Traveller (30 page)

Then up come Old Pete, and right off I could tell, without asking Hero, that he was in a real bad mood. As the two of ‘em came up, Hero must ‘a done something he didn't like, ‘cause he spoke sharp to him and jerked on his bit. That turned Hero sulky and he didn't even answer back my nicker, so I jest held still and waited to see what would happen next.

Old Pete started straight in talking to Marse Robert in a voice which would certainly have upset me if'n he'd been talking to me from the saddle. But Marse Robert, he jest listened, polite and undisturbed as usual. Once't or twice't I felt him shake his head, and ‘nother time I felt his hand close into a fist on the reins. I began to feel angry myself. All I could tell was there was something Marse Robert felt we ought to be doing—something important—and Old Pete didn't want to do it.

After a while, Marse Robert dismounted. Dave came up and took my bridle, and Marse Robert left Old Pete and began walking up and down in the trees. By this time more of our generals had arrived. Red Shirt was there—'twas his fellas that we'd come up on in the fight the day before, of course, when we'd ridden towards the sound of the guns. Then the young Texas general rode up, and he went straight over to talk to Marse Robert. I remember Marse Robert pointing out over the plain and I heared him say something ‘bout we must beat those people or else they'd beat us. But after that Old Pete spoke to the Texas general where Marse Robert couldn't hear, and ‘far as I could understand he was saying he didn't want to attack—or not yet anyways.

After a bit the Fat General with the big black beard come up, and Marse Robert talked to him, too. I could see he was telling him what he wanted done, but then all of a sudden Old Pete broke in on what the Fat General was answering, and said, “No, sir. No, sir, I don't want that—” or something of the kind. Marse Robert jest said real quiet, “No, General. I want it jest there, please,” and pointed.

If ever I seed a man all riled up, ‘twas Old Pete jest then. I don't think the Fat General knowed what to make of it at all. After a bit more talk he jest saluted and went off—to get his fellas ready for the battle, I s'pose.

There was a real bad feel to things, and the way it ‘peared to me, the day had started all wrong. Soon after that we rode away, Marse Robert and me, back to the town. I'd never knowed no time before when Marse Robert had ‘peared so strung-up. That battle in the snow, when we'd stood all day by the guns on the hill, he'd felt to me like a big rock in a field, with the Blue men breaking theirselves to pieces on it over an' over. Even when the gun blowed up right next to us, he hadn't moved a muscle. Now he seemed edgy—not hisself at all—riding here and there, not stopping anywhere for long, fidgeting in the saddle and asking questions of ‘most everyone we met. I decided Old Pete must have upset him bad.

When we reached town, the Bald General warn't anywheres around, but we found one of his commanders, who took us to a house with a sort of a little tower atop it, and Marse Robert went up there to have him a look-see. Well, I didn't need to go up no tower to see that now those two hills out beyond the town was jest stiff with Blue men. Sure ‘nuff, we hadn't managed to put ary guns or fellas up there. By the time Marse Robert came down, the Bald General had rode up. They got to talking and I seed Marse Robert pointing up at the hills. He said something ‘bout the enemy being in a good position, and I figured he was real disappointed the Bald General hadn't done more since last night.

We started back with Colonel Long, but Marse Robert said very little on the way. He seemed to be listening all the time—listening for something that didn't come. I know now what it must ‘a been; he was hoping to hear Old Pete's guns starting the battle. He felt we shouldn't be waiting about. I remember we rode close to a gun position, and Marse Robert spoke sharp to their officer for not limbering up his guns and getting ‘em forward. The officer told Marse Robert he'd made a mistake; he warn't one o' them as was meant to go—he belonged to Red Shirt. Marse Robert said he was sorry, civil as you please, and then he asked, “Do you know where Longstreet is?” I've never knowed him sound so impatient, not before or since. Soon after that, he even started leading one bunch of our fellas forward hisself.

Well, in the end we did find Old Pete, but he still hadn't started his attack. While him and Marse Robert was dismounted and talking, I told Hero straight out that I reckoned it warn't right to disregard Marse Robert's orders thataway. All he said was “Oh, go to the slaughterhouse, Traveller. What do you know about it?”

