A Stillness at Appomattox (74 page)

Altogether,
it
took
the
Confederates
rather
less
than
a quarter
of
an
hour
to
break
this
attack
and
destroy
the
attacking
column,
and
it
is
quite
conceivable
that
in
this
particular
fight
the
Rebels
lost
no
men
whatever.
A
few
days later,
when
men
met
between
the
lines
during
a
truce
to
bury the
dead,
a
Confederate
officer
told
one
of
the
New
Hampshire
men:
"It
seemed
almost
like
murder
to
fire
upon you."
²⁵

And
this,
strangely
and
terribly
enough,
was
the
battle
of Cold
Harbor—a
wild
chain
of
doomed
charges,
most
of
which were
smashed
in
five
or
ten
minutes
and
none
of
which
lasted more
than
half
an
hour.
In
all
the
war,
no
attack
had
ever been
broken
up
as
quickly
or
as
easily
as
this,
nor
had
men ever
before
been
killed
so
rapidly.
The
half
hour's
work
had cost
the
Union
army
7,000
men.
²⁶

Yet
if
the
attack
was
quickly
over,
the
fighting
did
not end.
For
the
most
amazing
thing
of
all
in
this
fantastic
battle is
the
fact
that
all
along
the
front
the
beaten
men
did
not pull
back
to
the
rear.
They
stayed
where
they
were,
anywhere
from
40
to
200
yards
from
the
Confederate
line, gouged
out
such
shallow
trenches
as
they
could,
and
kept
on firing.
Behind
them
the
artillery
continued
to
hammer
away relentlessly,
and
all
day
long
the
terrible
sound
of
battle
continued.
Only
an
experienced
soldier
could
tell,
by
the
sound alone,
that
the
pitch
of
the
combat
in
mid
-
afternoon
was
any lower
than
it
had
been
in
the
murky
dawn
when
the
charges were
being
repulsed.

The
fighting
went
on
and
on,
only
now
it
was
carried
on by
men
who
had
just
taken
the
worst
beating
of
the
war, men
who
lay
on
their
bellies
in
the
dust,
a
sheet
of
Rebel bullets
just
overhead,
piling
little
mounds
of
earth
in
front of
them,
rolling
behind
these
to
load,
and
firing
as
best
they could.
Now
and
then
orders
came
up
from
the
rear—brought by
officers
or
couriers
who
crept
across
the
open
on
their hands
and
knees—to
renew
the
assault.
When
such
orders came
the
men
would
fire
a
little
faster
than
before,
but
no one
would
get
up
to
charge.
They
were
not
being
mutinous about
it;
getting
up
was
simply
impossible.

The
long
day
wore
away,
and
the
heat
and
the
flaming guns
seared
the
great
plain,
and
wounded
men
between
the lines
were
hit
and
broken
apart
by
the
flying
bullets
and
the exploding
shell.
One
of
Grant's
staff
officers
rode
up
on
a little
hill
and
looked
forward
through
his
field
glasses.
An officer
of
a
battery
of
field
artillery
posted
on
the
hill
asked him,
sarcastically,
if
he
could
see
Richmond.
The
staff
man said
that
he
could
not,
but
that
he
expected
to
be
able
to
do so
very
soon.

"Better
get
the
barrels
of
that
glass
rifled,
so
they'll
carry

farther,"
said
the
gunner.

That
night
a
private
in
the
VI
Corps
wrote
to
his
parents: "If
there
is
ever
again
any
rejoicing
in
the
world
it
will
be

when
this
war
is
over.
One
who
has
never
been
under
fire
has
no
idea
of
war."
²⁷

3
Secondhand Clothes

Life
began
with
the
darkness.
All
day
long
the
men
out In
front
huddled
close
to
the
ground,
dust
in
their
teeth,
a glaring
sun
pressing
on
their
shoulders.
To
peer
over
the
rim of
earth
that
lay
between
the
firing
line
and
the
enemy
was to
ask
for
a
bullet,
and
it
was
almost
certain
death
to
try to
go
to
the
rear
for
any
reason
at
all—to
have
a
wound dressed,
to
get
food,
to
fill
a
canteen
with
muddy
warm
water, or
to
attend
to
a
call
of
nature.
Death
was
everywhere,
its
unspeakable
scent
in
every
breath
men
drew,
the
ugly
whine of
it
keening
through
the
air
over
the
flat
whack
of
the sharpshooter's
rifle.
On
distant
elevations,
obscure
in
the quivering
haze,
there
were
the
guns,
cleverly
sited,
and
the gunners
were
prompt
to
fire
at
anything
that
moved.
From one
end
of
the
army
to
the
other,
men
endured
heat
and thirst
and
nameless
discomforts
and
waited
for
night.