The Star of Gettysburg: A Story of Southern High TideAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Star of Gettysburg: A Story of Southern High Tide
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
Harry expected to hear the patter of rifles. Surely the battle would
open at once. But there was no sound of strife. It seemed instead
that a great silence had settled over the two armies and all between.
Perhaps each was waiting for the other to make the first cast of the
dice.
Harry studied Lee's face, but he could read nothing there. Like Jackson
he had the power of dismissing all expression. He wore a splendid new
uniform which had recently been sent to him by the devoted people of
Virginia, and with his height and majestic figure, his presence had
never seemed more magnificent than on that morning. It was usually he
who opened the battle, never waiting for the enemy, but as yet he gave
no order.
Longstreet, Hill and Hood presently joined Lee, and the four walked a
little higher up the ridge, where they examined the Northern army for a
long time through their glasses. Lee must have recognized the strength
of that position, the formidable ridges, the stone walls bristling with
batteries, all crowned with an army of veterans more numerous than his
own, and, even when Stuart and Pickett should come, more numerous yet
by fifteen thousand men. But his army, with the habit of victory, was
eager for battle, sure that it could win, despite the numbers and
position of the enemy.
The generals came back, but Lee said little. Harry often wished that
he could have penetrated the mind of the great commander that morning,
a mind upon which so much hung and which must have been assailed by
doubts and fears, despite the impenetrable mask of his face. But he did
not yet give any orders to attack, and Harry and Dalton, who had nothing
to do but look on, were amazed. There was the Army of the Potomac
waiting, and it was not Lee's habit to let it wait.
Slow though the sun was, it was now far up the blue arch and the day was
intensely hot. The golden beams poured down and everything seemed to
leap out into the light. Harry clearly saw the Northern cannon and
now and then he saw an officer moving about. But the men in blue were
mostly still, lying upon their arms. The troops of his own army were
quiet also, and they, too, were lying down.
It suddenly occurred to Harry that no more fitting field for a great
and decisive battle could have been chosen. It was like a vast arena,
enclosed by the somber hills and the two Round Tops, on both of which
flew the flags of the Union signalmen.
Yet the day drew on. The two armies of nearly two hundred thousand men
merely sat and stared at each other. Noon passed and the afternoon
advanced. Harry yet wondered, as many another did. But it was not for
him to criticize. They were led by a man of genius, and the great mind
must be working, seeking the best way.
He and Dalton and some others lay down on the grass, while the heavy
silence still endured. Not a single cannon shot had been fired all that
day, and soon the sun would begin its decline from the zenith.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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