“What do any of us know about it?” I said. “I know who's s'posed to be commanding this here Army.”

“We'll attack when we're good and ready,” snaps Hero, and after that he wouldn't say no more at all.

Well, I'd jest as soon not tell you, Tom, ‘bout the rest of that day. What it come to was that what was meant to happen didn't. Marse Robert and me kept a-riding up and down our lines. The fellas was all laying up in the trees and brush along the ridge, and the sun got hotter and hotter till every horse and man was jest ‘bout half-crazy with thirst. We left Old Pete for a while, but later we jined up with him again while he was leading some of his fellas down the slope and forward towards t'other ridge—the one the Blue men had got theirselves settled atop of. The soldiers was jest a-pouring with sweat and all those boots was kicking up a power of dust, real thick. ‘Twas as much as a horse could do to catch a breath of air, and this was ‘bout four hours after the middle of the day, too.

This time Marse Robert and me didn't go forward with the attack. He turned me back up the ridge and we went off to find Red Shirt. He dismounted, I remember, and for a while he was talking to Red Shirt and Colonel Long and some more; but most of the time he spent jest a-sitting there on an old tree stump, a-listening to our guns firing down below. And do you know, Tom—you're not going to believe this—from somewhere way off by the town, I could hear one of our bands playing— playing away real lively? True.

I never did jest rightly understand the rest of that day myself. There was fighting sure ‘nuff, but ‘twas all too far off for me and t'other horses up on the ridge to take in anything much, ‘cepting for the battle smoke and the guns and the yelling. Still, one thing was for sure. Marse Robert and me, we never went forward, like we had in the swamps the year before, or like the day after Cap-in-His-Eyes marched away into the forest. So I guessed that our fellas out there couldn't be driving the Blue men like we generally did. ‘Nother thing that seemed out of ordinary was there was so few horsemen coming and going where we was at. Marse Robert only sent one horseman out all that afternoon, and ‘far as I can remember only one came to headquarters.

What I think now, after all this time, is that our fellas could surely have beat the Blue men good and proper, but the trouble was we didn't all attack together. I remember Joker saying something like that the same evening. “They're not doing what Marse Robert meant ‘em to do,” he says to me. “It's all got out of joint—different lots coming different times, and all the Blue men got to do is sit up there and hold their ground.”

By the late evening Marse Robert was in one of his silent, pondering moods. “What's the trouble?” I asked Leopard—that was Major Venable's horse. “We're not beat, that's for sure.” “No,” said Leopard, “but Marse Robert was hoping to beat
them
, and the trouble is they're still sitting up there where they was this morning.”

‘Twas dark now, and sultry and airless, too; the night seemed real close and oppressive. There was still some muskets firing, but no more guns. After a while the moon came up, out beyond the enemy's ridge, and the whippoorwills began calling among the trees, setting out for hunting. Marse Robert—yes, Tom, he did-—he found the time to come and talk to me and Dave while I was being rubbed down and fed and watered. He was fondling me around the neck and stroking my nose, like he often did; and then, jest as Dave had gone off to fill a bucket (or half-fill it, ‘cause there warn't all that much water to go round), “Oh, Traveller,” he says, so quiet that only I could hear him. “Oh, Traveller, we can still beat them. We've won a lot of ground, and the men are in good heart. We
can
beat them, Traveller! Tomorrow we'll beat them!” Then Dave come back and Marse Robert began talking to him ‘bout what he thought might be a little strain in one of my fetlocks. He'd be needing me next day, he said. Dave told him he figured I'd be fine.

I couldn't honestly have told anyone I was feeling fine when Dave saddled me up again after a few hours' rest that felt like half a feed of thin hay. T'other headquarters horses looked as rough as I did. I remember one of them, a mare called Ivy, actually stumbling over the stable threshold and falling on her knees. Dave led me on over to where Marse Robert was waiting. He looked tired, too. I was beginning to wonder how much longer anyone, horse or man, could go on like this. And yet if I'd only knowed, we'd hardly started.

