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Fire and Dust
Acciones del libro
Comenzar a leerLongitud: 428 página6 horas
- Editorial:
- Christopher Datta
- Publicado:
- Nov 18, 2014
- ISBN:
- 9780986247422
- Formato:
- Libro
Descripción
Book II of the Fire Trilogy
In the fall of 1863, there is still a chance to prevent a Union victory in the Civil War. Robert E. Lee’s most trusted senior commander, General James Longstreet, takes two Virginia divisions west to unite with General Braxton Bragg’s Army of Tennessee. Longstreet arrives just in time to join in the Confederate attack on the Union army at the battle of Chickamauga.
As the fate of the Confederacy is decided, this epic saga plays out against the backdrop of the love stories of Mexican war veteran Sergeant Sam Davis and the recently widowed Sally O’Grady, and of the young, poor and naive private Harry Kolb and Rachel Shaw, the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner. Their tales bring to vivid life the forgotten watershed moments of September, October and November of 1863, a period that more than any other determined the outcome of the war.
Fire and Dust narrates the history of the Civil War as it really was, and makes you a front row witness as the destiny of the Confederacy unfolds.
If you thought you knew the Civil War, think again. In Fire and Dust, Christopher Datta takes you beyond the clatter and gore of the battlefield to reveal the very hearts and minds of the Confederacy. His characters will haunt you like a rebel yell, sounding down through the years to touch you with their sacrifices, their struggles, and—most of all—their humanity.
Karen Lyon, Hill Rag Magazine
Acciones del libro
Comenzar a leerInformación sobre el libro
Fire and Dust
Longitud: 428 página6 horas
Descripción
Book II of the Fire Trilogy
In the fall of 1863, there is still a chance to prevent a Union victory in the Civil War. Robert E. Lee’s most trusted senior commander, General James Longstreet, takes two Virginia divisions west to unite with General Braxton Bragg’s Army of Tennessee. Longstreet arrives just in time to join in the Confederate attack on the Union army at the battle of Chickamauga.
As the fate of the Confederacy is decided, this epic saga plays out against the backdrop of the love stories of Mexican war veteran Sergeant Sam Davis and the recently widowed Sally O’Grady, and of the young, poor and naive private Harry Kolb and Rachel Shaw, the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner. Their tales bring to vivid life the forgotten watershed moments of September, October and November of 1863, a period that more than any other determined the outcome of the war.
Fire and Dust narrates the history of the Civil War as it really was, and makes you a front row witness as the destiny of the Confederacy unfolds.
If you thought you knew the Civil War, think again. In Fire and Dust, Christopher Datta takes you beyond the clatter and gore of the battlefield to reveal the very hearts and minds of the Confederacy. His characters will haunt you like a rebel yell, sounding down through the years to touch you with their sacrifices, their struggles, and—most of all—their humanity.
Karen Lyon, Hill Rag Magazine
- Editorial:
- Christopher Datta
- Publicado:
- Nov 18, 2014
- ISBN:
- 9780986247422
- Formato:
- Libro
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Fire and Dust - Christopher Datta
Wings
Prologue
It is 1863 and the United States is in the third year of Civil War. In the East, General Robert E. Lee is defeated at Gettysburg, suffering over twenty-five thousand casualties, more than a third of his army. In the West, General Ulysses S. Grant takes Vicksburg and captures another thirty thousand Confederate soldiers. The fall of Vicksburg also gives the Union complete control of the Mississippi River, splitting the Confederacy in half, east from west.
General William S. Rosecrans, commanding the Union Army of the Cumberland, is in Tennessee stalking the Confederate Army of Tennessee. Almost without firing a shot, Rosecrans outmaneuvers Confederate General Braxton Bragg, pushing him further south until he is forced to evacuate the key city of Chattanooga and retreat into Georgia. Bragg’s army is hotly pursued by Rosecrans.
