A Stillness at Appomattox (26 page)

2
Shadow in the Night

Never
before
had
there
been
a
night
like
this
one.
A
reek of
wood
smoke,
powder
smoke,
and
the
dreadful
odor
of burned
bodies
hung
in
the
air,
soiling
the
night
and
dimming the
stars.
There
was
no
silence.
Pickets
and
skirmishers
were nervous,
firing
at
everything
and
at
nothing,
and
from
the
rear there
was
a
steady
rumble
and
murmur
as
troops
marched
up to
take
new
positions.
From
miles
of
scorched
ground,
up front,
there
was
an
unceasing
crying
of
wounded
men.

Usually
wounded
men
on
the
battlefield
did
not
make
a great
deal
of
noise.
The
bad
pain
generally
came
later
on,
and while
men
here
and
there
might
moan
and
cry
out
and
call for
water,
most
of
them
took
what
they
had
to
take
in
a stunned,
half-dazed
silence.
But
this
night
was
different.
The underbrush
was
aglow
with
stealthy
fires,
and
the
ground
was matted
with
dead
leaves
and
dry
pine
needles,
and
the
terror of
the
flames
lay
upon
the
field
so
that
men
who
could
not move
screamed
for
comrades
to
come
and
help
them.
On
both sides,
stretcher-bearers
tried
to
do
what
they
could;
but
it
was very
dark
and
the
woodland
was
a
creepy
maze,
and
anyway a
man
who
went
out
to
help
the
wounded
was
very
likely
to be
shot.
A
Federal
wrote
that
"the
Rebels
were
fidgety
and quick
to
shoot,"
and
a
Confederate
officer
said
the
Yankee skirmishers
made
it
impossible
for
his
troops
to
help
wounded men
who
lay
only
a
dozen
paces
outside
of
their
lines.
¹

Behind
the
front
there
was
ceaseless
movement:
steady tramp
of
long
columns
getting
into
place
for
the
next
day's fighting,
and
a
confused
coming
and
going
of
stragglers
and broken
squads
and
companies
hunting
their
proper
commands.
In
all
of
this,
too,
there
was
a
restless
stirring
by veteran
soldiers
who
were
operating
a
strange,
unofficial,
and highly
effective
little
system
by
which
the
enlisted
man
kept himself
informed
about
things.

After
every
battle,
men
by
twos
and
threes
would
slip
away from
their
bivouacs
and
wander
up
and
down
the
lines,
visiting
other
campfires
to
exchange
information.
They
were
always
welcomed,
and
they
were
always
watched
quite
closely, because
they
were
notoriously
light-fingered
and
would
steal any
haversacks
that
were
within
their
reach.
The
army
called these
men
"news
walkers,"
and
they
were
in
fact
amateur
and self-appointed
reporters,
hunting
the
information
by
which they
could
judge
how
the
battle
was
going,
what
army
morale was
like,
and
what
the
prospects
were
for
the
morrow.
They were
on
the
prowl
tonight,
and
one
of
Hancock's
gunners told
how
he
and
his
mates
would
look
up
from
their
campfires
to
see
"shadowy
forms
hurrying
rapidly
through
the woods
or
along
the
roads."
The
gunner
described
their
method of
operation:

"Frequently
these
figures
would
halt,
and
then,
seeing
our fire
with
men
around
it,
they
would
issue
forth
from
the
woods and
join
us.
They
would
sit
down,
filling
their
pipes,
light them
with
glowing
coals,
and
then,
with
their
rifles
lying across
their
knees,
ask
for
the
Second
Corps
news,
inquire
as to
our
losses
and
whether
we
had
gained
or
lost
ground,
and what
Confederate
command
was
opposed
to
us.
They
would anxiously
inquire
as
to
the
truth
of
rumors
of
disaster
which they
might
have
heard
during
the
day.
They
would
listen
attentively
to
what
we
said,
and
it
was
a
point
of
honor
not
to give
false
information
to
these
men.
And
they
would
briefly tell
the
Fifth
or
Sixth
or
Ninth
Corps
news,
and
quickly
disappear
in
the
darkness."

So
it
went
tonight,
with
the
smoky
tainted
air
heavy
under the
trees,
and
men
who
had
fought
all
day
were
hiking
for miles
to
find
out
what
had
really
been
happening.
Their
system
was
effective.
It
was
notorious
that
no
headquarters
announcement
was
believed
unless
it
jibed
with
what
the
news walkers
picked
up.
Often
enough
the
soldiers
had
a
better line
on
the
situation
than
the
generals
had,
and
when
they criticized
strategy
or
tactics
they
usually
knew
what
they
were talking
about.
As
the
movement
finally
died
out
and
the
men turned
in
for
such
sleep
as
they
could
get,
the
army
had
a pretty
fair
notion
of
what
had
been
happening
and
what
was apt
to
come
next.
²