“Well?”
“You see where we are?” (A nod.) “Lowell says that our losses, killed, wounded, and missing, are between three and five thousand, and more than twenty guns, to say nothing of transportation. He thinks he can hold on where he is for forty minutes longer, possibly sixty.”
I can see him before me now as I write, erect, looking intently in my eyes, his left hand resting, clinched savagely, on the top of the hilt of his sabre, his right nervously stroking his chin, his eyes with that strange red gleam in them, and his attenuated features set as if cast in bronze. He stood mute and absolutely still for more than ten seconds; then, throwing up his head, he said:
“Go to the right and find the other two divisions of the Sixth Corps and also General Emory’s command [the two divisions of the Nineteenth Corps]. Bring them up, and order them to take position on the right of Getty. Lose no time.” And as I turned to mount, he called out: “Stay! I’ll go with you!” And springing on his horse, we set off together, followed by the staff.
In a few moments we had reached the head of the nearest division we were seeking. It was ordered on the line—I think by the General himself; and as I started for the head of the other division, he ordered me to ride directly over to General Emory’s command (two divisions of the Nineteenth Corps), and order it up, to take position in line of battle on the right of the Sixth Corps. I rode over to General Emory’s line, which was about a mile away, and found his troops in good condition, though somewhat shattered by the fortunes of the day, facing towards the enemy, and half covered by small ledges of rock that cropped out of the hill-side. On receiving the order, he called my attention to the fact that in case the enemy advanced on the Sixth Corps, he would be nearly on their flank, and he thought best that I tell the commanding general of the fact, as it might induce him to modify the order. Galloping back, I gave his suggestion to the General.
“No, no!” he replied. “Get him over at once—at once! Don’t lose a moment!”
I fairly tore back, and the troops were promptly put in motion for their new position, which they reached in due time, and were formed in line of battle in accordance with General Sheridan’s orders.
After the whole line was thoroughly formed, I rode over to my chief and urged him to ride down it, that all the men might see him, and know without doubt that he had returned and assumed command. At first he demurred, but I was most urgent, as I knew that in some instances both men and officers who had not seen him doubted his arrival. His appearance was greeted by tremendous cheers from one end of the line to the other, many of the officers pressing forward to shake his hand. He spoke to them all, cheerily and confidently, saying: “We are going back to our camps, men, never fear. I’ll get a twist on these people yet. We’ll raise them out of their boots before the day is over.”
At no time did I hear him utter that “terrible oath” so often alluded to in both prose and poetry in connection with this day’s work.
As we turned to go back from the end of the line, he halted on the line of the Nineteenth Corps and said to me: “Stay here and help fight this corps. I will send orders to General Emory through you. Give orders in my name, if necessary. Stay right on this line with it.”