If the Union cannot be stopped from invading Georgia, Atlanta will be the next Federal objective. One of the South’s few remaining manufacturing centers, its loss would cripple the Confederate war effort. It would also bring Union soldiers into the very heartland of the South. From there, Union armies could shatter the Confederacy from the inside out.
But in September of 1863, there is still a chance to prevent a Union invasion. Confederate President Jefferson Davis orders Robert E. Lee’s most trusted senior commander, General James Longstreet, to move his part of Lee’s army west to join Braxton Bragg. Traveling by rail, it is the largest and fastest troop movement of the war. Longstreet’s two divisions reach Bragg on September 19, just as Bragg attacks the Union army at the battle of Chickamauga. With the extra troops from Virginia, it is one of the only times a major Confederate army will outnumber its Federal opponent.
On the morning of September 20, over twenty thousand troops under Longstreet’s command are ordered to assault the right wing of the Union army. Shortly before the attack, General Rosecrans makes a fatal mistake. Receiving a false report of a gap in his line, he orders one of his division commanders to shift his men to the left to fill it. Instead of plugging a hole, by carrying out the order this division actually creates one. In one of the more bizarre twists of the war, Longstreet’s forces hit the Union line precisely at this spot only minutes later. The South’s last best chance to win the war is at hand. In the events of the next two months, the fate of the Confederate States of America is to be decided.
Part 1
The Battle of Chickamauga
The Battle of Chickamauga. Map by Hal Jesperson, www.posix.com
Chapter 1
Chickamauga, The Second Day
September 20, 1863
Morning
General James Pete
Longstreet was a large man with a full, long beard and a perpetually grim expression, softened by sad, intelligent eyes. He sat on his horse in the morning sun smoking a cigar and frowning at the forest before him. General John Bell Hood, one of Longstreet’s division commanders, thought he looked tired and guessed he’d been up all the night before.
Sam,
Longstreet said, using the name Hood’s friends called him by, I finally found Bragg last night at eleven o’clock. He sent no escort to meet me at the railhead yesterday afternoon, no guide, no horses, and no damn orders. By the time our own horses arrived it was sundown. I damn near got captured stumbling around in the dark when I rode straight into a Yankee picket line. I’d be having coffee right now as the special guest of General Rosecrans except for some fast-talking in the dark. Convinced them I was a Federal officer and rode off.
Well, Pete,
said Hood, I’ll keep that talent for bluffing in mind next time we play poker.
Longstreet smiled. I guess I haven’t forgotten how to play a bad hand.
Hood swatted at a fly buzzing his ear. What did Bragg say when you found him?
Longstreet shook his head. I had to Goddamn wake him up, Sam! One of the biggest fights of the war and Bragg was asleep, for God’s sake. I am commanding the left wing of his army, he had no idea where I was, and he was sleeping.
Hood frowned. You don’t know the half of it, Pete. I arrived yesterday in time to get us into the fight, and I did not see Bragg at any time on the field.
Longstreet nodded. How’d it go?
Hood spat. My boys did well, damn well. We were close to breaking them when the Yankees got up reinforcements. But it was close, Pete, and damn if we couldn’t a done it if I’d had some help.
Hood took off his hat and rubbed his scalp. "The thing is, there were boys close by who could have supported me. They weren’t engaged, just sitting there, and they did nothing. Last night I challenged the commanding generals and they admitted, I tell you they admitted, that they heard the damn fight but they didn’t come. Didn’t have orders, they said.
Can you believe that, Pete? In Virginia, by God, commanders don’t have to be told to find a damn fight!
Longstreet nodded, eyeing Hood and exhaling a cloud of gray cigar smoke. "I can smell it, Sam. This army’s lost its aggressive instincts. Our boys here in the West lost New Orleans, then they lost Vicksburg, Nashville, Jackson and now Chattanooga. This Army of Tennessee has never won a single major engagement. Not one. That kind of thing infects an army. Defeat gets into the blood and the men stop believing they can win."
