web view... after playing this poor fool farmer for a while i can’t help but feel sorry ......

Ongoing Ross Notes for The Killer Angels, 2014-2015

Introductory Notes Follow-up-- Commanders Info. Not in Profiles and Perspectives Power Point

The Army of Northern Virginia: A very happy army, impressed with its record for good reason, confident in its leaders for good reason. It is a remarkably unified group, sharing a Protestant religion for the most part, as well as the values of the South, and they all spoke English. As much as they are unified, they fight to dissolve the Union. (Lovely irony Shaara points out.) Don’t forget, just because it’s called the Army of Northern Virginia, IT’S CONFEDERATE, SOUTHERN, REBEL—whatever you want to call it.

Robert E. Lee: He was the only cadet in the history of the Academy up until that point who had NEVER earned a demerit! Also, he had no obvious vices—didn’t smoke, swear, chew tobacco, gamble, drink. In short, he was used to being and to being seen as a very good, upright, and moral man. He had sworn allegiance to the United States of America—sworn to protect her with his life, and then along comes the war and he is forced to choose between 2 really, really bad things. He had never publicly done anything bad, and now there’s the little matter of treason when he takes up arms to defend a different country against the U.S. It’s a problem that lingers but that he pushes out of his mind in the book. Lee, along with most of the other commanders in the novel, is fighting because it’s his job. He’s an army man, war broke out, this is what they do. He avoids the “Cause” of the South—states’ rights. He wants honor in all things, of course, because ultimately he needs to answer to God.

Longstreet: Three of his four children had died in an epidemic that swept certain areas of the country the previous winter. He could not prevent it, and because he is inarticulate (which is another really important thing to know), he could not find the words to comfort his wife, either. Neither one was strong enough to handle the funeral details, so George Pickett and his intended, Sallie Corbelle, made all of the arrangements. Longstreet is a dad who was unable to protect three of his small children. He is also a general, a corps commander, responsible for many, many men. Think about it. He is having a crisis of faith that was sparked by the deaths of his children. He doesn’t believe in honor in the abstract, although he is an honorable man. Victory in battle is the only thing worth all of the deaths occurring under his command. He was great at poker when he used to play because he often shows little emotion; nevertheless, he is one of the deepest, most nuanced characters in the novel. Note how often he’s compared to a rock. There’s a steadiness and a certainty about him; stubborn to the last, he is as honest as he can be with Lee.


Pickett: In addition to being loveable and childlike in character, he has become engaged to a woman of 19 and has vowed to abstain from alcohol to please her. He graduated last in his class at West Point. Watch him through the novel.

Richard Ewell: Take note of his wound from Bull Run. There was a long recovery, and this is his first battle since losing his leg (he has a wooden leg). He has never commanded a corps—kind of like someone who is really good in the classroom trying to run a school. It’s much harder than it looks for Ewell; perspective changes as he is now in charge of 3 times as many men. He’s in over his head but no one knows that for sure until it’s too late. He takes advice from the wrong man—the one man who can be relied upon to put his own self-interest above absolutely everything else—Jubal Early, a division commander. At least Ewell is honest and doesn’t try to justify himself.

A. P. Hill: He’s belligerent and often does not work and play well with others. He had honest-to-Pete challenged Longstreet to a duel right in the middle of the war when Longstreet was his commanding officer. (Lee settled it.) He’s not fond of following orders, which can be awkward for anyone who isn’t Stonewall Jackson. He’s very much a career military guy and is unwilling to accept the word of recent recruits. This causes a significant problem in the battle. Some might call it hubris, some misguided experience, but at any rate, he is mistaken in a big way. His illnesses on battle days are real—he isn’t faking. Since he is so high-strung, it could be attributed to nerves.

Lewis Armistead: The important thing here is what a good guy he is and how he interacts with the other officers. Watch his conversations with Longstreet about the army, Lee, Garnett, and watch how carefully he broaches the subject of Hancock on the other side of the battlefield. He is haunted by a personal vow he made. An honorable man, he’s been put into an impossible position of loyalty to his home or to his best friend. He struggles with a sense of guilt that many Confederate officers feel; his just seems more personal.

Richard Garnett: It’s hard to imagine what honor costs some men. Garnett’s perspective that it’s better to die with honor than to live without it is very common among the Virginia, old money, landed gentry set. We can scarcely conceive of it, but there’s no other recourse in


Garnett’s mind. Living with his personal character in doubt is not an option. He must also be thinking of his family because whatever he does during the war will reflect on his family after the war. He had no chance to vindicate himself in court, so his only option is to blot out the stain from Jackson’s unjust accusation by dying nobly in battle. Lee has never been a fan of court-martials, ignoring the paperwork for as long as possible because he knows he can’t spare the officers from the field. In many cases, Lee himself is able to settle problems that arise, but in this instance, it might have been better to give Garnett his day in court.

J. E. B. Stuart: The best cavalry general in American history, it’s hard to believe that he doesn’t come through at the precise time when it’s most crucial for him to do so. Despite his longstanding record, some Confederate generals are so mad at his failure this time that many want to court-martial him. While Lee won’t agree to the court-martial, he must find a way to communicate with this most valuable soldier the degree to which he let his army down. Stuart is theatrical and tries to resign very dramatically, which actually angers Lee. He’s the only person Lee speaks sharply to in the novel, and even then he softens up at the end. History vindicates Stuart, but Shaara doesn’t let him off easily. It’s difficult to overstate just how good this man was, literally riding rings around the Union. One thing that’s changed is that the Army of the Potomac has picked up the pace now that it has to defend its land from the attacking enemy, a one-and-only situation, the significance and logical consequences of which many, including Stuart and Lee, underestimate.

Jubal Early: Not very popular, the big deal with this guy is his influence over Ewell. It makes a huge difference to the Confederates’ chances. Ewell must take the blame for what were ultimately his decisions for inaction, but there’s no question that Early has his own interests at heart when he persuades Ewell. Early seems to play on Ewell’s uncertainty. He’s really good at blaming others, too—watch for it.

The Army of the Potomac—SLOW is the main characteristic of this army. It is vastly dissimilar in make-up, with soldiers of different religions, ethnicities, cultures, and even languages joining together to keep the Union intact. There’s been a horrific revolving door of generals after


General McClellan got the boot, each one seemingly worse than the last. There is good reason that an army of their superior numbers routinely gets beaten by an army of superior generals. This time, though, the army is pretty brisk in stepping back onto its own soil to throw out the invader.

Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain: He’s a professor, so he lives in his head. He thinks things through, uses a textbook maneuver that a seasoned officer would likely never have used, and saves the 2nd day for the Union. He’s in charge of a regiment only, but it’s the placement of that regiment at the flank of the Union line that makes his stand heroic. He has a Cause in the beginning, a theory of freedom for which he is willing to die. Watch him once the fighting starts. It’s astonishing to see how quickly he will lose sight of that Cause. He’s haunted by his instinctive decision to put his own brother in a vulnerable position in the fighting, knowing that as a commander it was the only decision to make, but having a hard time coming to terms with the fact of it. He finds a number of qualities within himself that he hadn’t known were there. Be careful—his chapters have a stream-of-consciousness style that can be hard to follow. Just go with it—try to get a feel for where his thoughts are wandering. He is one of the few featured officers who is not a professional soldier—those who fight primarily because it is their jobs. War is not Chamberlain’s job. He signed up for this.

