And ten miles away, Gen. Robert E. Lee turned off the road; He needed no directions; it was easy enough to find what he was looking for. Troops, men of Johnson's command, were spread out in an open field. Some had ponchos out strung together, and spread atop inverted muskets, men clustered beneath. Clear-enough sign that they had not moved for some time.
The rain was picking up again. Off to his left he could see a thin coil of smoke; something in Taneytown still burning, he realized.
He rode on, his anger building as he saw ho activity.
Ahead he could hear a scattering of fire. Skirmishers, an occasional thump of a field piece, but no movement The men sitting where they had most likely been sitting for hours. As he rode past word spread ahead, racing down the line. Men were up, some with hats off, others saluting. A few bold ones shouted questions, asking of the fight "over on the right"
He rode on.
At last he saw them. The carriage that Ewell had taken to riding in due to his missing leg, staff, Hood and Pickett together to one side, both looking up expectantly as Lee rode up to the small farmhouse.
"Where is General Ewell?" Lee asked sharply.
"Inside," Hood offered, pointing to the open door.
Without another word, Lee walked up the steps and into the front parlor. The house was modest, made of fieldstone, the ceilings low. Ewell, leaning against a table, stood up and saluted.
"How is it on the right?" Ewell asked.
"Longstreet held," Lee replied sharply. "The question is, General, why have you not advanced as ordered."
"Sir, we heard the cannonade, two hours of it Someone came in reporting that Longstreet was falling back."
"Who, sir?"
"A soldier with Early."
"A soldier with Early? No one from my command? No one sent by Colonel Taylor or General Longstreet or me?"
Ewell was silent From the corner of his eye, he saw Hood and Pickett standing outside the doorway.
"Why are you not advancing, sir?" and his voice was loud enough to carry outside.
"Sir, given the confusion of the situation, the report from that soldier, the intensity of the cannon fire, I realized, sir, that what I had under me was the only remaining reserve of the army. Sir, I thought it prudent to wait for further clarification before advancing north."
Lee nodded.
"General Ewell," he said, in a cold deliberate voice, "I gave you clear written orders before action was joined this morning. You were to wait until it was evident that the Union forces were fully committed and attacking at Union Mills. You were then to push north, finishing what was left of their Fifth Corps, and men advance behind their lines toward Littlestown."
He paused for a moment Ewell was silent staring straight at him.
"You have not done that sir."
"General Lee, with all due respect sir. We still do not know where Sixth Corps is. For that matter where their First and Eleventh Corps are located. I might very well be facing four corps over there, and I only have three fought-out divisions."
"You did not do as ordered, sir," Lee stated flatly.
Ewell lowered his head. "Sir, I thought it prudent not to."
"Prudent? By all that is holy, sir, it is such prudence that will lose us this war and waste the lives of our men. I did not ask you for prudence; I ordered you to show leadership."
Ewell looked down at the map and vaguely started to trace out the lines.
Lee stared at him and for a moment almost felt pity. Ewell had once been a good division commander, the right hand of Jackson. That Ewell was gone, lost with the leg shattered at Second Manassas. He had become doubtful, hesitant
Is that what I could have become? Lee wondered. What might have happened if I had shown hesitation these last four days, a moment of doubt a moment of deference when I could so clearly see what had to be done but could not quite face up to it… that the nature of this war had changed, and we must change with it if we are to win, if we are to have any chance of winning.
He turned his head slightly, saw Hood at the door, Pickett and Johnson behind him, staff gathered out on the lawn, all of them silent
"General Ewell," and his voice was pitched cool, even.
"Sir?"
Lee took a deep breath. "General Ewell, you are relieved of command." "Sir?"
‘I am relieving you of command, sir. Kindly report to Westminster and there take over the organization and distribution of supplies."
Ewell blinked, face gone red. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came.
Lee offered a salute and turned for the door.
"You cannot do this, sir," Ewell whispered.
Lee turned and for a moment, the old courtly sense of deference almost held sway-to offer a soft word, almost an apology. And then he thought of what he had witnessed along me heights above Union Mills, the sheer magnitude of carnage, the worst he had ever seen.
If that was to mean anything, if it was to change anything, then he had to change with it, to take full moral responsibility and bring meaning out of it. To do what was necessary to find some value, some gain out of the horrid sacrifice that was tearing the country to shreds, both North and South.
It is up to me, he thought yet again.
Lee slowly came back to the table that Ewell was leaning on and fixed him with a cold gaze. "Not another word, sir," Lee said coldly. "Not another word. Now report to Westminster."
Ewell gulped and nodded, tears in his eyes.
Lee turned and headed for the door, the three division commanders nervously backing away at his approach. He could see it in their eyes, the shocked disbelief. At no time in the thirteen months of Lee's command had anyone witnessed such a moment Always in the past when someone had to be relieved, it was done quietly, as gentlemen, with a face-saving transfer to some out-of-the-way posting, and never in the heat of battle.
He could see the touch of fear in their eyes. And he thought of the fear in the eyes of all those lying along the slope, in the eyes of the dead gazing up lifeless, the rain pooling on their still, gray faces.
He stood silent, looking at each in turn. "I am taking direct command of this wing," Lee announced. "Longstreet has held at Union Mills and inflicted grievous losses. Meade's army is ready to collapse. We will be the decisive blow to finish him."
He closed his eyes for a moment, haunting images floating before him. Think of that later, he told himself.
He looked back at Pickett, "You will lead the assault, sir, supported by Hood and then Johnson. I want you into their rear, at Littlestown, by dark. We have four hours of daylight left I do not want another Chancellorsville or Second Manassas, with darkness allowing them to escape.
"You are to push on regardless of losses. You will be facing the remnant of only one corps, and they will be shaken, for surely word must be reaching them now of their failed assault at Union Mills.
"I expect you to be across the Baltimore Road by dusk. And I will be with you to the end."
"General, sir," Pickett interrupted, "thank you for the honor and glory, sir. Virginia will bring victory this day, sir."
Lee's features reddened. At this moment all the flourishes, all the high talk that had been so much a part of all of them, now seemed to have turned to ashes.
"War is hell, gentlemen," Lee said, his voice icy. "I pray that God will forgive us all for what we have done to each other this day. And General Pickett we will talk of victory when it is finally won, and not before."
He said nothing more, stepping off the porch, walking toward Traveler, Walter holding the horse's reins. All gathered around the small farmhouse were silent Many stunned, more than a few nodding, features grim.
The Army of Northern Virginia had changed forever.