The Battle of the Crater: A Novel (22 page)

“I don’t know what you mean,” Meade said coldly, eyes narrowing.

“… and now made worse in that I have agreed to take the colored division into my corps.”

“That was not popular with some. I didn’t see any of my other corps commanders leaping for them to join.”

“Their loss, my gain,” Burnside retorted. “I don’t give a good damn what color they are as long as they can fight.”

“And will they fight when this scheme of yours blows up?”

“Hell, yes, they will fight. They have every reason to fight.”

“We’ll see,” Meade replied, his voice pitched low. “We’ll see. Just remember, this country can’t stand another Fredericksburg.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

JULY 27, 1864

I
t was an hour before dawn,
O
rion rising over the eastern horizon but already beginning to be washed out by the first faint streaks of sunlight, which promised another scorching day.

In spite of the cool morning chill, the men standing to either side of Garland were panting hard. They had run through the drill four times during the night.

He could see the faint outline of Sergeant Major Malady, standing with the commanding officers of the five regiments of their assault column. The other four regiments were just two hundred yards away to the west, yet nearly invisible in the early light.

All could sense that something was different, that something was in the air. The drills had gone almost too perfectly, the cussing of the sergeants had diminished. In this last charge, they had just stood back and let the men go through their paces. Signal to attack … axmen race forward, followed by men carrying footbridges, followed by column. Clear obstacles, cross the moat, up the parapet, lay down the footbridges, charge across, sprint six hundred yards, pivot and turn to the right deploying into line of battle.

It had gone like clockwork.

The officers broke away from the conference, calling their men to attention. The men of the 29th, who had the task of pivoting at a right angle as soon as the trench was crossed, were coming across the field, falling in with their comrades of the First Brigade of the Fourth Division.

Malady stepped before them, the order being shouted for the men to ground arms and stand at ease.

“You black bastards…” he started, and some of the men stiffened. When the hell would this man ever relent?

“Your drills with me have ended,” he continued.

“Well, thank Jesus for that,” some wag grumbled from the ranks, and there was a low ripple of laughter.

Malady ignored him.

“The next time you do this, you will be doing it for real—for real. It is not many days off, so those of you thanking Jesus now better start praying good and hard, because more than a few of you will be standing before him soon enough.”

There was no laughter now.

“Within the next day or so you will all be briefed on the exact details of this charge and any questions you still have will be answered.”

Malady acted as if he was beginning to turn away, then he paused and looked back at the men standing in the shadowy twilight.

“I am going in with you. I have volunteered to stay with your brigade commander. I am doing that because, God and all the saints help me, I must of lost my mind but I think you are some of the finest soldiers I have ever trained.”

They stood there stunned.

“Dismissed!”

HEADQUARTERS, GENERAL AMBROSE BURNSIDE
10
A.M.

“That, gentlemen, is your objective,” Burnside announced, pointing westward.

The nine regimental commanders of the Fourth Division, most of them with some of their staff and sergeant majors, stood around him, joined by brigade commanders and their division commander Ferrero.

Russell stood with field glasses raised, trained on the Rebel fort eight hundred yards away. Garland, shading his eyes, leaned against the parapet of this, the main Union defensive line.

The ground before him sloped down rather sharply. Before war had come, this had most likely been pasture land. There had been a few stands of trees, all of which had been cut away within a matter of days for fuel, for the building of parapets, and to clear fields of fire. At the bottom of the open valley a stream meandered, with footbridges crossing it every hundred yards or so. There was also a railroad line, or what was left of it. It had once been one of the four main lines that came into Petersburg, but it had been seized and cut in the opening days of the battle and rails and ties had been torn out by the men to use for building positions.

The ground then sloped up sharply until, about two thirds of the way up the slope, there was a raw jagged line of red earth and sand, the forward Union trench. At regular intervals, zigzagging “covered ways”—communications trenches covered over with boards, logs, and planks, which in turn were mounded over with dirt—linked the main line to the forward trench. The covered way directly in front of where they stood had been widened out over the last month so that men marching four abreast could quickly move its entire length up to the front line.

