Ignoring the warnings of his headquarters staff, Lee rode down the middle of the road oblivious to the rain of bullets kicking up geysers of dust in the street, shattering windows, splintering the sides of wooden buildings, and ricocheting off the brick ones.
The head of the charge was up over the forward knoll, pressing up into the smoke that circled the hill, reminding him somehow of an old etching of Mount Sinai, wreathed in eternal storm clouds.
The men, my God, the men, he thought, his stomach knotting. Hundreds of them were down, covering the approaches to the hill. Wounded were coming back up the street, many with uniforms torn and limbs shattered by artillery fire. At the sight of him some held their wounded limbs up, bearing them proudly like holy stigmata.
The gesture was almost frightening to him, a sacrilege. He fixed his gaze on the hill, the bloody hill that seemed to fill the sky ahead.
A glare of light, then a hail of rifle fire exploded in the smoke, followed a couple of seconds later by a storm of bullets sweeping the street. One of his cavalry escorts pitched out of the saddle; another had a horse go down.
"General Lee, you must retire!"
It was Walter Taylor, back from his mission to Johnson, racing out from a side street, moving to place himself between Lee and the rifle fire.
Lee fixed him with an icy gaze. "No. I will not hide at a moment like this."
"Remember Jackson," Walter replied, still moving to take Traveler's reins.
"I do remember Jackson," Lee said fiercely. "If he had been here, this attack would have already taken that hill. Time, Walter, it is always a question of time. We are losing the light."
"Sir, your getting killed will not change any of this now."
"The charge; it looks weak. What is going on?" Lee looked over at Taylor.
'Two brigades only, sir. Johnson claims there's a Union division forming on his left, a couple of miles down the Hanover Road. He's deployed a brigade to contain them. The other brigade is still forming and trying to come up."
Lee motioned him to silence.
The rebel yell!
In the dim light he saw the banners go up over the barricades around what looked to be a gatehouse. Another caisson blew, followed almost instantly by yet another exploding alongside the first.
The yell, the spine-tingling yell. Wounded in the streets paused, looked back, some of them raising their voices, howling. Others stood riveted, watching the charge.
Lee looked around at his staff. All were gazing up at the hill, some shouting. The charge pressed forward, colors dipping, going down, coming back up, going down, then coming back up yet again, still advancing.
My men, though. Oh, God, my men. They were dropping by the scores, the hundreds. "Finish it, for God's sake, finish it" The words escaped him like a desperate prayer.