John Buford: Some of the best characterization of Buford is in the very first Buford chapter before the fighting even begins—he is a professional and therefore does not hate. He is one of the many career officers who fight because the military is his profession. He is pragmatic, teaching his men tactics the Native Americans have used successfully against the U. S. in the many battles between the two. He is cynical because the leadership in the Union army has been so poor. He tends to talk to himself because he’s used to being by himself out West. He does what he thinks is right and gives the Union their most practical reason for hope by doing so (having the high ground). He has a vision of what will happen if he doesn’t do what he eventually decides to do, and he is right. It’s dramatic irony—it does happen, but because of Buford’s decision, it happens to the South instead of the North. Buford has had trust issues in the past involving committing his cavalry to a fight and anticipating needed backup, only to be denied backup and left for the butchering. He doesn’t trust many of the generals who have attempted to lead this Army.


John Reynolds: The best the Union has to command the Army of the Potomac, he declines because of the ineffective way Washington has decided to prosecute the war. It’s his First Corps that needs to arrive in time for Buford’s decision to bear fruit. John Reynolds is one of the few generals who is reliable enough that Buford trusts him, which is saying something. Also, Reynolds compliments Buford on July 1—it’s just a little thing, but it means a lot to Buford. At the end of the day, it is Reynolds who springs to the forefront of Buford’s mind in a poignant moment of pride and grief under a star-filled sky.

George Meade: Characterized as ineffective and self-protective (or perhaps ineffective BECAUSE he’s self-protective), Meade has little impact on the storyline except here and there. He complains about the darkness at night, promotes Hancock on the field of battle, and takes a survey at the end of July 2. Note that survey. It is quite telling. It is also his call not to pursue the Confederates on July 3 after Pickett’s Charge. Lots of speculation about that in history—but it was a tougher call than it looks like in hindsight. History is kinder to Meade than Shaara is.

Winfield Hancock: Armistead’s best friend, Hancock is a charismatic man whom others naturally turn to. He salvages the shreds of the 11th Corps at the end of Day 1. He’s the best they’ve got to defend against Pickett’s Charge on Day 3. What kind of guy wears a white shirt into battle?? And how does he keep it so white?? I’m just saying. We don’t hear much from Hancock, but we trust Armistead’s assessment of his best friend. Yes, he is from Montgomery County and Hancock Street was named after him. Pretty cool, right?

June 29, 1863 SECTION

June 29, 1863, Chap 1, The Spy

Harrison is his real name, and he’s very good at what he does. It’s dangerous to cross a picket line (posted, armed sentries surrounding a camp) at night. Looking like a Pennsylvania farmer is not the safest thing in that situation. His information is accurate. The most important role he plays is when Shaara says that, on June 29, 1873, he is perhaps the only person alive who knows exactly where both the Army of the Potomac and the Army of Northern Virginia are. His worshipful approach to Lee is not feigned or exaggerated. Lee views him with distaste—an honorable man would actually join the army, not earn a living spying for one, but Harrison never knows Lee thinks ill of him because Lee is too much the gentleman to be let his distaste show. Lee wants to dismiss the information of the spy and tries to—“Stuart would not have left


us blind.” Longstreet won’t let him. Once Lee is convinced that it would be too risky to trust wholly to Stuart, he decides to seize the opportunity and move the army toward battle. It will be very, very difficult to budge Lee when the honor of his favorite cavalry officer is in question. Lee does not want to insult Stuart—the best cavalry officer of all time—by sending out some of the other cavalry that’s available to find him, which is why he delays making the decision. Lee is ultimately responsible for the delay. Keep track of how many references to Stuart’s missing cavalry crop up from here until he actually does show up.

Longstreet is more practical and cynical. He knows Stuart likes to read about himself (in fairness, Stuart was WAY, WAY better than anyone the Union army had ever seen; what he did was noteworthy, which is why so many journalists noted it.) But Longstreet assumes the worst about Stuart and concentrates on the problem at hand. He had paid the spy out of his own pocket. It’s unclear whether this was a common practice or not, but Longstreet may have felt that they needed additional information because they were moving for the first time through enemy territory. If so, he was right, and everyone else who took for granted a slow-moving Army of the Potomac was wrong enough to lose the battle over. Ironically, Longstreet never wanted this invasion in the first place. Maybe that’s why he goes out of his way to make sure they know what’s going on.

Please note how protective Longstreet is of Lee, how he doesn’t want to wake him up, how he wants to be able to take care of it all when he sees Lee in pain (hands). Keep in mind, the Army of Northern Virginia is in Lee’s “hands”, and Lee’s physical hands are weak and causing him great pain. Think of the symbolism. Lee is the “heart” of the southern army, and Lee is suffering from heart disease that will eventually kill him. The camaraderie that comes through war is what Lee is talking about when he says he will miss it very much—not the fighting. We have no peacetime equivalent that I know of. But Lee values people for who they are; he tries to take his men’s strengths and make them stronger.

Note the Shakespearean line Harrison the spy quotes to himself when he is randomly thinking of Stonewall Jackson: “Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” Keep an eye out for other Shakespearean lines/allusions.

Oddly, Harrison has some pretty profound and ironic lines and thoughts for a character that merely introduces the action and then gets out of the way:

He worries about confronting the pickets because there are ”… few men out at night on good and honest business” (6). All the while he is a spy and “…everyone hated spies” (4).

He thinks, “Why do there have to be men…who enjoy another man’s dying” (6) while he’s literally in the middle of a war.


“There are many people, General, that don’t give a damn for a human soul, do you know that? The strange thing is, after playing this poor fool farmer for a while I can’t help but feel sorry for him. Because nobody cares.”

“The war’s almost over. You can feel it, General. The end is in the air.” (OH, THE IRONY!)

Whenever Shaara refers to an angel, in whatever context, pay attention.

June 29, 1863, Chap 2, ‘Chamberlain’

There is a LOT of parallelism in this novel. If you read something that seems familiar from a previous chapter, it may very well be from a chapter representing the opposite side of the conflict. In other words, look for parallels between the people and their relationships on the Union and Confederate sides. Every time you find a parallel, associate it with one of the themes. Shaara characterizes people deliberately—he’d already admitted that his characterization is his own idea of what the people were like. Harrison quotes Shakespeare in Chap. 1; the novel takes its name from Chamberlain’s interpretation of part of a famous Shakespeare soliloquy.

Always refer to characters as the author does: Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain is ‘Chamberlain’ and Tom Chamberlain is ‘Tom.’ Chamberlain is laid out in his tent, weak with heatstroke he suffered on the long march, having refused to ride the horse provided for the colonel of the regiment. He also instructs his brother not to call him Lawrence and not to exhibit anything that might be interpreted as favoritism. He is very much the egalitarian leader, wanting to be with the men, not just in charge of them. It is impractical in the first instance. He doesn’t have the stamina from long years of fighting, so he really does need to ride the horse. He is no use to the regiment if he makes himself sick.

