"Sir, maybe you should get up." Henry Hunt groaned, raising his hat off his face, squinting up at his orderly, who was looking down anxiously.
He wanted to curse the young lieutenant and tell him to go away. The orderly was holding a tin cup of coffee as a peace offering, and Henry gingerly took it by the rim, swearing softly as it burnt his fingers before he could finally take the handle. He blew on the thick brew.
"What's going on?"
"Some real upset, sir."
He stood up, bones creaking from the effort, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and looking around. All was quiet along the brow of the cemetery. There were occasional distant pops from skirmishers off beyond the wooded hill to the northeast As he faced that way, the thump of distant cannon fire washed over him. The volume picked up even as he stood there.
Are things opening on our right? he wondered. Is Lee trying to flank us there? Around the headquarters, back behind the slope, there was a flurry of activity: staff officers riding back and forth, knots of men talking.
Strange how it worked, so many self-important men around a headquarters, all of them acting as if the fate of the war rested on their ponderings and swapping of rumors. It was like a hive of bees getting riled up whenever something happened.
"What's the upset?"
"Sickles has moved."
"What?"
"You can see for yourself, sir. Apparently he did so without telling General Meade."
The orderly motioned to the west, and Henry followed him, coming out from under the shade of an elm, squinting from the harsh noonday light. Slowly walking up the slope of the cemetery, he sipped the coffee. He hated the feeling when awakening from a midday nap, especially after an exhausting night of work. It was hard to think clearly. You felt sticky, aware of just how long it has been since you had a decent bath, a change of clothes, and a proper meal.
A gun crew was directly ahead, the men standing, pointing off to the south, intent on whatever it was they were watching. As he came up alongside the three-inch gun, he finally saw what they were looking at a mile away… an entire corps of Union troops, flags flying, moving as on parade, sweeping out across the fields toward the Emmitsburg Road. Though long ago cynical about the grandeur of war, he had to inwardly admit that it was a powerful sight
"General Meade galloped out of here a few minutes back, swearing a blue streak," Henry's orderly said. "Everybody saw it"
"Better get down there," Henry sighed. The orderly, who had been leading Henry's horse, handed over the reins. Henry drained the rest of the coffee, tossed the cup on the ground, and mounted.
"There's more, sir. Right after General Meade rode out I was talking with a sergeant with the Signal Corps. He said there was some confusion about the signal station down at Emmitsburg."
"Emmitsburg?"
"Yes, sir. It's been hazy all morning, sir. This sergeant said there was some sort of signal, but they couldn't read it clearly. And then nothing. The station atop that big round hill on our left flank has been trying to raise them, but no response. Seems that there's a bit of worry about it"
"Anything else?"
"Well, there're a lot of rebel cavalry coming in around our right. That's the skirmishing you're hearing."
Henry looked toward the northeast Puffs of smoke rippled in front of the crest locals called Culp's Hill. His orderly was right It was cavalry, dismounted skirmishers. "Infantry?"
You can still see what's left of the Rebs who attacked last night; they're on the far side of town.
Worry about that later. Stuart coming in, and on the right flank, might mean a move. Should I check this out? he wondered.
He suppressed a groan as he spurred his mount to a fast canter. Too damn much riding these last couple of days, enough to bounce your guts out For a brief instant he thought about just turning back to headquarters, finding the shade of the tree that was so comfortable, and waiting it out But two things drove him. If Sickles was on to something down on his flank as well, he'd better go up and see about the deployment of guns… that and he was just damn curious to see what was going to happen.
They followed the crest line down along the position held by Second Corps. The men were up, shading their eyes, looking southwest watching the spectacle; and it was indeed a spectacle, long battle lines of blue sweeping across the fields. He weaved his way down onto a farm lane that cut through a woodlot and then came out to a narrow road heading west. The pasture to either side of the road was trampled down, clear indication that lines of infantry had just passed through. He turned onto the road and within a couple of minutes came up on the rear of the advancing corps, men moving forward in a vast formation, the sight of which quickened his pulse. The road was jammed with artillery limbers, batteries assigned to Third Corps; and as he passed, several men shouted to him, asking what was happening.
He ignored their calls, weaving in and out through the formation until his orderly pointed toward the knoll crowned by a peach orchard. The confrontation was already on, Meade and Sickles facing each other, still mounted, staff back a couple of dozen feet away, soaking in every word. He edged up to the group and reined in.
"And I tell you," Sickles was shouting, waving an arm toward the west, "there is something big moving out there, at least a division, maybe a corps going for my flank."
"Goddamn it, Sickles!" Meade roared back. 'I'll break you for this, bust you out of this army. I don't have time for amateur generals running about whenever the whim seizes them."
"Been going at it like this for the last ten minutes," a guidon bearer whispered, coming up to Henry's side.
He ignored him, trying not to be too obvious a voyeur to the confrontation.
