And here, at last, was Harry Heth.
He rode up spattering dust, jerking at the horse with unnatural motions, a square-faced man, a gentle face. He blinked, saluting, wiping sweat from his eyes. He had never been impulsive, like Hill; there was even at this moment something grave and perplexed about him, a studious bewilderment. He had been the old army’s leading authority on the rifle; he had written a manual. But he had gotten into a fight against orders and there was a blankness in his eyes, vacancy and shame. Lee thought: he does not know what’s happening.
Heth coughed. “Sir, beg to report.”
”Yes.”
”Very strange, sir. Situation very confused.”
”What happened?”
Lee’s eyes were wide and very dark. Heth said painfully, “Sir. I moved in this morning as directed. I thought it was only a few militia. But it was dismounted cavalry. John Buford. Well, there weren’t all that many and it was only cavalry, so I just decided to push on it. The boys wouldn’t hold back. I thought we shouldn’t ought to be stopped by a few dismounted cavalry. But they made a good fight. I didn’t expect… They really put up a scrap.”
”Yes.” Lee was watching his eyes.
Heth grimaced, blowing. “Well, sir, they wouldn’t leave.
My boys got the dander up. We deployed the whole division and went after them. We just about had them running and then all of a sudden I see us moving in on infantry. They got infantry support up from the south. The boys got pushed back. Then we re-formed and tried again, couldn’t stop there, sir, but there’s more infantry now, I don’t know how many. But I don’t know what else we could have done. Sir, I’m sorry. But it started out as a minor scrap with a few militia and the next thing I know I’m tangling with half the Union army.”
”Who are they?”
”Sir?”
Lee was watching the fight, which was now relatively quiet. The smoke was clearing, blowing toward the north.
He could see blue troops moving in the trees on the Union right, moving out on the flank. He looked north, but he could see nothing beyond the ridge. The blue troops seemed to be pulling back that way, retreating, reforming. Strange.
The battery up by the cupola had stopped firing. Riding up through the haze: Dorsey Pender. Letter from a pious wife.
To Heth Lee said, “What units have you engaged?”
”The cavalry was Buford, sir. Two brigades. They really fought. Then there was the First Corps, the black hats, John Reynolds’ old corps. Then there was another corps, but we still haven’t got it identified.”
At Lee’s shoulder, Taylor said quietly, insistently, “General, you are in range of the enemy batteries.”
Lee said, “It’s quiet now.” He looked once more at Heth; his anger died. No time for blame. But there must be information.
Taylor insisted, “You gentlemen are standing together.
May I suggest that you move at least to the shelter of the trees?”
There was a sudden fire on the left, a burst in the north.
Lee felt an acute spasm of real anger. He clutched his chest.
I know nothing.
Heth said, “I’d better look to my flank.” He moved away. A rider came up-a courier from Rodes.
”General Rodes’ compliments, sir. I have the honor to inform you that the General has joined the engagement with his entire division and is attacking the Union right. He begs me to inform you that General Early is behind him and will be on the field within the hour. Do you have any instructions, sir?”
Lee felt a thrill of delight, mixed with alarm. Rodes had come in right on the Union flank; the blue troops were turning to meet a new threat. And Early was close behind.
A flank assault, already begun. Lee sat staring north. No way to tell. He could order forward the entire army Heth was here and Pender. Rodes’ attack might almost have been planned.
But he did not know how many Federals were ahead.
Rodes might be attacking half the Union army. Another Sharpsburg. And yet, and yet, I cannot call him back; he is already committed. Lee said, “Nothing for now. Wait here.”
He turned to Taylor. “I want all possible knowledge of yam the enemy strength. Ride forward yourself and observe.
And be careful.”
Taylor saluted formally and rode off, the grin breaking across his face just as he turned. Lee turned and began heading back toward the road. Now Heth was back.
”Sir, Rodes is heavily engaged. Shall I attack?”
Lee shook his head, then said loudly, “No.” He rode on, then he said over his shoulder, “We are not yet prepared for a full engagement. Longstreet is not up.”
Heth said, “There aren’t that many of the enemy, sir.”
”What are your casualties?”
”Moderate, sir. There’s been some fighting. But Pender is in position. Together, sir, we could sweep them.”
Lee waited. It did not feel right. There was something heavy and dark and tight about the day, riding stiffly in the broad barren field, in harsh sunlight. The firing in the north was mounting. Batteries of artillery had opened up.
”Who is commanding there?” Lee pointed to the hills beyond the town.
Heth blinked, suddenly remembering. “Sir, I’d forgotten. We have word that General Reynolds was killed.”
Lee turned. “John Reynolds?”
”Yes, sir. Prisoners state he was killed this morning. I believe Doubleday has succeeded him.”
”Are you sure?”
”The news seems reliable.”
”I’m sorry,” Lee said. His mind flashed a vision of Reynolds. A neat trim man. A gentleman, a friend. Lee shook his head. It was queer to be so strange and tight in the mind. He seemed unable to think clearly. Reynolds dead.
Gone. Doubleday behind him. Doubleday an unknown quantity, but certainly nothing spectacular. But Reynolds’ First Corps was solid. What to do?
”I can support Rodes, sir,” Heth said.
Lee looked at him. He knows he has brought this on; he wants to fight now to retrieve it. His answer is to fight, not to think; to fight, pure and simple. Lee rode slowly forward, nearing the trees ahead alongside the road. You can depend on the troops, but can you count on the generals? Why has Rodes attacked? Will Hill fight well, or Rodes either? What I need is Longstreet and he is not here. A mistake to bring him up last.
Another courier. “General Early has arrived, begs to report that he is attacking to the north of General Rodes.”
Lee stopped, looked north. It was working almost like a plan. It was possible to see Intention in it. The Union formed to face him and fought well and now was being flanked from the north, simply because Lee’s men had orders to come to Gettysburg, and they were coming in almost behind the Union defenses. Lee felt a sharpness in the air. His blood was rising. He had tried to be discreet, but it was all happening without him, without one decision; it was all in God’s hands. And yet he could leave it alone himself no longer. Rodes and Early were attacking; Heth and Pender were waiting here in front of him. Lee’s instinct sensed opportunity. Let us go in together, as God has decreed a fight here.
He swung to Heth. “General, you may attack.”
To Pender he said the same. He gave no further directions. The generals would know what to do now. With that word it was out of his hands. It had never really been in his hands at all. And yet his was the responsibility.
He rode forward to the rise ahead, across the small creek.
Now he had a clearer view. Pender’s Division was on the move; he heard the great scream of the massed Rebel yells.
Now batteries were in position behind him, beginning to open up on the woods near the cupola. Lee ducked his head as the shot whickered over him. He did not like to stand in front of artillery. Some of the artillery was moving forward.
Rifle fire was breaking out. The wind shifted; he was enveloped in smoke. Marshall ’s face appeared, an incoherent message. Lee tried to find some place to watch the assault. Pender’s whole force was streaming forward across the fields, into the woods. Lee saw flags floating through white smoke, disembodied, like walking sticks. Shell bursts were appearing in the air, white flakes, round puffs. One blossomed near. There was Marshall again. Lee heard fragments split the air near him. He moved into a grove of trees: oak, chestnut. There was a white house nearby, a white rail fence, a dead horse lying in a black mound in the sun.