Kilrain is the one wholly fictitious character in the novel, an amalgam of lower-ranking men who were older than Chamberlain, lower in rank, and who helped guide him through since he was so new to battle. He is a REALIST and a father figure to Chamberlain, the IDEALIST.

Note how Chamberlain approaches the mutineers: As soon as he introduces himself he asks them how long it had been since they’d eaten, then he listens to the grievances presented to him by Bucklin, the man chosen to speak for the 120 mutineers from the 2nd Maine (they’ve been fighting since pretty much the beginning of the war while the 20th Maine has only been together since the previous fall). Chamberlain is humane, recognizing first their very human need for food, and then recognizing their very human need to be heard. He does both of those things before attempting to persuade anyone of anything. But he’s not stupid—he knows what it would do to a regiment of 250 to add 100-plus men. He knows they will benefit him more as


soldiers than as prisoners, and here’s the deal: He promises to drop the whole matter for whoever picks up his weapon and joins in the fight, and he promises to represent the men who still refuse to fight as fairly as he can. Note when he thinks about how he can’t shoot them—it isn’t because it would be wrong—it’s because he wouldn’t be able to face people in his home state who knew he’d shot Maine men on purpose. That’s not so noble. What would he have done had they been from Connecticut?

Of course, he does a great job persuading them—he is a professor of rhetoric, which is the art of debate. In all fairness, he truly believes what he is saying. He is ever the professor, but there is that within him that isn’t happy unless he’s allowed to experience war as a soldier. What’s up with that? There’s the added benefit of his believing very clearly that he has the moral high ground, but still—he wants to leave the classroom and go to war. Keep it in mind.

Tom is characterized as the little brother, proud of Chamberlain, maybe a little worshipful, and Chamberlain is seen as having always looked after Tom. This will bring up some pretty heavy internal conflict for Chamberlain, because as a Colonel, it’s his job to order his men into harm’s way (parallel w/ Lee’s “great trap” of soldiering later in the novel). The favoritism that Chamberlain guards against doesn’t, according to him, apply to generals. Tom is grumpy when Chamberlain admonishes him not to use his name in public because Meade has his son as adjutant. Chamberlain then compares generals on a battlefield to God, and references Meade’s “angelic staff.”

June 29, 1863, Chap. 3, ‘Buford’

First of all, this chapter and the next one actually take place on June 30. Buford is a good soldier, a PROFESSIONAL (parallel to Longstreet) who is cynical about the inept commanders who have passed through. Important moments are his assessment of Cemetery Hill and Seminary Hill (Culp’s Hill is there, too, along w/ Cemetery and Seminary Ridge) as beautiful HIGH GROUND. In the cemetery, they can dig in just behind the stone fence that surrounds it. He sees an angel statue, which he actually tries to use as a reference point later. It’s a white angel but stony and sad. What does it represent? Is it a guardian angel? Shaara has a purpose.

Buford’s cynicism stems from his memory of Thoroughfare Gap almost a year ago in Virginia when his cavalry of 3000 had held off Longstreet’s corps of 25,000 for 6 hours. The messages he sent for reinforcements were ignored or refused and they’d experience a terrible defeat and lost the ground, so he has trust issues with superior officers. Fortunately, Reynolds is one of the few Union officers Buford respects, and he is fairly confident Reynolds will respond as long as he understands the situation. Buford is justly cynical about the command strategy from Washington—look at p. 37—how many people have to handle and transmit the message there and back again before Buford can do anything!


Buford’s literal vision, what will happen if he doesn’t dig in or hold the ground, is almost exactly what will happen for the Confederates. Whoever doesn’t get the high ground will be forced to fight uphill, unprotected, and the charge may be ‘valiant’ but it will surely fail. Longstreet has virtually the same vision when he finds out that Lee intends a massive charge on the third day of the battle, and he echoes the sense of futility Buford feels about being roped in to a foolish attack and not even able to just quit, actually being required to stay and help it fail! The parallel is very clear—watch for it!

The measure of the man in this novel often involves his assessment of his opponent. Buford, Chamberlain, Armistead, and Longstreet admire the abilities of the enemy (Longstreet especially cautions against complacency). These are the men for whom the battle is particularly difficult internally; they are the ones whose characters Shaara develops the most. Buford waves to the Reb infantry because you never knew if one of your friends might be over there, which really brings home the reality that this is a war of brothers. (Watch Pickett in the next chapter when he meets the Englishman—same gesture.)

Interesting note: His aides cannot eat until Buford does. For some reason, Buford is seldom hungry anymore. Perhaps it has to do with his wounds (Buford’s weak heart parallels Lee’s uncertain health.)

Tactically, Buford has 3 men dig in and every 4th man fall back beyond range with the horses, which reduces his fighting men by 25% to about 2,225. The horses need to be protected, obviously.

Field of fire is the battlefield, the area over which weapon fire can range.

I don’t know if Buford really had this vision or if Shaara includes it to honor a man whom history seems to have forgotten.

Terms to know or look up: infantry, skirmish, flank, dig in, battery

June 29, 1863 section, Chap. 4 ‘Longstreet’

Note the characterization of Fremantle (absurd) and Pickett (loveable, laughable, not too bright but reliable). Note the kindness of Longstreet toward Garnett—makes a joke, shakes his hand like a valued friend, and speaks slowly and carefully so Garnett will know he’s being sincere (Garnett became “available for this command” in the worst possible way—Lee couldn’t keep him in Jackson’s old Corps after Jackson tried to court-martial him for cowardice, but Longstreet’s point is that it’s their loss and Longstreet’s gain-- he’s glad to have him); note how Armistead watches the encounter and how both try to lighten things up because Garnett is


obviously uncomfortable both physically and emotionally. Note how clueless Fremantle is, and how obtuse is Pickett? Longstreet asks him if Pickett wants him to move the whole army out of the way to let his Division in first, which seems like a great idea to Pickett. Longstreet then tells him if they have to turn around and shoot their way out, Pickett will then be in the lead! Pickett keeps his eye on Longstreet as he goes back to the game because he thinks he might have just insulted him w/out meaning to and he wants to make sure Longstreet isn’t taking offense—the remark about Pickett’s Virginia boys’ being somehow more ready or deserving to get into the fight implies the inferiority of men from other states. Oops. Longstreet’s from South Carolina. Luckily, he’s not the type to take offense at something of that sort.

Armistead mentions to Longstreet privately how much he would like to see Hancock one more time. It’s an awkward thing to say to a commanding officer, but Longstreet takes it in the spirit in which it is intended—these 2 men were closer than brothers. He dismisses Armistead’s concerns and tells him to take the flag of truce and head over if there’s an opportunity. You need to watch to see if he does. Theme connection???

Note Longstreet’s reaction to the Cause (on the Confederate side, states’ rights accorded to them by the Constitution). Every time someone brings up slavery, please note Longstreet’s response or lack of response.