Let me lead my boys in,
said Hood, his eyes shining. I can be engaged in minutes.
Longstreet shook his head. "You can’t do it alone, Sam. We’ve got to get the rest of this damn army organized. I want a coordinated assault this time.
Bragg’s plan was to begin the attack on the far right, cutting off the Federals from retreat back to Chattanooga. Then each unit to the left was to move into action, one at a time until our entire line engaged the Yankees.
Longstreet looked to the north. We should have heard something long before now, but I’m not surprised Bragg’s plan has stalled.
Longstreet shook his head and turned back to Hood. Now, if you are ready, Sam, let’s you and I do it Virginia style.
*****
Hood watched Longstreet lean over a makeshift plank table to study a crudely drawn map, sketched only that morning with the help of a family whose farm sat smack in the middle between the Confederate and Federal lines of battle.
Hood felt stiff but he shook it off. It had been a hell of a trip from Virginia to the Tennessee-Georgia border. Thousands of miles across bad track in boxcars that pitched and rocked so hard he wondered what kept the whole damn train from jumping the rails. Then there were the hours wasted changing trains every time they reached a company rail line built with a different gauge track.
He shifted impatiently, gazing into the deep forest before him. Somewhere beyond those trees sat thousands of Yankee soldiers, and he burned to get about the business of killing them. He wanted payment in full for his left arm, shattered by a Yankee bullet at Gettysburg and hanging limp in a sling across his chest. He would never have the full use of it again.
Longstreet looked up and signaled for Hood and Generals Bushrod Johnson, Joseph Kershaw, McIver Law, Alexander Stewart, Thomas Hindman and William Preston to join him. Gentlemen,
he said, looking from face to face, "when I saw General Bragg last night, he told me it was his plan for the extreme right wing of our army to begin an assault on the Union line at dawn. That has not happened. I have no information on why, but believe the time has come to consider an alternate course of action.
After careful examination of the ground, I have asked General Hood to arrange your men as follows: the divisions of Generals Johnson, Kershaw, and Law are to be stacked into a narrow column, less than a half mile wide, placed here,
he pointed down at a line on the map. Gentleman, your divisions are a battering ram that will smash through the Yankees along a narrow front. I want maximum force concentrated right here,
he stabbed the map again with his finger. When you have broken through, you will swing left, dividing the Federal army in half. You will roll down the Federal right wing, to our left, flanking it as you go and forcing it into retreat.
Longstreet looked to his left. General Stewart, you will be in support on our right. When we have punched through, you will go forward to guard against a Federal counterattack as the rest of our troops push left.
Stewart studied the map and nodded.
"General Hindman, you will support on the left. When we have broken their line, you will swing to the left and join the assault with your fresh troops. However, be prepared to join the fight sooner if for any reason our initial attack stalls. In that event, go forward in support of it.
I have put General Hood in overall command to coordinate the attack. Any questions?
General Thomas Hindman nodded, and although impressed by the calm confidence of Longstreet, he still resented the overbearing style of these eastern Confederates. Longstreet should have put a western general in overall command of the attack. They’d been fighting here a long time, and it was their army. It was only too clear what Longstreet and Hood thought of the officers out here. Well, he thought with grim dryness, these high and mighty Virginia generals had just been whipped pretty good at Gettysburg.
Excuse me, General Longstreet,
said Hindman, but the Yankees have had all night to strengthen their defenses. A frontal assault against an entrenched position, well... isn’t that exactly what you tried on the third day at Gettysburg? Why will it work any better here than it did there? You will excuse my being frank, sir.
Longstreet kept a poker face, but inwardly flinched. He had opposed Lee’s assault on the center of the Union line at Gettysburg, and had warned Lee it could not succeed. But Lee had insisted, and Longstreet was ordered to organize the attack. It was the most difficult moment of his life, sending fifteen thousand men into a fight he was sure they could not win. The casualties were as bad as he’d anticipated. He’d lost some good friends.
