Confederates Read Online Free

was himself, a moderate, a man who wished this whole mess had never got started. He had a lot of power exactly because he fetched from the same part of the state as the General. It was a wonderful thing for a politician to have a successful general from his own constituency. Boteler, who had once been an operator in the U.S. Congress and was now an operator in the Government in Richmond, knew just how wonderful it was.
    A politician of less flexibility than Mr Boteler might have objected to the price the General was demanding today. How many Congressmen would be willing to creep forward past the pickets and spy on the Yankee hosts from behind fences and cottonwoods? Well, Boteler was willing, and it was just as well. General Jackson thought nothing of bringing any civilian out here to witness the state of the Yankee camp and soul. Jefferson Davis himself better beware – he might find himself out here one morning next week.
    They kept low behind the fence and followed it uphill. Soon they could stand full height amongst the cottonwoods and tall undergrowth. How tall was the summit of the hill? A hundred and fifty feet maybe. Two hundred. But in that flat land it was like a peak in Darien. Boteler and General Ewell put their binoculars to their eyes. Sandie handed General Jackson his.
    Quoting the young Alabaman, Sandie briefed them where to look. There was little need for his instructions, even with the naked eye you could see the Federal camp on the James. Tents and waggons floated in a haze that still clung to the flats round Harrison’s Landing. But with the binoculars you could see more. You could see first the blue-coated pickets in the wood three hundred yards away. If they knew there were two Confederate generals and a Congressman on this knoll they would send out a cavalry squadron to bag them. But they didn’t do much that was adventurous any more, not after last week. Jackson knew exactly the feelings of the boys over there. Brave enough, they wondered if the Rebs weren’t braver still and they began to wonder too about their generals, even about their beloved McClellan. Jackson could read their doubts as he gazed at them through the lenses.
    Beyond the pickets and their line of forest some batteries were placed behind fences and earth embankments, and beyond that stretched the vast Union bivouac itself. The Yankees had been bottled up there for some days now and it looked like a well-arranged encampment. There seemed to be the beginnings of pathways amongst the tents. But not all the Union army enjoyed the luxury of canvas. Along with fifty-two pieces of artillery, thousands of stands of sidearms, much beef, pork, flour, coffee and molasses, the Federals had as well lost a few tents last week.
    Yet it was a town, that camp. As big as Richmond. A hundred thousand men lived there, however uncertainly. You could see somewhere in the centre a great military band playing songs of home, and hymns and tunes to ginger up doubtful souls. You could see ships of the U.S. Navy in the deep-water reaches of the James two miles away.
    The General spoke to Mr Boteler. ‘I’d like you to just take note of the location of the artillery parks, Mr Boteler. Not up forward, as if they ever mean to turn their guns on us. They’re down by the landings. Plain as day, it’s intended they should be ready to be taken on board ship. The great Mac has his bags packed and he’s already decided to leave all defence to those gunboats out there.’
    â€˜I believe you’re right,’ said Mr Boteler, letting his binoculars fall and hitching his thumbs, farmer-wise, in their straps.
    The General’s voice became both low and fierce. ‘Well in that case, do you agree we’re losing time here?’
    â€˜Oh?’
    â€˜Well, we happen to be repeating the old mistake we made last year after Manassas. They are being given a free gift, namely, time to recover. And what are we doing here, apart