Things Longstreet worries about in this chapter: His dead children and, briefly, his wife; NO WORD FROM STUART and the vulnerability of the army because of it; Lee’s idealism about Stuart, not willing to send other cavalry to find him because it would be a tacit admission that Stuart had let them all down; Garnett’s physical condition; Armistead’s friendship w/ Hancock is about to be strained to the utmost; Pickett may forget something. All that being said, what lies heaviest on him is the blindness. If he knew for sure the physical details of the enemy’s position and the terrain, he could plan for all kinds of contingencies. He knows nothing, can’t plan, and feels helpless. Armistead and the others are in a much better frame of mind because they will follow orders rather than issue them. Longstreet is charged with issuing the orders that comport with Lee’s overall plan, and his overall plan isn’t looking too defensive right about now.

You don’t really need to know Kemper, but it seemed interesting that he’s the only non-professional soldier—he’s a politician—and he’s the only one of the generals introduced who insists on shaking hands with the Englishman who is obviously uncomfortable with that American gesture. The other officers bow to Fremantle as is the custom in England. Pickett does that sweeping bow—the same sort that Buford had seen a Confederate officer do across the field in Gettysburg.


JULY 1, 1863 SECTION

July 1, 1863, Chap. 1, ‘Lee’

There’s evidence of Lee as a father figure to all of his men—note his reaction to Major Taylor about the soldiers’ behavior. I wonder why he lets Taylor get away with calling him “The Great Tycoon” behind his back…

Note the extraordinary characterization of Lee’s and Longstreet’s relationship—as soon as Lee sees Longstreet, he’s happy: he “rose with unconscious joy.” (80) Lee feels “a sudden strength. It came out of Longstreet like sunlight.” (81) He cautions Longstreet to stay back from the front line, to which Longstreet replies, “You cannot lead from behind.” (82) They talk about Stuart—how Longstreet wants him disciplined (kind of like one sibling wanting another one grounded) but Lee, like the father figure he is, asks if that will make him a better soldier, offering reproach as an alternative—the old, “I’m disappointed in you, son” speech, which Longstreet agrees might work on Stuart. Lee reminds Longstreet, “Docile men make very poor soldiers.” (82) Remember this in Chap. 3 when a division commander does something he shouldn’t.

Note the crisis of faith in some of the generals—look for this in the future. In this case, because the Confederates are the aggressors, Dorsey Pender’s wife can no longer pray for him—it’s a big deal. The image of defending the homeland is very different from attacking another’s—to a civilian. (Also note that it is Venable who brings Pender’s problem to Lee—look for Venable later in the novel.) Offering an interesting contrast, the image in a soldier’s mind of an attacking army in control presents a much more honorable picture than one that simply hunkers down in a ditch trying to repel an attack. ‘King of Spades’ is a derogatory term referring to the propensity of Lee’s army to dig ditches for defense – a spade is another word for a shovel. Longstreet, of course, couldn’t care two cents about the perception. He wants to win. Lee had quoted Napoleon to his aide Taylor—“The logical end to defensive warfare is surrender.” (79) He can’t do the defensive thing again because he doesn’t see it as having honor. There’s no glory in defense, but according to Longstreet, there is a chance for victory when the army is so much smaller, now farther away from home, and not as well equipped. There’s definitely a conflict brewing here between the idealist Lee and the realist Longstreet, the father and son, the Virginian bound by honor and faith and the South Carolina general, embroiled in his own crisis of faith, bound by the sacred duty to save his men in order to ensure victory, his only Cause. Nevertheless, Lee can “[T]rust Longstreet to tell the truth” (84) and he recognizes it as sound advice. Lee is characterized as one who recognizes and tries to optimize what is valuable in the men under his command.


Watch the vision motifs—wherever there is fog, clouds, smoke, darkness, sunlight-- anything that impedes or enhances vision. The blind horse in the beginning is a HUGE piece of characterization for Lee.

At the end of the chapter, the artillery that Lee hears bodes ill for the Army of Northern Virginia.

July 1, 1863, Chap. 2, ‘Buford’

Buford’s characterization: He has committed his men to battling numbers several times their strength, and they can only hold out for so long. If Reynolds doesn’t get there in time, the brigades will be destroyed, the Union will lose the high ground, and it would have been Buford’s fault. Note references to vision- when Buford sees Reynolds, he blinks—maybe to be sure he’s not seeing a figment of his imagination-- rubs his face and thanks God. It’s portrayed a little differently in the movie—he tears up, he’s so relieved. Reynolds compliments Buford, tells him he’s done well, that one day if he survives, he may make a soldier. It means a lot to Buford since Reynolds is one of the few superior officers Buford respects. When Reynolds dies, Buford can’t believe it. The scene with the majestic, picture-book general on horseback directing his men leading directly to the bare-backed horse is very evocative. It’s sudden and unreal, both for Buford and the reader. It reminds me of the bare-backed horse in Lincoln’s funeral procession.

The wild-haired child, breaking away from its mother to be gathered up by a soldier and brought back where he belongs—it must represent something. Here’s an idea related to the larger picture: The South breaks free from the “mother country” of the Union, and the army is charged with going forth and bringing back the errant child. Look for another wild-haired child type of person later in the novel. The more difficult question, I think, is why Shaara includes it there, when the rest of the paragraph concerns Buford’s reaction to Reynolds’ death. It starts w/ Buford, “He backed off.” Then there’s the scene w/ the child, and then Buford goes and stands under a tree. WHY does Shaara do this rather than giving the interlude its own paragraph?

Crucial battle information: The Union’s best soldier is killed within minutes of the battle’s beginning; the Union line holds the high ground on Cemetery Hill and Cemetery Ridge because Reynolds’ First Corps has arrived in time and Reynolds issues his orders to deploy the infantry and place Buford’s brigades on the flanks of the line prior to his death. Everyone simply carries out the last orders received.

Crucial info. for the literature of this novel—Characterization of Buford as a realist who knows that if his brigades are destroyed before Reynolds arrives, it will be his own fault, but even so, he can’t see any other way to go about it; Buford is relieved to see Reynolds, which is not typical; the wild-haired child as a symbol of the whole engagement of civil war—and it happens


amid personal and military tragedy. It reminds the reader that there’s still a larger issue, and there’s a job to be done.

July 1, 1863, Chapter 3, ‘Lee’

Remember Pender’s wife in Lee’s first chap. on July 1? The perception among the civilians is that defending their home ground is fine, but attacking is wrong, so Pender’s wife can’t pray for him; ironically, among the ‘good ol’ Virginia boys’ who are all about honor, there’s no honor in hunkering down in a ditch, but one can gain honor in attacking. Longstreet, remember, couldn’t care less about honor. He wants to win. Lee is tired of taking the defensive position regardless, although he most definitely believes they will win any attack; the crucial thing to Lee is to win honor—because it’s all in God’s hands anyway. He recognizes this throughout the chapter and prays briefly when he gets a chance. He is a true man of faith. Nothing can shake his faith.