"Listen," Sickles replied, lowering his voice, "it's good ground here; half my corps were looking up at this knoll. Beyond that, I tell you we're getting flanked. The signal station tried to communicate that from Emmitsburg, and now we can't raise them at all."
"How in God's name do you know that?" Meade shouted. "We could barely see it yesterday it was so damn hazy. Based on that, a signal station we can't see, and now you're moving without orders?
"Can't you hear the Confederate artillery on the right flank?" Meade shouted, gesturing back to the north. "Lee might very well be moving on our right, and you are overextending the left
"Goddamn you, Sickles! Damn you! You moved up from Emmitsburg yesterday without waiting for orders. Now you're moving again without orders. Are you in command of this army or am I?"
Sickles said nothing.
"Answer me, damn you!"
"You are," and mere was a long hesitation, "sir."
"General Sickles, if you desire to still have your command five minutes from now, you'll listen to me, damn you. Turn your corps around and go back to the position assigned to you."
Dan sighed, looking around at the men watching the confrontation. He wearily shook his head "At least let me send a brigade forward as reconnaissance, that and send a couple of regiments south toward Emmitsburg to find out what is happening, why we can't raise the signal station down there."
"Your heard me, damn you. Every man back to his original position right now."
Dan looked frantically around, like someone cornered in a barroom brawl, hoping for support. All around him were silent. "Order the men back to their original positions," he finally said to no one in particular, his voice filled with weariness.
Members of his staff sat mesmerized, not moving. "Do it!" he roared.
Staff officers turned and moved off. Meade, glowering, looked around and with a savage jerk turned his horse about
"After this is over, by God there will be an inquiry into this, Sickles. I promise you that"
Without another word, the army's commander rode past Henry. Henry watched him go, wondering if he should ask for orders, but figured it was best not to deal with the man at this moment
The confrontation broke up. Bugle calls echoed across the fields, the vast movement grinding to a halt, like a lurching machine that had suddenly seized up. Thousands of voices rose up, expressing the eternal sentiment of soldiers of the Republic, that the damn officers didn't know what the hell they were doing.
' Dan caught Henry's eye, and before Henry could turn away he rode up.
"Can't you talk to him?" Sickles asked, an imploring note in his voice.
"Me? If you couldn't I know I sure can't."
"You see my point, don't you?"
"It's not my place to say," Henry replied cautiously. Sickles was noted as a damn cagey courtroom fighter. The last thing Henry needed was to be cited as having lent support to Sickles's position. Meade's words were not idle ones; they rarely were. Once the campaign was over, Meade would go after Sickles, political friends be damned.
"You heard about Emmitsburg?"
"Something."
They couldn't read the signal, but one of my staff was up there, on the Big Round Hill, and said there was a lot of frantic waving and then nothing. Nothing, I tell you."
"And?"
"Hunt, they're flanking us. You can smell it. The dust in front of my lines; you can see that even now.
"After you left I sent a probe forward and it got savaged. Berdan is damn near dead, and a hundred men lost. If the Rebs were fighting that hard, just a mile in front of me, that tells me they don't want us looking over that next ridge. It tells me we're being flanked."
"So why advance forward, unmasking your left?" Henry asked, unable to avoid getting sucked in.
"Because if they're flanking us, we should hit them first It's the same as Chancellorsville all over again. Hit us, fix our attention, then slip around our flank. I said it at Chancellorsville, by God, and no one listened. And now we're doing it again. Twenty more minutes and I'd've been into them, goddamn it!"
"You should have cleared it with him," Henry finally offered.
"I sent half a dozen messengers to him. Half a dozen and always the same reply, that he had things well in hand "
The battle formations to either side of Sickles were at a halt and now facing about starting the hike back toward the main line half a mile away. Sickles looked around, squinting, features scarlet.
Henry almost felt a moment of pity for this foul-mouthed ward politician turned general. He had been humiliated in front of his entire command. Every soldier, down to the most dim-witted private in the Third Corps, would know about that humiliation within the hour.
"You'd better get back and establish headquarters," Henry finally offered.
"Hunt would you do me a favor?"
"What sir."
"Go south. You've got a good mount Just take that road down to Emmitsburg. You could get there in an hour. Scout it out."
Henry said nothing. Scouting was not his job. It was artillery and Sickles knew that If Meade found out that the chief of artillery had gone off scouting at the request of Sickles, he'd be out of a job.
Dan lowered his head and turned his mount back. "Hunt, this day will wind up haunting both of us for the rest of our lives." He rode off, leaving Henry alone at the peach orchard, except for the orderly, who like all orderlies waited patiently.
Henry nudged his mount forward, the orderly falling in by his side, the young officer knowing better than to say anything. For a brief moment Henry was tempted to detail the lad off, send him down the road as Dan requested. No, one boy wandering off on his own would most likely get lost or wander into trouble and get himself killed.
All the way back to headquarters, and even as he settled back under the elm tree, Dan's words haunted him. The nap was an unsettling one and brought Henry no rest or peace.