The Smoke at Dawn: A Novel of the Civil War (51 page)

He turned, looked back to the east, out past the camps of his men, far down the backside of the great ridge. There were farmhouses and narrow roads, small rocky fields cut through with woodlands rolling across smaller hills. Wilderness, he thought. Nothing of value to this ground, no bountiful croplands. The only
value
here is what two
armies can do to each other, if one side drives the other completely away, or destroys our ability to fight. He caught himself.
Our
. Is that after all what we are expecting here? A struggle for survival? What chance do we have of destroying Grant’s forces? Even Bragg, with all his fantasies, must know that, despite his love of this marvelous ground. Grant surely knows he can punish us from every direction. How much can we defend? And for how long?

The rider came at a gallop, and Cleburne watched him, saw the familiar face of Hardee’s courier. Captain Buck moved up beside him, said, “Looks like somebody’s in a hurry, sir. That’s Hankins.”

“Now we shall find out what is happening. Some word of what is required of us.”

“Yes, sir. Appears so.”

The rider halted, no smile from a man who usually brought a measure of good cheer. Hankins did not dismount, said, “General Cleburne! General Hardee offers you his respects, and directs you to march your division here positioned, to the far right flank of this ridge.”

Cleburne glanced at Lookout Mountain. “The right? Are you certain about that, Lieutenant? The fight appears to be on the left.”

Hankins pointed northward, along the crest of the ridge. “There is no mistake, sir. General Bragg has received reports that the enemy has crossed the Tennessee River along both sides of Chickamauga Creek, well beyond our right flank.”

Cleburne felt a sickening turn inside, thought of the rail depot, the lone bridge to the north of the great ridge, the single brigade he had sent that way. “How many of the enemy?”

“I do not know, sir. General Hardee is most insistent that you march your entire division that way, with the purpose of protecting our right flank. The general is profoundly concerned that should the enemy make headway along this very ridge, or should he move past our right flank and seek to push in behind us, this army will be considerably disadvantaged. He is most insistent, sir. Are you familiar with that terrain to the north of this ridge, sir?”

“Been there once. If you recall, Lieutenant, I was ordered up that way to the rail depot only two days ago, to put these men on the railcars to Knoxville.”

“Yes, of course. The situation is most … fluid, sir. General Hardee has ordered Major Poole to the crest of Tunnel Hill, to await your arrival. The major will provide you with details as to your disposition on those heights.”

Cleburne looked again at Lookout Mountain, the fog thinning, flashes of fire clearly visible along the face of the hill. He climbed up on his horse, saw Buck, the rest of the staff taking his cue, pulling themselves into the saddle. Hankins seemed impatient, as though he had someplace far more important to be.

“May I report to General Hardee that you have received, and understand, his instructions, sir?”

“By all means, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir. I must return to headquarters. The enemy’s assault on Lookout Mountain has upset the usual decorum there.”

“General Hardee’s headquarters?”

“General Bragg’s, sir. Forgive my impudence.”

Cleburne appreciated the man’s sarcasm, understood the kind of “decorum” Bragg seemed to embrace. “Go, Lieutenant. My respects to General Hardee. We will march northward with all haste.”

Hankins saluted him, spun the horse around through the muddy ground, moved away quickly. Cleburne motioned to his staff, to mount up, and Cleburne moved to his own horse, patted the wet hair, calming himself as much as the animal. He pulled himself into the saddle, said to Buck, “Get word to each brigade commander to put their men to the march as quickly as possible. This is not the time for dallying.”

Mangum said, “Sir, forgive me, but the only fight I hear is … that one.” He pointed out toward Lookout Mountain. “We’re to march the opposite way?”

Cleburne was in no mood for a discussion, even from his former law partner. “I am quite certain there will be further orders. Right now, I am following the only order I have been given. You and Captain Buck will ride with me. Bring two couriers along, and the guard. We shall move out to Tunnel Hill, and see if we can locate Major Poole. Major Benham, you will see to the brigade commanders. Let’s go.”

Already, men around them were moving away, junior officers taking
command of their men, some heading for the stacked muskets, some seeking a last handful of warmth beside low fires. Cleburne spurred the horse gently, wouldn’t aggravate the animal, not when he needed to stay upright in the saddle. Buck followed, rode up closest to him, said, “Sir, Mangum is right. The fight is … back there.”

“We are not ordered to engage in any fight, Captain. We are marching to protect a hill. General Hardee would not create this move on his own. General Bragg has his reasons, and I must believe that he also has an instinct for the inevitable. Unless General Hardee orders me to change position yet again, our mission is to prevent the enemy from sealing off our means of retreat.”

Farther to the north, the ridge rose high above deep ravines to both sides, heavily wooded crevasses that laid between the ridge and several smaller hills to the east. Toward the far north end, the ridge dipped lower, then back up to a bald knob, what the local citizens referred to as Tunnel Hill. Beyond the hill, the ground flattened out up toward South Chickamauga Creek, where, farther to the east, the bridge was already being guarded by the brigade of Lucius Polk.

Tunnel Hill itself was mostly hemmed in by thick, wooded ground, but the name came from the passage of the rail line that came north from Chattanooga, passing through the mountain itself, before reaching the depot. The rail line west of the ridge passed through the wide plain where Grant’s army now encamped, and all throughout the campaign, that stretch of track was useless for any kind of passage, easily within range of the artillery batteries on either side. East of Tunnel Hill, the tracks offered a vital artery that moved not only toward Knoxville, but made a connection to the Western & Atlantic Railroad, what could provide an avenue of escape for Bragg’s entire army.

The guard moved out in front of him, nervous men not accustomed to leading their commander through what seemed to be an empty forest. Cleburne appreciated their vigilance, knew as well as they did that the tall trees down below them could hold an enemy sharpshooter, that a lone general would make for a favored target.