Note Lee’s characterization in his reaction to Heth (pronounced to rhyme with “teeth”)—he suspends his judgment of the man, which is smart because leaping to erroneous conclusions is what got them into this mess— and note his instinctive acknowledgment that “It’s all in God’s hands”—this philosophy, unshakeable to the end, is what enables him to be calm in the face of pressure. His job is to acquit himself with honor regardless of the outcome. That’s why he wants to attack. While a defensive war lacks the connotation of ‘honorable battle’, he’s also feeling guilty to be the invader this time (internal conflict). It’s sort of lose-lose, but if it’s all in God’s hands, he has no ultimate responsibility other than to do his job to the best of his ability. He is also not one to blame a subordinate, at least not immediately. He focuses on the problem rather than blowing up at Heth. That’s one of the things that makes his subordinate generals love him, and it’s also why reproach from him when it’s all over really would be a constructive type of punishment (remember how court-martialing Stuart wouldn’t make him a better soldier in Lee’s eyes.)

Heth definitely bears blame for allowing his division to become embroiled in an attack against orders, but remember whose faulty information leads him to believe there will only be militia on the high ground (Hill!) and remember who never gave anyone information about anything even though that was his primary job to do so (STUART!!!) Perhaps Lee never even sent Hill the intelligence he received that there was Union cavalry in Gettysburg because he thought that his order NOT TO FORCE A MAJOR ENGAGEMENT BEFORE THE ARMY IS CONCENTRATED was clear enough. But just think, as Heth must have thought, what if it HAD only been militia, or what if Reynolds HAD arrived 30 minutes later? It would have been a bold and brilliant move, to gain the high ground for the Confederacy. “Docile men make very poor soldiers,”remember? Heth


showed initiative at the wrong time, acting upon faulty information, and then he couldn’t restrain his boys once they got started. The thing is, once he realized he was dealing with Buford’s cavalry (unusually good fighting men, Buford’s cavalry), he should have realized that infantry would be nearby. He wouldn’t know exactly what was near because he was at the BOTTOM of the hill. Kind of hard to see through a hill or around it from the bottom…

Also note Lee reacts when told of Reynolds’ death. Rather than reacting as a general whose army has just taken out the enemy’s best soldier, Lee reacts as a man who has lost a friend. He doesn’t commend the sharpshooter or remark on the increased chances for the Confederacy now that their First Corps general is gone. The first thing he does is confirm—“John Reynolds?” and then again, “Are you sure?” After it’s been established, Lee simply says, “I’m sorry.” When he thinks of Reynolds, he thinks of him in a positive light—he is a gentleman and a friend. My conclusion: This is a weird war, truly a war of brothers with good men on both sides. Lee is also extraordinary to be such a strong general and yet such a compassionate man. Look in the upcominc Longstreet chapter for how Stonewall Jackson would likely have reacted!

Note Lee’s directive to Gen. Hill to put fire on Cemetery Hill and to Ewell to take the hill “if at all practicable”. He waits for the sounds that these orders are being complied with, but he’s left Ewell with enough room to wiggle out if he wants. Guess what? He wants to worm his way out. Watch Ewell and Early when they talk things over with Lee in a later chapter.

You should get the sense that the Confederates really feel good about the day’s battle—they were strong and they pushed the 11th Corps (Howard’s corps—it comes up in Buford’s last chap.) back through town. The thing is, the Confederates still don’t have the high ground (thanks to Buford). Lee sees the positive—having pushed the enemy back, he cannot withdraw; Longstreet sees the negative—the Confederates still don’t have the high ground so he is NOT happy.

Note the ever-present conflict between Lee’s and Longstreet’s philosophies: offense v. defense. Look at the perspectives—Lee asks the rhetorical question-- How they can move off in the face of the enemy (honor at stake) and Longstreet takes him very literally, saying in effect—“It’s easy. Just go over there.” He wants to save as many lives as possible in order to gain ultimate victory. Lee wants to get it over with honorably. Only one of them can be right.

There’s vision motif all over the place as well as rock/boulder. Longstreet is like a black rock. Look for more. Also, be alert in the Chamberlain chapter to what the boulder he remembers from his childhood might represent.


July 1, 1863, Chapter 4, ‘Chamberlain’

Chamberlain may be changing OR we may just be noticing things that were not evident before now. Notice the visceral imagery of Chamberlain’s memory of Fredericksburg. Even that scene, when he replays it in his head, is not enough to move him away from his love of this whole enterprise. He doesn’t love it, not quite—which to me seems pretty telling. Does that mean that the sound of bullets thwacking the dead bodies you’ve piled up in a wall to shield you is something he likes but doesn’t love? But right there, while he’s hiding behind the bodies of people who have already met death, he has never felt so alive. Holy cow. I guess he benefits by comparison, but it seems kind of ghoulish. And by the way—where did the Cause go? Here he loves being a soldier because it’s cool, not because it’s for a noble Cause.

Notice Chamberlain’ memory of his dad and the title of the speech he gave, inspired by his dad’s comment on the Hamlet soliloquy “What a piece of work is man?” The response from his dad is significant—if man is an angel, he must be a murdering angel. Chamberlain takes that comment as the title of a speech he later gave—Man: The Killer Angel. Therefore, this book’s title indicates EXACTLY what it’s about—Men!! Men are both killers and angels, on each side of the line: they kill because they’re in a war, and they are motivated by a cause that’s larger than themselves, either Union and freedom or freedom from Union and states’ rights (to own slaves, but they don’t say that). Ironically, many of the professional officers are the ones without a clear connection to a Cause.

Notice his memory of the time Tom got lost in the woods and no one could find him for hours, everyone’s panicking, and then home he wandered by himself, cold but cheerful and unafraid. See if war changes him later. Chamberlain has already been in a position of not being able to help his little brother when he’s been in danger. Now his little brother is under his direct command. Watch for how this plays itself out.

Note the boulder thing tied in with the vision thing in Chamberlain’s dad. He is characterized a lot like Longstreet, actually, and Chamberlain remembers the times his dad had to remove boulders from a field. He instinctively knew the ones it would be possible to move, even though like an iceberg, most of the boulder would be underground. How does he know?? OR maybe they can move it BECAUSE his dad says, “Move it!” Maybe if you don’t know it’s impossible, it can be moved. Consider Longstreet as that boulder: stubborn, seemingly immovable, with far more beneath the surface than what appears on the surface. And yet, he can be moved in certain ways. What moves him? The memory of his dead children, the thought that Lee might be falling ill. Look at the snow in Maine—how visitors might come out in a field and see a bunch of bushes, but those from Maine knew that the ‘bushes’ were really the tops of pine trees and there was 30 feet of snow beneath them! It’s a matter of


perspective. If you live there long enough, you experience the perspective of a different landscape. Experience helps.

There’s a parallel in the “never, forever” sound Chamberlain heard at Fredericksburg with something really important in the only Armistead chapter in the book, in the July 3 section.

Think about Lee—his vision is compromised because he can only see part of the Union Army. How much is beyond his vision? Can he move the boulder of the Union Army despite most of its being beyond his vision? You need both vision and instinct—one without the other will prove inadequate.

Coming up—you’ll be taken to that dark place in Longstreet’s memory when his first child died. The horror of it has obviously been multiplied—and this is the weight he carries with him always, always just under the surface.