What now held the focus of Garland’s attention, though, 130 yards beyond their forward trench, directly on the crest of the opposition ridge, was the Rebel line. In a straight line directly across from them was Fort Pegram, a high, earthen-walled compound 40 yards or so wide and half as deep, a full battery of guns within and garrisoned by an entire regiment. That one fort alone could hold off an entire division. A line of well-built entrenchments and parapets jutted from either flank of the fort, running along the crest of the hill. In front was a jumbled maze of the ubiquitous abatis, chevaux-de-frise, and trip holes. Even to Garland’s unpracticed eye, it looked as if not just a division but an entire corps could be slaughtered trying to take those heights.

“I call your attention to the road beyond the fort,” Burnside announced, gesturing back toward the Rebel lines. “It is six hundred yards beyond the fort. That is the Jerusalem Plank Road. To our left, that road is the only link to Lee’s forces holding the line further to the west. Cut it and they are cut off. To our right, going northeast and then north, the road leads straight into Petersburg, little more than a mile away. Its strategic worth is obvious and that shall be your goal. That is what you have drilled for.”

No one spoke for a long moment.

“And, sir, you think charging at night with our men will achieve that?”

It was the commander of the 32nd, and his voice was filled with doubt.

“I think it is time to tell you the rest of the plan, gentlemen, the ace up my sleeve,” and he smiled at what he felt was a little joke, but no one chuckled.

“A tunnel has been dug under Fort Pegram. It is being finished today. Starting tomorrow ten tons of powder will be packed into its galleries, which fan out underneath that fort. Three days from now, at three-thirty in the morning, just at first twilight, that charge will be detonated, the largest explosion ever witnessed on this continent. Fort Pegram is doomed; all that will be left is a gaping crater nearly two hundred yards across.”

The doubts and dread of but a few minutes before were now replaced with excited chatter. Burnside grinned at them as if having just presented a coveted gift.

“That is what you have been drilling for in secret,” Burnside announced. “That is why there was a fort between your two columns, but you were not allowed to step near it. Rather than a fort there will be a smoking crater thirty to forty feet deep. I think, men, that thirty seconds after that explosion, the Rebels for a quarter mile to either flank will be fleeing in terror, and many of them will be in need of changing their britches.”

Now there was some laughter.

“It is during those moments of panic that you will charge. I think the chances are high that you will hit trenches and parapets devoid of a single living Reb.”

He gestured down to the open valley below them and between the two lines.

“Four hours before the assault is to begin, your regiments will be positioned down there, in the open, on the far side of the creek closest to the Rebel lines.

“Your positions will be staked out, guides assigned to get your men into place. Backpacks, blanket rolls, tin cups to be left behind. Full cartridge boxes with forty additional rounds in pockets. Canteens are to be topped off full and strapped under your belt before departing. Bayonets will be sheathed, and every weapon inspected to ensure it is not loaded.

“You must impress upon your men that if but one man coughs, talks, trips, or makes a noise it could very well alert the Rebs and place the whole plan in jeopardy. Do we understand that, gentlemen?”

There was a chorus of assertions.

“The moon?” one of them asked.

“That is one of the reasons it is so urgent to do the attack this week. If we go in on the thirtieth, it will be three days from a new moon. The attack is to begin at three-thirty just as it is starting to rise and it should not pose a threat. We will be into their trenches and past them, and at that moment, the bit of light we get from the moon plays to our advantage.”

“Still, sir, to deploy that close, out in the open little more than three hundred yards from their lines?”

“I’ve weighed the risks and benefits,” Burnside said solemnly. “Your men are well trained. They will know to keep absolutely silent, and besides, the field all the way from here down to the creek will be packed with men as well.”