General,
said Longstreet, "the circumstances are different here. At Gettysburg, our army was spread out across a wide front. We had over a mile of open ground to cover before reaching Federal lines, all of it open to enemy artillery fire from across their entire position. The Yankees had plenty of opportunity to inflict maximum damage on us before we could even engage them.
The battle plan here calls for an assault across a narrow front in great force. Our attack will be a battering ram, exposing fewer troops to enemy fire across a narrow front. Furthermore, the forests have screened our preparations, and when our troops step out from the woods they will be crossing a very narrow, open field. The element of surprise, and the limited distance we will have to cross, will give the Yankees far less time to react before we hit them. Once we break the Yankees, the depth of our attacking force will bring up thousands of additional troops to exploit the hole and deliver a destructive flanking fire that will roll up the enemy’s line to our left.
Longstreet paused, looking from face to face. They quietly glanced at each other; a few nodded, one smiled. And then Longstreet saw it, a light in their eyes that said they believed him.
Gentlemen,
said Longstreet, if y’all are ready, let’s go whip the Yankees.
The officers stood to attention, saluted, and walked quickly to their horses.
Hood rode up to Longstreet, holding his reins in his one good hand. Well, Pete,
he said, do you really think we’ll whip them?
Longstreet grunted and said quietly, Sam, you’ve only been with this army two days and you can ask me a question like that? Now, whenever you are ready, I suggest you do what you do best and go kill Yankees.
Hood saluted. General Longstreet,
he said, I will.
Several minutes later Hood peered through the edge of the woods into the clearing his troops would have to cross to reach the Yankees on the far side. General Bushrod Johnson, commanding the lead division of the attacking troops, stood beside him, along with two of his aides.
That’s LaFayette Road,
said Hood, pointing to the narrow, dusty road only a few hundred feet to their front. Beyond that, the Brotherton farm. The Yankees will be entrenched just inside the woods on the far side of the farm.
Johnson scanned the position through his field glasses but could not see any movement.
It is almost eleven o’clock,
said Johnson. Let us begin.
Hood nodded. They waded back through the thick underbrush to their tethered horses.
Johnson was born in Ohio, but had been teaching in Kentucky when the war broke out and sided with the South. He was a dark man, handsome, but self-conscious about the fact he was balding, and carefully combed his side hair over the top of his head to cover it.
Hood climbed on his horse and looked into the dense tangle of woods; for as far as he could see, the forest teemed with men in gray-and-butternut uniforms. They stood like ghosts, hardly distinguishable from the gray trunks of the trees, forest wraiths shifting nervously with the leaves in the light, cool breeze stirring the underbrush.
This is the moment, thought Hood. General Lee had once said it was good that war was so terrible or they should become too fond of it. God save him, Hood thought, he was fond of it. Its terror was its beauty. Most men wavered before the horror of battle, quaked at the thought of their own extinction and wished with all their might to be home. Not him. Fear could not, did not, touch him. Nowhere was he as completely alive as in the moments just before battle. He was born to drive the Yankee horde from the Southern homeland. It was his destiny. He was God’s angel of vengeance, an instrument of His will.
The drumbeat of his pulse quickened and he bellowed, General Johnson, forward! Drive them, sir. Drive them from our country!
Johnson echoed the order, and it reverberated across the forest as thousands of soldiers stepped forward. Line after line of men appeared as if by magic from the forest gloom and filed past, scrambling through the dense underbrush and using their muskets to push aside branches.
Hood rode slowly with them, followed by his staff, until he reached the edge of the clearing they would have to cross to reach the Federal line.