July 1, 1863, Chapter 5, ‘Longstreet’

Note the number of references to ‘vision’ in the first 2 pages alone—connected directly to Longstreet. The foundation for Longstreet’s crisis of faith had been laid the previous winter when 3 of his children died within a week of a fever. Now, when Longstreet closes his eyes, this is what he sees; when his eyes are open, ‘It was Longstreet’s curse to see the thing clearly.’ He sees the misery of the past and the hopelessness of the future of this battle should the Commanding General not heed his warnings. These are both realistic visions. His eyes are described as ‘dull’—meaning it’s hard to get a sense of the depth of the man or the acuteness of his intelligence by looking at him. (Connect to Chamberlain’s dad who had the unique ability to see the surface of certain boulders and sense the ones that could be moved.) Never forget how heavy of a burden his memories are for Longstreet. It wasn’t limited to, “’The boy is dead’” from his wife—but his own continued helplessness in the face of that first death. He could not reach beyond his own grief to touch hers—an indictment of himself he cannot shake. Neither could he prevent the other two deaths that shortly followed. The burden of helplessness is especially unwelcome as Longstreet tries to reach Lee, to turn him aside from what Longstreet sees as a doomed offensive strategy. Note that Lee may be a visionary, but he has the type of vision that comes from positive visualization of the best possible outcome (idealism). Longstreet sees realistic consequences of real actions. The Confederates won July 1, 1863, but they don’t have the ONE THING they need for complete victory in the battle: the high ground! (Longstreet always wants to fight on ground of his own choosing. He would of course choose high ground, but Buford already did!)


Notice how Longstreet recognizes his own gloomy tendencies and their effect on the men. His default is the worst that could happen, and that moroseness is something that he carries with him always and recognizes as contagious. It seems a curiously long way from Lee’s assessment, of his feeling “a sudden strength. It came out of Longstreet like sunlight.” (81) There is still strength in Longstreet’s character, but it’s nowhere close to sunlight here.

Note the references to Lee as a gentleman, to Jackson as a superior soldier who knew how to hate—in the same breath as he is described as a Christian. What does that tell us of Longstreet’s crisis of faith? The best indirect characterization of Jackson: “I don’t want them brave, I want them dead.” Note that the line was spoken to his men who had shown mercy to a brave Union color sergeant. The “colors” refer to regimental flags or other flags used to center a formation. It was both a tremendous honor and a tremendous risk to carry to colors. Honor was largely seen as more important than personal risk. Jackson’s men had honored that courage in their enemy; Jackson had no time for anything that wasn’t part of his agenda—win at any cost.

I find the repeated references to Lee as the one who holds the army together interesting. While Lee, like the father figure he is, holds the army together (and we usually hold things with our hands, remember), his STRATEGY of attacking a fortified enemy on the high ground is going to tear the army apart. Longstreet undoubtedly feels this conflict.

Note the references to honor as something that Longstreet has no patience with. Men challenge each other to duels as a matter of honor (as A. P. Hill had done to Longstreet)—but , “Honor without intelligence is a disaster. Honor could lose the war.” (133) and “…but the point of the war is not to show how brave you are and how you can die in a manly fashion, face to the enemy. God knows it’s easy to die. Anybody can die.” (133) Both of these lines are HUGELY important in characterizing Longstreet’s priorities and philosophy. Neither means that Longstreet is not honorable; it’s just that saving lives and making the lives already lost not to have been lost in vain defeat, is his priority.

Hopefully you noted Fremantle’s reference to “The Charge of the Light Brigade” as well as Longstreet’s mental assessment of Fremantle, “Like all Englishmen, and most Southerners, Fremantle would rather lose the war than his dignity.” (134) Chamberlain had already alluded to the poem in a previous chapter. To consider: Which side’s allusion to the Tennyson poem will prove more prophetic? For those not familiar with it, look it up! A doomed charge based on a fatal mistaken command caused hundreds of British cavalry armed only with swords to lose their lives following the order to attack Russian soldiers armed with cannon is often used in parallel to another doomed charge—Pickett’s Charge on July 3 (spoiler alert: Confederates lose the Battle of Gettysburg after Pickett’s Charge.)


July 1, 1863, Chap. 6, ‘Lee’

Lots of references to vision on 1st page of chap. Also—PLEASE notice Jackson’s eyes—the presence of the ghost of Stonewall Jackson condemning Ewell’s hesitance and prevarication. If the Commanding General wants the hill taken, Jackson was a man who would take it. Period. Now his eyes haunt Ewell and his absence troubles Lee. Later Trimble speaks the truth very plainly to Lee—read that whole thing again. It’s right after that when Lee sends out a few remaining cavalry guys to locate Stuart. Lee knows Trimble’s account is true. Don’t forget, either, the distinction between Lee’s orders to take the hill if at all practicable and Ewell’s initial excuse that he didn’t think taking the hill was practical. It isn’t Ewell’s job to decide what is practical. He needs to follow his commander’s orders. As for Lee—he’s used to trusting his corps commanders, but Ewell and Hill are both brand new to commanding a corps, so their trustworthiness has yet to be proven. Lee’s in a tough spot, but his style of command is based on trust in his generals, so he goes with it. Ultimately, his trust is in God. Look for this reference in future chapters.

Note examples of Ewell’s body language. What is he saying without speaking? Note how confident and contemptuous Early is and how ready he is to deflect the responsibility to Longstreet. Then notice Ewell’s ultimate admission of undue caution and Lee’s instant reaction, thinking, “My good old soldier.” (143) Lee forgives and moves on. When Lee singles Ewell out for a final conference, none of Ewell’s nervousness is evident. He is calm and truthful and much steadier. I love that at the very end, Lee lets him know that he knows that commanding a Corps is not as easy as it looks. Lee remembers that this was Ewell’s first day as Corps commander. Kind of like a dad, wouldn’t you say?

Lee prays for the enemy’s best soldier—John Reynolds’ soul—in the same breath as he prays for his son. Lee drifted “into the bright dark” and thought about God’s sovereignty, quoting part of the Lord’s Prayer from the book of Matthew in the New Testament.

Lee thinks on p. 144 about men who suffer the big wounds subsequently acting as if they’d lost a significant part of themselves, which Lee has never understood. He believes that the spirit is the defining part of a man and can thrive regardless of what happens to the body… yet even though this undue caution in Ewell, this self-protectiveness brought on by the loss of his leg, makes the battle that much more tenuous for the Confederates, Lee won’t condemn him. He acknowledges that he must not judge since he doesn’t know what it’s like himself. The man is a man of faith, but his faith does not lead him to assume the moral high ground in comparing himself to others. In fact, he avoids those types of comparisons and is reluctant to assign blame. He remains as clear-headed as any commander regardless of circumstances, although


what is clear to him is different than what is clear to Longstreet. Altogether, despite his flaws, Lee is a remarkable man.

Interestingly, the Union General Howard of the 11th Corps—the one that actually gave the Confederates their first day’s victory by folding under pressure and retreating through Gettysburg—this general is a one-armed general, and it’s not the first time since the wound that he’s folded under pressure. Couldn’t it be that these men have tasted their own mortality and may want to conserve life instinctively, may be reluctant to expose the men under their command to greater risk than is precisely needed? The problem, of course, is that their job is still to follow the orders of the Commanding General who has the bigger picture. Anyway, watch for Howard’s reaction to his own defeat in the ‘Buford’ chapter—then get ready to find out how crucial VISION really is to that Commanding General!

