the
knoll
the
ground
ranged
down
into
a little
valley,
with
the
road
to
Spotsylvania
Court
House
cutting
squarely
across
it.
A
quarter
of
a
mile
away,
on
the
far side
of
the
valley,
there
were
woods
on
the
rising
ground. These
woods
were
not
as
dense
as
those
in
the
Wilderness, and
in
them
the
general
could
see
a
fairly
long
line
of
Rebel soldiers,
working
feverishly
to
throw
up
a
low
breastwork
of fence
rails
and
earth.
Most
of
his
own
division
was
trailed
out behind
him
over
several
miles
of
road
and
he
had
just
one brigade
in
line,
and
it
seemed
to
him
that
he
should
let
the men
rest,
wait
for
the
rest
of
the
division
to
come
up,
and then
if
he
had
to
fight
go
in
with
everybody
together.
But then
Warren
came
up,
all
eager
and
impetuous,
and
Warren told
him
to
keep
going.

It
was
hardly
seven
o'clock
but
the
morning
was
hot
already,
and
Robinson
did
not
think
his
beaten-out
men
could make
it.
He
asked
for
more
time,
so
that
he
could
at
least mass
his
division
for
the
assault,
but
Warren
was
impatient and
told
him
to
go
ahead
without
waiting.
Orders
were orders.

Robinson
took
a
last
look
at
the
Rebel
position—it
looked pretty
strong,
with
the
trench
line
stretching
along
the
crest of
the
opposite
hill—and
he
consoled
himself
by
thinking
that if
the
attack
were
made
now
the
Rebels
at
least
would
not have
time
to
bring
up
artillery
and
make
the
job
completely impossible.
So
he
gave
the
word,
and
his
men
got
to
their feet
and
went
down
into
the
valley.

There
was
a
chance
that
they
might
make
it.
The
Confederates
had
marched
all
night,
too,
and
were
in
no
better
shape than
Robinson's
men,
and
they
were
still
busy
trying
to
finish their
trenches.
A
mile
beyond
them
lay
the
courthouse
and the
vital
road
crossing,
and
a
rattle
of
carbine
fire
came
faintly over
the
treetops
from
a
dispute
the
rival
cavalry
patrols
were having
there.
If
Robinson's
men
could
push
this
one
line
of Confederates
out
of
the
way,
the
town
and
the
crossing
belonged
to
the
Union
and
Lee
was
cut
off,
and
the
war
would take
a
very
different
turn.

But
the
going
was
very
hard,
and
there
were
mean
little gullies
cutting
across
the
ground,
and
the
Confederates
began to
lay
down
a
scorching
fire
of
musketry,
so
that
the
advancing
brigade
took
heavy
losses.
The
men
forced
their
way through
an
entanglement
of
felled
pines,
started
up
the
farther slope,
found
the
Rebel
fire
too
heavy,
and
hugged
the
ground in
lee
of
a
steep
little
bank
that
gave
some
protection,
waiting
for
the
support
troops
to
come
up.

Looking
back,
they
could
see
Robinson's
second
brigade, Maryland
troops,
mostly,
falling
into
line
on
the
knoll
and starting
forward,
and
for
a
moment
they
took
heart.
But
more Confederates
had
come
up,
and
these
fired
over
the
advanced brigade's
heads
and
hit
the
Marylanders
hard,
so
that
the
support
wave
fell
into
confusion
and
began
to
break
for
the
rear. Robinson
himself
came
along
the
slope
to
rally
them,
but
a bullet
hit
him
in
the
knee
and
he
went
down
with
a
wound that
would
cost
him
his
leg
and
take
him
out
of
the
war
for keeps.
The
Maryland
brigade
ran
away
and
the
rest
of
the division
had
got
into
a
fruitless
fight
off
to
the
right
somewhere,
too
far
away
to
lend
any
help
here.