With a roar Johnson’s division emerged from the woods, the men finally able to see ahead and adjust to even-up their lines. Marching double time the lead regiments quickly crossed the LaFayette Road, advancing across the fields of the Brotherton farm. Confederate infantry still poured from the woods as though the trees themselves were taking human shape. They were lean, ragged men, leaning slightly forward and clutching their guns across their chests, an endless river surging onward.
By God, thought Hood, old Pete is right. We will whip them today.
Far ahead, Hood heard the crackle of musket fire. Johnson, riding among his troops, called out, On the double, boys! Forward, and break them!
The lead columns surged ahead and Hood caught the high-pitched yip of the rebel yell as the men sprinted toward the Federal position. The sharp crack of firing picked up, followed by the full throated boom of Federal artillery. The big shells whined through the air and burst among the troops.
It’s too little, thought Hood, and too damned late.
General Kershaw emerged on horseback from the woods next to Hood. Do you see, General?
said Hood, pointing with his good arm across the road. Took them by surprise, damn it, by surprise! We’re almost on top of them, by God.
Hood’s eyes gleamed at Kershaw. Keep it moving, General. Keep right behind Johnson and keep pushing them. Now, sir!
Kershaw saluted and rode off, shouting orders to his staff.
Hood rode forward with the lines of advancing Confederates. As the corps commander overseeing the attack he knew he ought to keep to the rear, but his blood was up and he could not stay behind the fight. At the edge of the woods marking the Federal line Hood saw puffs of white smoke from musket fire, but it wasn’t heavy, not near as heavy as he had expected. The Confederate advance didn’t waver, but continued to surge forward, the men running now, and then they were into the woods and out of sight.
Hood grabbed his hat and shouted. He swung his horse to the rear and waved the troops on. Keep it coming! Drive on through and don’t stop, boys!
Soldiers cheered and ran. Hood could see nothing but Confederates from one end of the field to the other, a great screeching, rolling carpet of men.
A cannon ball struck the neck of a soldier several feet away, flinging the head and body in opposite directions. The shell then tore off the arm of another soldier several feet farther on before plunging into the forest in an explosion of dirt and metal. Hood felt a fine spray of blood across his face and his right hand.
He turned to Major Sully of his staff. Major, ride back and tell Generals Hindman on our left and Stewart on our right to join the attack. Tell them we have broken the Yankees and I want them to advance immediately. We’ve got to take advantage of this before the enemy can regroup. They are to push them, do you understand?
Yes, sir!
The major reined his horse to the rear and galloped away.
Hood galloped forward into the forest where the Yankees had been only moments before. The battle was growing in intensity, and Hood could hear bullets hissing through the air around him. A few dead and wounded littered the ground, but far fewer than he expected. He continued forward, searching for Bushrod Johnson and the lead elements of the Confederate assault. Pushing on through the woods, Hood finally broke out into a clearing and found Johnson directing his men.
Johnson saluted. "It’s very strange, General Hood, very strange. Nearly all the Federal fire is coming from our sides. Almost nothing hit us from our front. I tell you, we are unopposed to the front. We have split the Federal line, sir. I have already captured over ten pieces of Federal artillery!"
Hood nodded. I ordered Hindman and Stewart to join the attack and widen the breech. We will roll down their flanks and shatter their position altogether. We have them, sir! Damn if we don’t!
What shall I do, General?
Go ahead, and keep ahead of everything! Don’t give them time to reform. Keep the panic on them. Push ahead!
Johnson saluted and rode forward to give the order. Not that the boys needed much encouragement, Hood observed.
The clatter of intense musket fire on his right drew his attention and he spurred his horse in that direction to investigate. The artillery fire was intensifying, bursting shells occasionally shaking the ground.
General Hood,
shouted one of his staff over the din, you are too far forward, sir! I beg you to fall back.
Hood ignored him. In a moment, he reached the source of the gunfire to find several regiments of Confederates falling back, running from the Yankees. Worst of all, Hood recognized them. They were Texans from his former command. Texans, for God’s sake! The only Confederates in retreat, and they were his boys!
