A Chain of Thunder: A Novel of the Siege of Vicksburg by Jeff Shaara

Author:Jeff Shaara
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: War & Military, Action & Adventure, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 0345527380
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2013-05-21T00:00:00+00:00

Army corps commanders will push forward carefully, and gain as close position as possible to the enemy’s works until 2:00 P.M. At that hour they will fire three volleys of artillery from all the pieces in position. This will be the signal for a general charge of all the corps along the whole line.—Major General Ulysses S. Grant—Special Order 134

The order had been passed down to the most junior officers, those men surrounded now by their small commands, Willis standing among two dozen seated men who sat in silence as the order was read. Willis recited from memory, no time to put all of this to paper, stared out toward his platoon, a nodding glance toward Captain McDermott, who stood out to the front of his entire company. To one side, a cluster of horsemen stood tall, their voices hushed, hands pointing, a variety of flags scattered out in the field around them. Men rode away now, others coming close, and Bauer watched the scene play out, could see agitation, anger in the brass.

Now Willis was close beside him, said in a low voice, “We’ve got a hell’s gambit in front of us, Dutchie. It’s after one-thirty. The captain said he just got this order. Strange. This sorta thing ought to be passed along a whole hell of a lot sooner than the time we start the advance. Has to be somebody’s mistake. Don’t like mistakes, not from the brass. Dammit anyway.”

Bauer looked at him, saw tension in black eyes, knew that look too well. Whatever demons drove Willis to stand up to the enemy were at work now, the man’s words clipped, each one a small punch. Bauer whispered, “We’ll do all right, Sammie. These boys are eager, no doubt about that.”

Willis seemed not to hear him.

“Wouldn’t be Grant doing that. Had to be some jackass staff officer, taking his sweet time putting on his fancy sash and polishing his damn sword before he decided to get out here and put that order in our hands. Not McPherson, either. Good man, I think. For a West Pointer.”

That answered a question for Bauer, his own uncertainty about their corps commander, a man few of the foot soldiers would ever see. From the beginning of training there was a prejudice against the men from West Point, generals who had learned of war from books. But no one faulted General Grant, not after Shiloh, and even the crankiest veterans had begun to concede that book learning might not be such a bad thing for those men who made the decisions.

Bauer said, still in a whisper, “You think General McPherson’s a good one? Didn’t know about that.”

Willis looked at him, no change in his hard expression.

“You think it matters? He gonna make you a better fighter, or make sure you’re safe? Shut up, Dutchie. I gotta get out front, meet with the captain, the other lieutenants.” He paused. “We better be ready, that’s all I can say. The rebels might run, but the river’s at their back.

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