Walter. No one approached him and Walter looked around in confusion.
'General Lee, your flag is your keepsake as well,' Grant said.
'I thank you, sir.'
There was a long silence, no cheering, no shouts of triumph, no patriotic airs, only the sound of the wind, the fluttering of the flags, of which only one was now held high, the colors of Grant's headquarters.
'God be with you, General Lee,' Grant said, and he drew to the side of the road, clearing the way.
Lee rode a few feet forward, leaned over, and extended his hand, and there was a muttering from all gathered at the sight of this.
'Today you are a friend of the South,' Lee said loudly. 'God be with you, General Grant, and with all of your honorable men. We shall never forget the respect you have rendered us this day.'
Grant took his hand firmly, and then he leaned over and whispered, 'For heaven's sake, sir, please try and end all the fighting. Please, sir, help me with that.'
'I shall.'
Their grasp tightened for a second, and then Lee let go.
He looked over his shoulder, men staring at him, the column stretching deep into the woods.
'Pass the word down the column,' Lee said, not too loudly, but clear enough for those in the front ranks to hear. 'Pass the word that we have been today treated with honor, and we shall return that honor.'
He turned to face forward, nudged Traveler, and as he passed the national colors he slowed and raised his sword in salute.
He rode on and made it a point to turn and look back. His officers behind him hesitated for a second, not sure of what to do, but his gaze made it clear to them. Longstreet did it first, slowing and saluting the flag. Hood, once the fire-eater, right arm gone, but with tears streaming down his face, raised his left hand to render honors.
He could hear word of this racing back down the column, the discipline of silence broken for a few seconds.
'The general's saluted the flag. Salute the flag as you pass, men. They saluted ours.'
Drummers picked up the beat of the march, and the column went forward, Lee at the front. As they stepped onto the pontoon bridge across the river, command was given to break to route step.
The column flowed past, an endless sea, it seemed, of battered, worn men in gray and butternut, blanket rolls over shoulders, some limping along with a bandaged leg or arm in a sling, some being helped by comrades.
Grant gazed into their eyes, accepting the salutes of their officers.
He looked carefully at his own men. Their features had softened in the last few minutes. Some would nod or whisper a few words as the Confederates continued to march by. He had worried about that, the slightest breach of discipline, a taunt, a comment, that would be repeated and remembered. But he realized now there had been nothing to worry about at all.
If any were bonded together by a war, it was these men, these men of both armies. The politicians of both sides who had started this nightmare might now scream for vengeance-never to give up, never to forget, always to hate and be hated in turn-but not these men. They had, together, faced the fury of battle, and so many of their comrades had disappeared into those gray smoke-enshrouded fields, where they would remain forever.
Those here, at this moment, understood far better than any what it had cost, what it now meant. They had shared the crucible of war and drank from its scalding contents and the taste of it had burned the final hatreds away.
After long minutes became a half hour and then an hour, the command was given for the front rank to step back and go to at ease, the rank behind them stepping forward to replace them and coming to attention. And yet still he remained motionless, watching the column as it continued to pass.
Discipline did ease slightly when a reb marching by looked over and recognized a few, a tragic few in their tall black hats. The reb saluted. 'Iron Brigade, fit you at Antietam. You boys have grit.'
The men of the Iron Brigade nodded. 'Texas, ain't you? You're good men.'
The reb nodded and moved on.
And so the column crossed over the bridge, dust rising up as the hours passed, a rider astride a gray horse at the fore, followed by a single flag disappearing from view, marching into the realm of legend.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Richmond, Virginia The Confederate Capitol
September 10, 1863
Gen. Robert E. Lee dismounted from Traveler, returning the salute of the men lined up in division strength to either side of the road. He was dressed in his formal uniform, sword at his side. The men saluting him were a mixture of troops from several of his old divisions, mostly Virginian boys.
Out on the front lawn before the old state legislature building of Virginia, now the capitol building of the Confederacy, thousands of civilians had gathered, and an ovation went up at the sight of him walking up the steps.
Many of his old comrades were already waiting for him, Pete Longstreet, A. P. Hill, who seemed, at the moment, to be recovering from the illness that had taken him out of the last campaign, and Judah Benjamin.
Judah stepped forward to shake his hand. 'Did he do it?' Judah asked. 'You mean the president?' 'Yes, of course I mean the president.' 'Yes, he did. And I think you know what I shall say now.' Lee walked into the legislative hall, which was packed to overflowing with members of the Confederate Congress and the Senate. A ripple of applause broke out at the sight of him and turned into a standing ovation. He said nothing, merely nodding and stepping to one side of the door.
There was one person still missing.
Several minutes passed in silence until again there was cheering outside.
The sergeant at arms came to attention and banged his staff on the floor.
'Honorable members of Congress. The president of the Confederate States of America.'
Jefferson Davis walked in, and after a brief applause the room fell silent. The tension was electric as the members of Congress looked from Davis to Lee and back to Davis, wondering what had transpired in their meeting of an hour ago. Not just Richmond, but the entire South was waiting, citizens as far off as Savannah, Mobile, beleaguered Atlanta, standing before telegraph stations.
The Speaker of the House took the podium and called for order and then without flourish or ceremony simply announced, 'Gen. Robert E. Lee.'
Lee took a deep breath, looked over at Judah, who nodded, and walked up to the podium, turned, and faced his audience.
'President Davis,' General Lee began, nodding toward President Jefferson Davis, sitting in the back of the room, 'members of the Congress of the Confederacy and members of the president's cabinet, fellow citizens.
'I have come here to report on the military situation of our Confederacy. I speak not as a politician but as a military man. My facts are the facts of war, not the hopes of politics and civilian speeches.'
The crowd began to straighten up and watch carefully at these unexpected words and the sober, indeed somber, tone of Lee's words.
He paused for a moment.
'This morning I met with President Davis to discuss those facts. As a serving military officer I am honor bound to obey the orders of the commander in chief.'
Again a pause and he lowered his head, then, realizing that what he had to say required him to look Davis straight in. the eye, he stiffened, features grave.
'But this morning I have refused the orders of President Davis and have no recourse but to resign from the service of the Confederacy.'
Davis, red-faced, glared at him.
Lee knew the gesture was melodramatic, but Judah and Pete Longstreet had both told him he had to do this