Hood blocked several men with his horse. An officer was with them. They instantly recognized Hood and halted, looking shamefaced under his glare.
Captain,
Hood shouted, the enemy is behind you, sir! Can it be that Texas will be the only state to disgrace itself today?
General, we’re up against them damn Yankee repeating guns. Hell, sir, they shoot five times before we can answer once. It ain’t manly, and it ain’t fair!
Hood rose up in his stirrups and shouted above the crash of exploding shell, You sons of bitches from Texas, turn around! Attack, or I’ll shoot all of you myself! Now come on, boys, follow me!
Hood rode among the scattered groups of men. Attack, damn you! Attack!
Hood heard the sickening thwack of a bullet striking flesh, so close he was sure his horse was hit. The animal swayed. Then a hot pain, like a branding iron pressed against his right side, staggered him. He glanced at his right thigh. Splinters of shattered bone protruded from a gapping red wound. Already his right foot and the right side of the horse were soaked with blood.
Oh God, thought Hood, not my leg. An arm was not too bad, but a leg, that was too much. He’d be a cripple, hardly a man at all. Not his damn leg.
Hood realized his horse was not swaying, he was. A haze of pain closed over his mind. He looked about. Men gathered, their mouths moving, but he could not make out the words.
Where was General Johnson? I must speak to Johnson.
Tell him to go ahead, and keep ahead of everything,
said Hood. He vomited, at least he thought he did, and the ground tilted up at him.
Hands held him. He was off his horse, faces peering at him through a fog. There was something he had to do. No time to stop. A fight. Yes, there was a fight.
Go ahead, and keep ahead of everything.
Yes, General,
a voice answered. We will.
Yes,
slurred Hood, only aware of the blinding pain in his side, go ahead, and keep ahead of everything.
Chapter 2
Chickamauga, The Second Day
September 20, 1863
Early Afternoon
Longstreet sat astride his horse and surveyed what little he could see of the battlefield through the thick woods and underbrush encircling him. There was a faint smell of gunpowder in the air, and in the distance he heard the thunder of cannon and the crackle of rifle fire.
The reports were good. If true, they were even better than he’d hoped. It seemed Hood had sliced right through the Federals, almost as if there had been no enemy there at all. If true, they had already split the Federal army. The divisions to the right and left of Hood, under the commands of Generals Hindman and Stewart, were now widening that breakthrough.
General,
said Colonel Sorrel, one of Longstreet’s aides, I believe that is Brigadier General Benning of Hood’s division approaching us.
Sorrel pointed to a man riding bareback on what appeared to be an old artillery horse, whipping it with a piece of rope.
Longstreet sat impassively as Benning rode up, clearly agitated.
General Longstreet,
he said, gasping for breath as if he’d done the running instead of the horse. General Hood is killed. My horse is killed. My brigade is torn to pieces and I haven’t a man left, sir!
Longstreet studied Benning a few seconds, letting him catch his breath. Longstreet’s long, silent stare caused Benning to fidget uncomfortably. General Benning,
he said at last, are y’all sure you have not even one man left?
Benning flushed. Perhaps, sir, but our situation is desperate and the men are breaking.
I will send you support, General. In the meantime, rally what men you can and hold your ground until help arrives.
Yes, General Longstreet,
he replied, growing calmer.
You saw General Hood killed?
asked Longstreet.
I saw him carried from the field. The report is that he died on the way to the field hospital. In any event, we are now without a corps commander. There is great confusion. We have pierced the enemy line, but I fear this opportunity will be lost without someone to coordinate the attack.
Longstreet nodded. Thank you, General. I will oversee it myself.
Benning saluted, turned the horse, and rode back toward his men.
General Longstreet,
said Sorrel, General Hood’s death is a great loss.
Longstreet rubbed his chin and frowned. "Sam’s a fighter, and I wish he was still leading this attack. God knows this army is in bad need of his aggressive instincts. But I’ll believe he’s dead when I see his body.