They were silent, looking over the crest of the parapet. Several dull thumps echoed and three mortar shells rose up from the Rebel line, arcing up, obviously aimed at them. No one spoke, judging the flight of the shells.

“No loss of dignity, men, if we duck down,” Burnside announced and they needed no encouragement. One of the three shells impacted within a dozen feet of the front of the parapet and detonated, spraying them with dirt.

There were some nervous chuckles as they stood back up, brushing the dirt off their uniforms.

“Someone’s taking an interest in us,” one of them announced.

“As I was saying,” Burnside continued, studiously ignoring the occasional musket round that zipped nearby. “The other three divisions of the Ninth Corps will deploy directly behind you. Even before you reach the Jerusalem Plank Road, those three divisions will follow. The next in column will push through to reinforce those of you holding the road and together push on to seize the high ground of Blandford Church Cemetery, while the next division will widen the breach at the point of breakthrough. The last of the four divisions will move forward as our active reserve.”

He hesitated, but then smiled.

“There has been some debate, but it is all but certain that following us will be two additional corps. But gentlemen, you will be in the lead. Do you know what that means?”

Some nodded, all were silent.

“Your signal to go will be the instant the mine detonates. And believe me, it is something you can’t miss and you will tell your great-grandchildren about. The instant the Rebel fort begins to lift into the air, your men are to be up and going forward.”

“That does seem mighty close,” one of the colonels offered. “Shouldn’t we wait till the explosion settles down?”

“My engineers tell me that it could be a minute or more and debris might be thrown several hundred yards or more. Frankly, there is some concern it just might panic some of our own men, as well, so make sure you carefully brief your men that this is going to be one hell of an explosion. But it will also clear the way for them. They must leap forward instantly and with élan. This is going to be one hell of an explosion, the biggest any of us have seen or will ever see. I’ve decided we don’t wait, we will be up and going in.”

He paused.

“And, yes, I do expect some casualties in our own ranks from debris raining down, but I believe they will be fewer than what we will take from enemy fire if we wait. Besides, the sight of the explosion going off and your two columns emerging out of the smoke and confusion will only add to the Rebel panic.

“Those of you in the column to the right will be in the vanguard of the breakthrough. You will lead the way. Gentlemen, it will be your troops who will seize Blandford Hill and from there be the first to storm into Petersburg.”

He smiled expansively.

“And it will be you of the Fourth Division of the Ninth Corps who will go down in history as the ones who led the charge that took Petersburg, and then on to Richmond. With Richmond gone, this war will be over. That is an honor you and the men of your command, the men who were once slaves or the descendents of slaves, will carry with pride to their dying day.”

Another shell winged in, and they ducked. One of Burnside’s staff suggested it was time to get back into the bunkers and no one objected.

Garland saw that his colonel was not yet ready to leave, though. He was leaning against the parapet, gazing out across the valley and to the fort beyond. Garland went up and stood respectfully to one side.

Russell seemed lost in thought and Garland remained silent until finally his colonel stirred, looked sideways at him, and tried to smile.

“Sergeant Major, what do you think?”

“Sir, the 28th is ready. We will be in the lead, sir, and think of it—” He could not contain his enthusiasm. “Sir, we will be in the lead clear into Petersburg. It will be the 28th that does it. I say, by the great Jehovah, we can do it if any men can.”

Russell turned to face him.

“Sergeant Major White, I have been in this war since the beginning, and I’ve heard such things said too many times…”

He looked at Garland, drew closer, and put his hand on the sergeant major’s shoulder.

“Never mind, Garland. This evening you tell the men the plan and let’s pray it goes as planned.”

“Sergeant Major White?”

Garland turned and saw the artist, James Reilly, approaching, extending a hand.

Garland took it warmly and then introduced him to Colonel Russell.

“I noticed you hanging around, watching the training and such,” Russell said, and there was a touch of wariness in his voice.