'You have some information for me?'
John gulped, nodded. 'Sir. From up there,' and he pointed back to the cupola. 'I was just up there. We're driving them, sir, really driving them. But south of the town, they're beginning to reform. Artillery, I'd say at least thirty guns, sir, and what's left of their infantry; most of it is rallying.'
General Longstreet reined in beside Lee, catching John's last words.
'Fresh troops?' Longstreet asked.
'I didn't see any, sir.'
John was surprised at how casually Longstreet had interrupted the conversation, but Lee did not react
Lee looked over at Longstreet 'We have their First and Eleventh Corps here, and we've defeated them,' Lee said. 'It might be nightfall before the rest of them begin to come up.'
'We are not sure what's beyond that hill,' Longstreet replied, pointing east where the crest of Cemetery Hill was just visible, covered in smoke.
Lee looked back down at John. 'Thirty guns?'
'I can't promise that sir, but I think that's close. I saw a battery coming out of the town and moving into place. There might be more soon.'
Lee turned his attention back to Longstreet
'Sir,' Longstreet said slowly, 'we've done well today, very well. We don't want to get tangled up in that town. If we try for that next hill now, we might be sticking our necks out'
'General Longstreet we have them on the run. We will drive these people, drive them, sir!'
He stopped for a second, looking with solemn determination from Longstreet to Taylor, then back to Longstreet again. John stood by, aware that Lee barely noticed that he was there.
'Drive them, sir, drive them. If they are running, I will press them.'
As he spoke the last words, he gestured toward the town, to the heart of the battle. John turned to look and sensed that the thunder was abating, the attack dying off even as Lee called for the battle to continue.
'Now is when to press them,' Lee said, his voice sharp. 'I want those people driven off that far hill within the hour. Colonel Taylor, let us go find General Ewell.'
Longstreet began to speak, but a glance from Lee stilled him.
'General Longstreet, return to your corps. Have them come forward with all possible haste. General Hill is not well today. If need be, you are to assume control over his men still on the road and press them forward. I want Johnson and Anderson's divisions to come forward and prepare to go into action.'
Without waiting for a reply, Lee reined Traveler around and started toward the town.
John saluted as he passed, but the general did not notice.
'By God, what is going on with him today?' Longstreet asked, looking over at Taylor.
'His blood is up, General. His blood is up.'
Walter saluted as Longstreet, features grim, turned his mount and started back in the opposite direction.
Walter looked down at John. 'Take care, John. It's a hot day.'
John saluted, saying nothing as Walter set off to catch up with Lee.
A hot day. Suddenly he felt very thirsty. 'Sergeant, you got a drink?''
Hazner shook his head. 'Gave my canteen to some Yankee.'
'Damn it,' John sighed.
'Sir, we better get back to the regiment. The Old Man's blood is up, and you know what that means.'
John watched as Lee cantered down the road, heading into the town, hat off, acknowledging the cheers of his men, urging them forward. He could sense the vibrant excitement rushing through the army, the indefinable something, the inner spark that Lee could strike and, once struck, exploded into flame. It felt as if they were on the edge of a distant dream, that just beyond the mist, the smoke ahead, were the green, sunlit fields… of home.
'Perhaps today is the last day,' John whispered. 'Perhaps today we will finish it.'
'That's it Dilger, feed it to 'em, damn them, feed it to 'em!'
Sitting down to see under the smoke, Henry braced his elbows on his knees and trained his field glasses on the column of Confederate infantry cresting over Seminary Ridge.
'Number one… fire!'
The first of Dilger's Napoleons recoiled with a thunderclap boom, smoke jetting from the muzzle and touchhole. 'Number two… fire!' Henry waited expectantly. 'Number three… fire!'
A yellow blossom of fire ignited fifty yards short of the Reb column.
'Number four… fire!'
No detonation from the second… 'Goddamn fuses,' he muttered softly. Number three's shell slammed into the flank of the column and detonated, toylike figures of men tumbling over.
'That's the stuff, number three!' Henry cried, coming back to his feet.
The powder-begrimed crew paused for a second in their labors, looking over at Henry, grinning, but knew better than to revel in their glory, and within seconds were back to work.
'Number one, set your damn sights!'
Captain Dilger, whose Ohio volunteer battery had been in action since midmorning, came up to the general. 'Sir, ammunition?' Dilger asked, voice barely a whisper.
Henry unslung his canteen and handed it over. The captain
took a mouthful, rinsed, spat it out, and then took several long
gulps.
'I'm bringing up more,' Henry said, 'just keep pouring it in.'
'Thank you,' but his voice still cracked, raw from hours of shouting, breathing the thick, sulfurous fumes, and from sheer exhaustion.
'Pour it on 'em,' Henry replied. 'You've got infantry columns in flank, by God,' and he pointed toward the seminary, where snakelike lines of butternut and gray, following their regimental flags, were pouring over the ridgeline north of town, streaming down into the fields beyond, maneuvering past the town and heading east
'My God, the arrogance of those people marching like that' Henry exclaimed excitedly. 'Just pour it on. I'll make sure you get resupplied.' He started to turn away.
'Sir?'
Henry looked back.
'Ah, sir. My men, it's been…' His voice trailed off under Henry's icy gaze.
'We hold this hill till the last gun, the last man,' Henry replied sharply. 'I don't give a damn if you are the last man standing, these guns don't go back another inch.'
'Yes, sir.'
Number one fired again. He turned his attention back, but the smoke was too thick; it was impossible to see.
'You have the range!' Henry shouted, section commanders and gun sergeants looking back at him. 'Smoke or no smoke, keep pouring it on!'
He stalked off, barely flinching as a shot plowed through the trees overhead, branches ripping off, littering the ground around him.
Looking downslope, he watched as the infantry continued to dig in. Most of them were General Schurz's Germans, the one reserve brigade from Eleventh Corps who had been held back by Howard to fortify the hill. They were the only fresh troops left; and though most of their comrades had broken and run in the debacle north of town, these men still looked fit, eager to prove their name.
A colonel, seeing Henry, came off the line, approached, and gave a friendly salute. 'Think the Rebs are going to keep coming?' he asked.
'By God, I hope the bastards do come,' Henry growled.
Even as he spoke, there was a flurry of rifle fire, confused shouts. Out of the smoke clinging to the bottom of the hill, shadowy, forms emerged, dark blue uniforms, running, most of them unarmed. One of them spun around, going down, his comrades leaving him behind. They reached Schurz's line, refusing to stop, crying that everything was lost and that the Rebs were coming.
Henry watched disdainfully as the men, several of them officers, staggered past. A light breeze eddied across