Now, Colonel, let’s move forward and see just what the hell is happening.
Sir,
said Sorrel, the army cannot afford to lose General Hood and you. You must stay back.
Longstreet nearly snapped back at him in irritation. Sorrel was a younger man with a dark mustache and darker eyes. He was constantly trying to keep Longstreet out of harm’s way. It’s his job, Longstreet reminded himself, and not one he made easy. Lee also often complained he kept too close to the front and risked himself needlessly.
Colonel,
he said, Hood is down, Bragg is nowhere to be found, these damned trees make it impossible for our boys to know what is happening only a few hundred feet away, and someone has got to direct this battle. We have an opportunity here, but it needs leadership to seize it.
Longstreet spurred his horse forward, his staff following. In a matter of minutes he found Generals Johnson and Kershaw conferring amid the bursting of shell and the deadly hiss of bullets.
Johnson saluted. We’ve split the Yankee line, General Longstreet. On the left, I’m told that General Hindman has routed the entire right wing of the Federal army. It has collapsed completely, with every last damn Yankee running for Chattanooga.
We have a far more difficult situation on our right, however,
said Kershaw. We’ve run into stiff resistance. Elements of the Federal army are making a stand and my boys are having the devil’s own time of it. I think we should swing everything to the right, sir. If we act quickly we can still roll up the Yankee line and bag the whole damn Federal army! Every damn one of them! But so long as they keep us in check to the right, their line of retreat back to Chattanooga remains open.
Longstreet listened. By the sound of it, the intensity of the fighting on the left was fading, but not on the right. He could hear particularly heavy artillery fire from that direction. Those guns had to be silenced. And Kershaw was correct: if they could roll-up the Federal left wing as they had done to the right, the Yankee army would be theirs for the taking.
Very well, Generals, swing to the right. I will send up all the reserves we have to assist. We have an opportunity here. This could be the biggest victory of the war. The destruction of the Army of the Cumberland would regain all of Tennessee and open the door to Kentucky. My orders are to swing right, gentlemen. Finish the job.
We will, sir!
General Johnson shouted. It pleased Longstreet to see him catch fire.
Ignoring the constant artillery bombardment, Longstreet continued his inspection of the battlefield. Nearly everywhere the news was good. They had captured well over thirty pieces of artillery and hundreds of prisoners. In the distance to the north, however, he could see one last pocket of Yankee resistance on a small hill. The Confederates were advancing on it even as he watched, including fresh reserve troops.
By God, he thought, it won’t be long before even that Yankee line is shattered and we have them.
When Colonel Sorrel announced that a late lunch was prepared, Longstreet realized just how hungry he was. They rode to a nearby farmhouse where a picnic lunch of baked sweet potatoes and fried bacon sat steaming on a crude wooden table. Longstreet could not remember the last time he had eaten sweet potatoes, and the heavy, earthy aroma made his mouth water.
Colonel,
said Longstreet, this is a rare treat. I have not seen a sweet potato in Virginia in more than two years.
He glanced around at his staff, observing the ravenous delight on all of their faces. Of course, they could not begin to eat until he started. He took a perverse pleasure in slowly dismounting from his horse. He stepped toward the feast, and then stopped for a moment, glancing back at the sound of battle.
Do you think it proper, gentlemen, that we break for lunch with the battle still in full fury? Perhaps we should return to the front and save this for a more suitable moment.
Lieutenant Manning, a young and exceptionally hungry-looking staff officer, appeared close to tears. General Longstreet,
he blurted, for the good of the army, I beg y’all to eat, sir.
Sorrel, who had been with Longstreet longer than anyone present, knew perfectly well what game the general was playing and he struggled to stifle a laugh. Sir,
he said, I have to second the plea of the lieutenant. I think we can be spared a few moments for lunch without risk to the outcome of the engagement.
