A Stillness at Appomattox (160 page)

No
one
did
any
fancy
talking
about
it,
and
it
is
probable that
very
little
fancy
thinking
was
done.
It
is
even
possible to
doubt
that
many
of
the
veterans
were
consciously
voting for
freedom
and
Union.
At
bottom,
what
counted
most
may have
been
nothing
more
than
a
simple
refusal
to
admit
they could
be
beaten.
An
officer
wrote
that
"they
were
unwilling

that
their
long
fight
should
be
set
down
as
a
failure,
even though
thus
far
it
seemed
so,"
and
that
probably
says
it.
The men
were
not
quitters,
and
when
it
came
time
to
vote
they said
so
according
to
their
understanding
of
the
case.
But
it is
not
hard
to
agree
with
the
New
England
soldier
who,
looking
back
after
the
war,
remarked
that
the
Army
of
the
Potomac
was
never
pluckier
than
when
it
voted
by
a
big
majority for
Lincoln's
re-election
and
the
continuation
of
the
war.
⁸

Not
long
after
the
soldiers
had
cast
their
ballots
the
army was
ordered
to
load
all
of
its
cannon,
train
them
on
suitable Rebel
targets,
and
fire
100
rounds
from
each
gun—a
colossal salute
in
honor
of
Sheridan's
victory
at
Cedar
Creek.
There had
been
many
salutes
of
that
kind
this
fall—salutes
for
Sheridan's
army,
and
for
Sherman's,
and
for
victories
by
the
Navy —and
it
seems
to
have
occurred
to
no
one
that
although
this army
was
constantly
firing
salutes
to
celebrate
somebody else's
triumph,
no
one
was
ever
firing
salutes
for
the
Army of
the
Potomac.

Its
role
was
inglorious,
as
men
then
figured
glory.
It
won no
victories
and
earned
no
applause;
its
job
was
just
to
hang on
and
fight
and
make
final
victory
possible.
By
election
day the
army
had
been
in
intimate
contact
with
its
foes
for
six unbroken
months.
During
all
of
that
time
there
had
been two
or
three
days
when
contact
was
maintained
by
cavalry alone.
All
the
rest
of
the
time,
in
sunlight
and
in
darkness,
infantry
and
artillery
had
been
in
action
somewhere
along
the front.
During
August,
September,
and
October—months when
the
front
was
relatively
inactive—the
army's
siege
artillery
alone
threw
nearly
six
tons
of
shell
every
day
into the
Rebel
lines.
⁹

The
Confederates
gave
as
much
as
they
received.
A
Pennsylvania
soldier
whose
outfit
was
moved
into
Fort
Sedgwick that
fall
wrote
that
"we
are
now
in
fort
hell
and
it
seems pretty
much
like
it.
On
Tuesday
of
last
week
the
Rebs
threw 132
mortar
shells
into
our
camp
.
.
.
last
Friday
they
threw 129
.
.
.
every
few
days
we
have
to
practice
on
dodging shells
to
save
our
top
knots."
Artillerists
on
both
sides
had
a way
of
firing
any
kind
of
scrap
iron
when
there
was
work
at close
quarters,
and
a
soldier
who
was
wounded
by
such
a salvo
in
a
fight
near
Drury's
Bluff
explained:
"the
damned rebels
fired
a
whole
blacksmith
shop
over
here,
but
nothing happened
to
hit
me
but
the
anvil."
¹⁰

In
such
ways
as
they
could
the
soldiers
tried
to
make things
easier
for
themselves.
During
daylight,
the
picket
lines did
little
or
no
firing.
When
dusk
came
the
men
would
call across
to
each
other,
"Get
into
your
holes!"
and
the
shooting would
begin.
In
some
parts
of
the
line
the
rival
marksmen agreed
to
fire
high,
and
if
someone
accidentally
put
a
bullet close
to
his
enemies
there
would
be
an
angry
protest.

Even
the
IX
Corps
began
to
find
trench
life
a
little
easier. Its
colored
division
was
transferred
over
to
the
Army
of
the James,
and
when
the
Confederates
learned
about
it
they dropped
their
old
habit
of
shooting
to
kill
every
time
a
member
of
this
luckless
corps
raised
his
head.
When
the
corps was
moved
down
to
the
left
of
the
line,
where
there
was
a considerable
distance
between
the
trenches,
one
man
wrote that
"it
was
a
great
relief
to
be
able
to
stand
upright
without the
certainty
of
being
shot,"
and
another
said:
"It
doesn't seem
like
war
here.
We
can
walk
clear
over
to
their
picket line
and
trade
coffee,
tea,
etc.,
for
articles
of
theirs."