July 1, 1863, Chap. 7, ‘Buford’

This is the last we hear from Buford. The big things here are Howard’s 11th Corps falling apart and Howard blaming Buford. Looking at the map, Buford was down by the peach orchard where he had been placed by Reynolds prior to Reynolds’ death. It doesn’t quite make sense that Buford would support Howard, on the other side of Doubleday. But the point is, the 11th Corps had fallen apart, many had been taken prisoner, and this happened just as Hancock was coming in w/ his 2nd Corps. He sees what’s happening and takes control of what’s left of the 11th, placing them on the high ground, extending beyond where Doubleday’s 1st Corps is. (I believe Doubleday is another general who takes command of the leaderless corps first and gets promoted later). Hancock gets promoted to Lieutenant General on the field of battle and is given verbal command by Meade. The argument of the 2 minions over who is in charge is ludicrous but typical of the Union. Howard is senior officer after Reynolds is shot but before he loses control of his corps, whose retreat gives up a lot of ground (not the high ground) to the Confederates. Howard is the Union corps commander who hands the Confederates their first day’s victory at Gettysburg. Note that Howard is furious, but he doesn’t blame Hancock, recently promoted by Meade himself. He’s not stupid, but he has to blame someone because his career may be at stake—his men had done the same thing at Chancellorsville. This reflects poorly on Howard’s leadership. When Buford goes into the farmhouse used as headquarters, notice that Howard is making a speech while Hancock is giving orders! Remember that Howard is a one-armed general like Ewell is a one-legged general (history is parallel here), and both are ineffective after losing a limb. (At least Ewell takes responsibility instead of assigning blame.)


There is another AWESOME parallel that brilliant students found and pointed out: Back in the first ‘Longstreet’ chapter, when Garnett gets off his horse, we realize that he’s been wounded in the leg. He’s also had charges brought against him (unjustly, if we can believe Longstreet) by Jackson in the form of a court-martial that never takes place. In this last ‘Buford’ chapter in the novel, he has been wounded in the arm, and he has had an (unjust) complaint filed against him by Howard. This is another historic parallel. Yay!!

Prior to Buford’s receiving orders from Hancock, there is a moment of incredible tiredness, the coming of a dreamless sleep. What do you think this foreshadows? Remember the first Buford chapter—he believes he has one more fight left in him? Just saying.

The chapter is significant in its characterization of Hancock as utterly trustworthy and in control and in its depiction of Buford’s sense of accomplishment—in the end, he looks to the stars and tells John Reynolds that they’d held the high ground. It’s a poignant moment for an otherwise very unsentimental individual. It’s obvious why he wipes his eyes, but after that, it’s all business—he needs to get some new lieutenants because all of his are dead.

This chapter also characterizes Meade as painfully inadequate to handle the challenges of commanding an entire Army. There’s more of that to come in a Chamberlain chapter. History is actually kinder to Meade than Shaara is. Perhaps history knows, like Lee, that being brand new to a huge job is not as easy as it looks.

One thing about Reynolds’ death: Hancock asks Buford to write a note to Reynolds’ parents, presumably to tell them that he’d saved the day on July 1 and that Reynolds’ death had been instantaneous. Remember that Reynolds had become engaged, but his family didn’t know about it yet. Neither Hancock nor Buford makes mention of Reynolds’ fiancé, so there probably wasn’t a letter to her. She may have had to read about it in the papers—we don’t know. Anyone interested in doing some research on that, I’d be happy to hear about it.


July 2, 1863, Chap. 1, ‘Fremantle’

This chapter characterizes Fremantle as both ridiculous and disturbing, although he makes a very valid comparison of the social classes in England as finding their equivalent in the South. He is enormously proud to be a witness to what he is sure will be an incredibly honorable victory for the South. The last things Fremantle thinks about are the connection between England and the Confederacy and the hope that the South could rejoin the Motherland


someday, barring the unsavory issue of slavery (he refers to it as ‘embarrassing’, as if it were a social faux pas. Shaara is being ironic).

While Fremantle provides some comic relief, he has a point about the aristocracy in the South mimicking England’s. It’s also notable that his first instinct that Longstreet’s name might be English, but when told that he’s actually Dutch, he consoles himself with the comforting fact that Longstreet is not a Virginian. Virginia is the pinnacle of Southern courtly manners, and its social strata makes sense to Fremantle. Note the exclusive “breeding” in the South—both in horses and women! He is dismissive of the “rabble” or lower classes and believes the best people are those who, for the most part, share a religion, culture, language, and values. His dismissive, “They even allowed the occasional Jew…” (165) should have hit us a squarely in the face as the breeding of the women. So the ludicrous external—his silly appearance and speech patterns— conceals a darker philosophy reflective in some ways of many Southern landed gentry. No wonder he feels so at home! He also believes it’s good to be with the winners—right now, it isn’t silly for him to think that, but the situation will change far before he does. Later in England, he does in fact, does write a manuscript about the Southern victory. I’m not sure it was picked up for publication, though.

There is a reason Fremantle is here, both as a character and as a chapter focus. In the man lies the juxtaposition of the ridiculous and the disturbing. The upcoming Chamberlain chapter takes the least ridiculous of characters and finds something deeply disturbing within. At first, I’d assumed that these things would be changes in Chamberlain, but there’s a question about what has been there all along, latent, yet needed something like the horror of this particular war, concerning these particular issues, which bring out what has lain dormant in the man. One perhaps could make a case that war has simply peeled away some appealing layers to get at the mix of human nature in Chamberlain, as in all men. I think it’s interesting that the 2 parallels to Chamberlain in this chapter concern the two changes for the worse in Chamberlain’s character (the other connection is when Fremantle thinks that war is marvelous). Just saying.

July 2, 1863, Chap. 2, ‘Chamberlain’

We find in this chapter some of the most significant quotes so far—the juxtaposition of Southern society in the beginning of the chapter, the conflict Chamberlain encounters within himself when confronted with an escaped slave that he finds physically repulsive, and the nagging of the professor’s words to him from a pre-war conversation—“’My young friend, what if it is you who are wrong?’” Chamberlain has gone from the clouds of the Cause, idealism at its most inspirational, right down to the depths of a wounded black man, an escaped slave whose presence awakens something detestable within Chamberlain. The redeeming thing about


Chamberlain is that he doesn’t stay there. He finds a connection, he is capable of empathy, he treats the man respectfully, and he seems to do so without any of the other men knowing how unpleasant his gut reaction was. It is interesting that he literally makes no decision about what to do with the man, though. Find where Kilrain asks him what to do—it’s the one time Chamberlain abdicates his responsibility as regimental colonel. Maybe he can’t face the painful irony that in order to free the man, he must first abandon him.

