Spake As a Dragon

CHAPTER SIX

  Day Three of the Battle

  The remaining members of E Company, 48th Alabama Infantry have been moved from the vicinity of the Devil’s Den and Little Roundtop and re-assigned to Major General Joseph Pickett’s Division. General Pickett’s men assemble on a slightly wooded rise known as Seminary Ridge, approximately three-fourths of a mile east of the Union lines. The Union forces now control the high ground named Cemetery Ridge to their west. High ground with a small stonewall fronting the Rebels. In the early days of the Civil War, it was quickly learned that any fortifications, even a low stonewall, was almost impregnable to an attacking force of unprotected foes. So it was to be this day.

  Luke spends most of the morning of the third day in the trees on Seminary Ridge. He is going man to man up and down the line of soldiers seeking information about his father and brother. These gray-clad young men digging and scratching at the earth with their bare hands and bayonets were not concerned with the events of yesterday, Thursday the 2nd of July. It is this day, Friday the 3rd, that worries them the most. Yesterday they were alive at the setting of the sun, sitting around their campfire with their messmates; today they figure they will be dead and sitting at the right hand of the Father. The awareness of the specter of Death hovers over them like an evil fog.

  The Rebs scratching at the earth with their hands are war-weary veterans that have ‘seen the elephant’ many times before. In their bones, they know another terrible engagement is at hand. Somehow they know this battle is going to be different. They also know that many of them will not see another sunrise. Fearing this beautiful July Friday would be their last day on earth they are digging holes and hiding their last earthly treasures. Luke watches as one soldier slips a wedding ring from his finger, tears a scrap of cloth from his shirt, wraps it around the ring and gently cover it with dirt. Another folds a scrap of paper with a note to his wife and deposits it in his hole. He knows it will be of no use giving it to one of his friends for safekeeping; they probably will not be alive either. Another hides a tintype picture of his wife and two young children. The sadness of watching these feeble efforts by the men is almost unbearable.

  As Luke walks among the brave, young heroes, he thinks, ‘might this be my last July morning too?’ He doesn’t spend time digging a hole; he has nothing of worth to put in it. The only thing he has of value - his grandfather Thomas’ gold pocket watch, but he cannot see himself burying it in the dirt of Pennsylvania. Regardless of what happens, the watch will stay with him. His primary thoughts are of his father and brother Matthew. He had found a couple of stretcher-bearers and described the boulder Robert and Matthew were hiding behind. Did the men find them? Were they still alive? Before he has time to dwell on these questions, one hundred and sixty rebel cannons open fire on the Union line. The blast from their muzzles rises to a crescendo of noise that is deafening. Grandfather Thomas’ pocket watch shows that the time is one p.m.

  The lines of sweaty, Confederate soldiers fall face down upon the hard, cool, earth. Many pray silently, others pray out loud. Most have their hands over their ears. They are desperately trying to shield their ears from the thunderous roar of the cannons. Added to this roar is the whine of the heinous balls of death that are being hurled over their heads toward the line of Union soldiers. Union soldiers, which are tightly hugging the earth behind the rockwall on Cemetery Ridge, praying as the Southern boys are that they would live to see tomorrow. The roar of the Confederate cannons is awe-inspiring, for the gray-clad warriors believe the Yankees cannot withstand such a horrendous hail of the iron missiles. The Southern spirits are greatly uplifted; however, little did they know that the cannoneers had mistakenly elevated their point of aim that most of the cannonballs sailed over the heads of the Yankees and fell harmlessly far behind the Union lines.

  With their heads pushed into the dirt and leaves, most do not see the stately gentlemen slowly approaching from their right. As the cannonade stops and the air begin to clear – Luke sees the man. Luke is standing so close to the gentleman and his large iron-gray horse he could reach out and touch them both if he so desired. He is within arms reach of his beloved commander – the leader of the Army of Northern Virginia, a man thought by his courageous followers to be almost Godlike.

  Luke stumbles and almost falls. He grabs the back of the General’s saddle to steady himself. Realizing what he has just done he removes his gray forage cap, bows his head and apologizes profusely for touching his commander’s saddle.

  “Here, here son, no apology necessary,” the General says, extending his hand to help Luke.

  “Thank you...Sir...uh...uh...General.”

  “Where are you from Lad?”

  “Alabama Sir, I’m from Alabama. I belong to the 48th.”

  “Ah, good state Alabama, fine fighting men,” he speaks but his thoughts are elsewhere. Reaching out again, the General shakes Luke’s hand, tips his hat and begins to ride away on his splendid gray horse. Looking back over his shoulder he speaks to Luke, “Good luck son, may God be with you this day.”

  ROBERT E. LEE

  The man in the saddle is the general in charge of the Army of Northern Virginia – Robert E. Lee, or Bobby Lee as his men affectionately call him. Mounted on Traveller his gray stallion.

  Today General Lee is meeting with his 1st Corp commander Lieutenant General James Longstreet. He is preparing to give Longstreet his order to attack. In an earlier staff meeting, Longstreet had arduously objected to the plan to attack the center of General Meade’s line.

  The rebel forces will assemble and begin their charge from the woods of Seminary Ridge. The charge will advance all the way to the Yankees on the opposing Cemetery Ridge across an open three-quarter mile expanse of grass. The Emmitsburg Road, bordered on both sides by a well-made split-rail fence, bisects this long stretch of openness. General Longstreet knows a charge of one-fourth of a mile to a well-entrenched enemy is murderous, but to go another extra half mile will be a disaster. He politely, and in proper military fashion requests his commander, General Lee, to reconsider. Lee will not. Bobby Lee has confidence in his boys. Defeat is not in their nature. Prior to today, the General is correct; they never have been defeated in a battle. He knows the open field is risky, but not suicidal. He feels his men can and will do the impossible.

  From his vantage point high up on Cemetery Ridge, Major General George Meade addresses his orderly, “My glass, please.” The captain quickly opens the telescope pouch and hands the spyglass to General Meade. It is now three o’clock; the cannonade had ceased from the rebel forces.

  General Meade sits astride Old Baldy, his white-faced old war-horse. Soldiers are not the only ones that can be war heroes Old Baldy qualifies too. From the height of Old Baldy’s back General Meade, peering through the lenses of his field telescope could clearly see General Lee and Traveller. As General Meade watches the head of the Southern army ride across the front of his army, an army all primed and ready for a fight, he thinks he has never seen such a magnificent sight. Up and down the length of the rebel forces dozens upon dozens of the Star and Bars battle flags flutter in the slight breeze. A shiver goes up General Meade’s spine – the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He inexplicably recalls a Bible verse:

  And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. (Rev 6:8)