‘Twarn't a still morning, like the day before. There was a bit of wind and a light haze, with blowing clouds dimming the stars. I could smell ‘nother hot day coming, though. There was plenty of gunfire already, ‘way off in the direction of the town. Soon's he'd mounted me, Marse Robert rode off t'other way, ‘long the ridge, to see Old Pete.

Old Pete was jest as full of talk and argument as he'd been the day before, but though Marse Robert listened as patient as ever, all he had to say, near as I could understand, was that our fellas was going to attack the way he wanted.

They rode up and down together for quite a while, looking out acrost to where the Blue men was—too far for me to make out anything much at all. Old Pete seemed sort of aloof and glum, but Marse Robert, he kept stopping every now and then to talk to little groups of soldiers, or to ask some officer a question or look at a gun position. Once't he told a young gunnery officer to get hisself back from out in front, where the Blue men might hit him. I couldn't help wondering whether he was remembering the Little General and poor Chieftain that day last fall.

Three times that morning we rode the whole length of our lines along the ridge. The sun had gotten high before we was done; there warn't a cloud in the sky and it seemed hotter'n ever. ‘Course, up there there warn't a creek in sight, nor any water at all that I could smell.

All the time, our guns was being pulled forward ahead of the infantry. I remember seeing two of them huge white Percherons that we'd commandeered, a-hauling and a-straining on a gun to heave it out of a dry rut. A hundred yards or so further on, a limber driver with the sun in his eyes cussed at Marse Robert and told him to get out the way ‘fore he ran him down. We jest rode on and Marse Robert kind of hunched hisself over so the man wouldn't see who he was. All the guns that hadn't already come down the day before was dragged down off the ridge and sited ‘longside a road running ‘tween our fellas and the Blue men. Marse Robert and me rode all along them. You jest can't imagine, Tom, how many there was. My withers! I thought; if'n that outfit's going to start firing together, I jest hope I'll be able to stand steady.

The gunners all seemed easy and full o' jokes, but that was more'n could be said for most of their horses, waiting behind the caissons. A lot of ‘em looked starved—ribs stickin' out, coats all rough and staring. It's all right for
you,”
says one of them to me. “You don't even know what a counter-barrage is, do you? How many of us do you think'll be left by tonight?” I didn't answer him. I never used to answer mules or artillery horses. What could I have said, anyway?

‘Twas the real burning middle of the day when Marse Robert and me and the rest of headquarters stood waiting on the forward edge of the ridge for the guns to commence to firing. Red Shirt and Old Pete was sitting together with Marse Robert on a log for a while, but then they got up and went different ways. Marse Robert and me, we rode a little ways down the slope. Behind us, a lot of our fellas was laying down under the trees, waiting. You could smell them in the heat, and I could smell they was afeared, too. I remember seeing two-three fellas making their way back of the bushes to drop their pants.

‘Twas still for quite a while. Then, from down along the road, come a single gun, and then another. That must ‘a been a signal, ‘cause a few moments later there followed a noise ‘nuff to make you wonder whether the earth was going to smash to bits. The ground was all a-shaking, and I seed several horses bolt and whole groups a-rarin' and having to be held in hard. Men laying side by side couldn't even shout to each other. I've heared guns in my time, Tom, but never a barrage like that. They was all a-firing at once't—what's called salvos, you know. And ‘twarn't more'n a minute or so before the Blue men's guns began firing back. You could see the flashes and hear the bangs from t'other ridge. I'd say they must have had guns firing all along for a good two mile, near as I could tell. Very soon the smoke and dust blotted out everything. ‘Twas like being shut up in the dark with a cloth over your head. All that reached me from outside was the feel of Marse Robert's hands, and Marse Robert's voice saying, “Easy, Traveller—easy, now, boy!” You seemed to be choking on that gun smell, ‘twas so thick in the air. You couldn't see the sun nor hardly the sky—only great streams of black smoke a-floating high up, like clouds. Every now and then a shell'd hit one of the ammunition chests ‘longside our guns, and there'd come a huge roar, and fellas screaming so I reckon the Blue men theirselves could have heared them over on t'other ridge. Sometimes the shells landed in among our infantry laying under the trees. More'n once't I seed the stretcher-bearers carrying off some poor lad crying and clutching hisself and bleeding all over the ground.