Longstreet strode up to the crude table. He seized a hot potato from a pile in a large wooden bowl and gingerly lifted it to his nose. It smelled sweeter than sin, the aroma as hot and heavy as molasses.
He sat down abruptly, grabbed a knife, and split open the crisp skin of the potato, releasing a cloud of steam. Pitch in, gentleman.
Hands eagerly grabbed into the pile. Longstreet carefully sliced the potato into bite-sized pieces that he stabbed with his knife and ate, rolling the sweet steaming chunks on his tongue until cooled sufficiently to chew without burning his mouth. He watched carefully as Lieutenant Manning broke open a potato and was about to wolf half of it down when he said, his mouth full, Lieutenant, how much Yankee artillery have we captured thus far?
Manning looked despondently at his prize, wondering if eating it before he answered would constitute a court-martialable offense. He reluctantly set the potato down. Uh, forty heavy guns by my count, sir.
Um-mm, this is fine eating. I have been to some of the finest restaurants in Richmond, but cannot remember ever enjoying a meal as much. Perhaps I was just never this hungry, which I’m sure sharpens one’s appreciation.
Manning smiled and raised the potato to his mouth.
Forty guns, you say? I confess, our success in this attack exceeds even my own expectations. It seemed as if we split the Yankee line almost without resistance. What could account for that, Lieutenant?
Longstreet laughed inwardly to see Manning’s face droop like a dog drooling over a bone he cannot have.
No Yankee alive is the equal of the Southern fighting man,
choked Manning. We are fighting on our own land and the Yankee invader is far from home. Even in the best of circumstances he lacks the spirit and the motivation of our soldiers.
Bacon?
asked Longstreet, offering the platter of fried meat around the table.
Manning seized on the break in conversation to stuff the entire potato into his mouth.
A Yankee shell hit a tree fifty feet away and exploded, showering them with shards of wood. Manning tumbled from his chair and lay on his back.
Several officers raced to his side, searching for the wound. Longstreet rose heavily to join them.
General,
said Colonel Sorrel, leaning over the boy, he is having trouble breathing. I believe his lungs are pierced.
Longstreet watched the gasping boy’s face turn a bright red. He thought he saw the problem, and felt a small stab of guilt. Reaching down, he pulled the lieutenant up by his shoulders, spun him over, and gave him a swift, sharp smack on the back. A large chunk of potato flew from the boy’s mouth and he took a few wheezing gasps of air.
No, Colonel, he was just eating a little too enthusiastically when that shell burst and that potato caught in his throat. He’ll be right as rain.
He returned to his seat and continued his own meal. Within minutes Manning was also back at his place, silently enduring the jests at his expense. He resumed eating at a more measured pace.
A few minutes later a courier rode into the farmyard, jumped from his horse, and ran to Longstreet.
General Longstreet,
he said, saluting, General Bragg sends his compliments. He wishes to see you at once. If you will follow me, sir, I will lead you to him.
Longstreet nodded. Slipping a sweet potato into his pocket, he turned and walked to his horse. Colonel Sorrel rushed after, and together they mounted and followed their guide.
They rode north about a mile and entered a small clearing where they found General Braxton Bragg pacing impatiently. Longstreet gave the reins of his horse to an orderly and approached him, saluting.
Bragg was very thin. In fact, he looked sickly, his face haggard and his shoulders stooped. On the side of his neck Longstreet saw three red boils. Bragg’s eyes were lit like a man with a fever.
General Longstreet,
said Bragg, rubbing his beard, what is your present situation?
"Our attack succeeded beyond expectations, General. Hood’s corps pierced the Federal line, breaking their army in two. We have captured forty or more heavy guns, thousands of small arms, and taken hundreds of prisoners.
"General Hindman advanced on the isolated Federal right wing and routed it. Not a blue uniform is left on that ground except that it is on a prisoner or a dead man. I have swung
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