He could see the round knob of Tunnel Hill to the front, halted the
men, felt the need for caution. He stared out toward the river, a mile away, but the mist and fog was spread all across that part of the field, the river itself nearly invisible. Someone was sent out here, he thought, maybe men on both sides, peeking up over every ridgeline, a quick glance from behind every tree. And someone convinced the commanding general that the enemy is out here in force. I’d rather see that for myself.

“Let’s go. We’re supposed to find Major Poole out there somewhere.” He pulled out his pocket watch, said aloud, “Just past two o’clock. Plenty of time yet. Dark by, what, Captain? Six thirty or so?”

Buck said, “Yes, sir. The rains will bring it on more quickly.”

“The rains will not continue forever, Captain, no matter if it seems that way. We must assume the enemy is waiting for a bit of sunshine before he reveals just what he’s intending to do.”

Cleburne looked back toward Lookout Mountain, the haze too thick to see anything at all. He listened for the rumble of that fight, faint echoes, nothing to tell him there was still a fight at all. I suppose, he thought, we should be told something of that by tonight. General Bragg seems to relish parceling his army out into small pieces, expecting, I suppose, that we can each fight our own private war. He kept his thoughts to himself, had no reason to share that kind of dismay to his staff officers.

“Let’s move out, gentlemen. Major Poole is no doubt anxious for our arrival.”

He kept them to the main trail, glanced toward the river, still little to see, the rain mostly a thick mist now. They rode downward, thickets of dense brush to both sides, the guards eyeing the ground with nervous glances. The trail climbed again, and to the front, the ground cleared, a bare knob, Tunnel Hill. The guards spread out, and Cleburne moved past them, saw the lone officer, his horse off to one side nibbling on a patch of low grass. Cleburne halted the horse, the officers behind him doing the same, and the man seemed desperately relieved to see him, rushed forward, a quick salute.

“General Cleburne! Thank the Almighty you have arrived! I am most pleased to receive your company, sir. I am considerably unprepared to defend this hill by myself. I am reinforced by a half-dozen signalmen out there. Not reassuring, sir.”

Cleburne cringed at the announcement of his rank, the sergeant of his guards reacting with an angry grunt. Cleburne dismounted quickly, moved close to the man, said, “Major Poole, it is not in my best interest that you announce to God and anyone else who might hear you, just who I am.”

Poole seemed to understand his indiscretion, made a sharp nod, spoke in a whisper, “My apologies, sir. You are quite right. It has been somewhat trying up here, sir. I am only accompanied by a squad of signalmen, who are even now on that far hill to the northwest. I do not care so much for … isolation. Not with such enemy as seems to be making their way to this side of the river.”

“What enemy? Who? Where are they?”

“Sir, this morning, a company of cavalry under Colonel Grigsby was patrolling near the mouth of Chickamauga Creek, and reported the presence of several brigades of the enemy, forcing a landing on this side of the river. Colonel Grigsby did not have the orders to engage the enemy, and did not believe he had the strength to prevent the crossing. He sent word of this to General Bragg, and withdrew his horsemen so as not to alarm the enemy. Sir, General Hardee urges you in the strongest terms to march your entire division in this direction. You are familiar with this ground, sir? Tunnel Hill?”

“We’re standing on it, I believe. I was here once before, when I was ordered to send my division off to another campaign, using the railroad.”

“Yes, of course, sir. The railroad. Sir, have you marched a brigade to the bridge?”

Cleburne was surprised how much Poole knew, that clearly Hardee had kept him informed just what Bragg was insisting on.

“Yes, General Polk’s brigade should be in position there now. My orders were to guard the depot and protect the railroad bridge. But who am I guarding against?”

“Sir, it is essential that I convey your orders. Please, if you will follow me …?”

Poole walked away quickly, glancing back impatiently for Cleburne to follow. Cleburne obliged him, the two men moving to the far reaches of the knob, Poole pointing out.

“That’s northwest. That hill is called, regrettably, Billy Goat Hill. Foolish names for such places. It’s about a half mile from this peak to that one. General Hardee orders you to deploy one brigade on that eminence. You will deploy the remainder of your division along this ridge, securing Tunnel Hill, and the ridgeline to the south. Your left flank shall make contact and attach to the right flank of General Walker’s division, as it now sits. Thus you will be extending our main line northward, to include this terrain.”

“Major, are you aware that termination of our lines, General Walker’s division, is nearly a mile behind us? If I extend my men to attach to that flank, my lines won’t be heavy enough to hold back a squad of cavalry. I am assuming that General Hardee feels this ground is extremely valuable, and is under considerable threat. Would it not be
wiser if additional troops are shifted northward, in support of my own position covering these hills?”

“Sir, any judgment as to what is
wise
lies with General Hardee. I was ordered to place your people on these hills.”

“Well, Major, I’ll have my men up here as quickly as I can march them, and we shall make every disposition to protect this high ground. But you will return now to General Hardee and advise him that I must have support to the south. If the enemy drives below these hills, and strikes this ridge to the south, my entire division will be cut off. I will not have that, Major.”

Poole seemed to absorb the situation, said, “Walker’s near a mile that way?”

“Very near that, Major. It is a weakness in our position that could offer the enemy an opportunity. Go
now
, Major.”

The man seemed to grasp the gravity of what Cleburne was telling him, moved quickly to his horse, a hasty salute, then galloped away southward, the trail Cleburne had just ridden. Cleburne looked to Captain Buck, said, “Go now to General Smith, and make sure word gets to Lowrey and Govan as well. All three brigades are to move as rapidly as possible to this ground. Double time. No complaints, Captain. Get those people up on these hills.”

“Yes, sir!”