Also note: When Kilrain indicates to Chamberlain that the escaped slave has been following them, Chamberlain looks over to where Kilrain has gestured but doesn’t see. Is it easier not to see something that brings you to a personal crisis of conscience? Obviously, connect it to the vision motif, but also think about Longstreet. It’s a parallel crisis—Longstreet sees what he absolutely does not want to see in the doomed nature of this battle, Lee’s determination to attack when he barely has enough men to defend a position, and Longstreet’s clear understanding of his own personal limitations in being able to communicate what he sees. The antithesis comes in Chamberlain’s and Longstreet’s reaction to the crisis: At no time does Longstreet refuse to see. It is his “curse,” remember. Chamberlain, however, lives in his head, where we would expect a professor of rhetoric to live, sees primarily the abstract in the purpose for the war, and is thus shocked and horrified when confronted with his own limitations, his own latent prejudice that rises despite the lofty rhetoric that echoes in his mind, even despite his being an educated man. At the end of the scene, Chamberlain doesn’t see his need to do anything about this poor man, but make no mistake—a flawed Chamberlain can still be a heroic Chamberlain.

Note the conversation Chamberlain has with Kilrain about the ‘divine spark’ in all of man. Think about it and look it up if you have to. It’s what Chamberlain can’t reconcile in his own aversion to the escaped slave—he had always believed that men had a ‘divine spark’ regardless of race, creed, whatever, while Kilrain denies the presence of any such thing, saying men have to be taken on the basis of their own merits and their own actions. He says there are many men around who have no more intrinsic value than a dead dog, and his own personal cause is that he will be judged based on his own merits. There is one aristocracy, that of the intellect. He identifies Chamberlain as being part of it (of course—he’s a college professor who knows seven languages), but he also recognizes Chamberlain as an idealist, and he seems glad about it. (It’s funny to praise idealism when the very ideal from which it springs Kilrain sees as fatally flawed, but there it is. The father figure in Kilrain can’t help it.) Also note that Chamberlain intellectualizes everything, so when he feels this sort of punch in the gut over an inner repugnance toward a man who is completely helpless, doesn’t know the language, and had a northern civilian actually shoot him right near a battlefield (oh the painful irony!), Chamberlain


is shocked. There is very little that moves him in a visceral way; this did and it was unexpected, so Chamberlain has to put the whole experience back through his intellectual processor to come up with the right thing to do. Evaluate Kilrain’s remark, “Any man who judges by the group is a peawit.” (176) Also—what do you think about the fact that equality is a myth in Kilrain’s mind, but “What matters is justice.” (178) I wonder where we get the concept of justice w/out some sort of equalizer.

Theme connections:

In the escaped slave scenario, war can dehumanize humanity when Chamberlain has to abandon the man to go fight for his freedom, but war has a very human face when we see the man as a stranger, alone, wounded, terrified, not speaking the language. This is what the war is about in the eyes of Chamberlain and Kilrain, and it puts a very human face on the Cause spoken of so well in Chamberlain’s initial speech.

War is a builder of men —building Chamberlain individually as it gives him the responsibility to lead, and building the bond between Chamberlain and Kilrain—that camaraderie of war that has no peacetime equivalent. War is also a divider of men, as it divides Chamberlain from his peer, the professor, whose honest explanation and earnest endeavor to help Chamberlain see how his view is right and Chamberlain’s is wrong actually ignites in Chamberlain a desire to kill not only him, but all of them.

There’s a parallel w/ the men trying to figure out what the escaped slave was saying, and Tom Chamberlain trying to figure out what the “rats” were that the Reb prisoners were talking about. Interesting that there’s a gap in communication between 2 parts of the country even as there’s a gap in communication between the continents—North America and Africa. I wonder how stereotypical it was for the Reb prisoners not to know what rights it was that the North was offending. The fact is, most people in the South, and therefore most Southern soldiers, didn’t have slaves, but they also didn’t want people in the North telling them they couldn’t.

Think about ‘divine spark’ in reference to killer angels. Hmmm.

July 2, 1863, Chapter 3, ‘Longstreet’

Note Longstreet’s alarm when he sees Lee looking strange, almost feverish, early in the chapter and again when Lee mentions that he has been ill and doesn’t want any indisposition to affect his judgment. Lee wants his generals to agree, but he would wait in vain for that from Longstreet. All Longstreet can manage is a “Yes sir,” which may be a sign of deference but in this case, not of agreement.


There is marvelous, beautiful characterization of how Lee’s relationship stands with his generals when he addresses Heth, who had been wounded the day before but who wants to prove that he can still do whatever the Commanding General wants. “There was that tone in his voice, that marvelous warmth, that made them all look not at Heth but at Lee, the graybeard, the dark-eyed, the old man, the fighter.” (187) Do not underestimate the impact of Lee’s inspiration on individuals, be they generals or common soldiers, as well as on the army as a whole.

Motif: Count all of the references to vision: eyes, gaze, look, see, blink, everything. There are TONS of references to vision which Shaara uses to develop motif. Remember Longstreet’s curse. He sees what’s happening as his men report what they’re encountering—they want him to countermand Lee’s orders—issue other orders based on the unfolding situation. This is not without precedent—Longstreet apparently has done this before because he thinks that he can’t go against Lee again. The problem develops because Lee has directly told Longstreet NOT to send troops around to the right, but instead to concentrate the attack and give it all they’ve got en echelon.

A parallel problem is that of Longstreet not disappointing his father figure. The relationship seems to be changing—when Longstreet shook Lee’s hand, he noticed that the grip wasn’t as firm nor the hand as large, which conjures images of a young child holding his hand up to his dad’s hand. As kids grow up and their influences expand, their parents claim a smaller and smaller percentage of that influence; indeed, as kids get older they come to realize that their parents don’t know everything, can’t fix everything, and seem ‘smaller’ to them (remember Will thinking both things about Mr. Halloway at different points in Something Wicked?) Lee gets some things wrong here, and they’re big things, and Longstreet sees it coming and can’t stop it. He doesn’t want to jeopardize either the relationship w/ the Old Man or his boys’ lives, so the internal conflict is intense.

Hood is characterized as a soft-spoken man, an expert strategist, and someone worth listening to, but Lee doesn’t listen to him. Hood sees what Longstreet sees, maybe like siblings who don’t know what to do with a parent who is in some way out of sync w/ the world. In this case, though, it’s their job to obey orders—that’s what a good soldier does. That necessity of being a good soldier also figures into Longstreet’s decision to order the attack the way Lee planned it. Even though Longstreet knows that Hood is right, there’s a chain of command that needs to be followed.

Remember how Longstreet mentally assesses Hood’s importance as he shakes Hood’s hand and tells him to take care of himself: “Best soldier in the army. If it can be done, he will do it. He and Pickett. My two. Oh God, there’s not enough of them. We have to spend them like gold, in single pieces. Once they’re gone, there will be no more.” (188)


There’s a HUGE message in Lee’s and Longstreet’s discussion concerning the internal conflict that likely troubles all thinking career generals in the Confederacy: “They’re never quite the enemy, those boys in blue” as well as “…we broke the vow.” (191) Lee had thought and spoken about this internal conflict in a previous chapter, but today he dismisses it with the notion that there was a higher duty to Virginia, which is the seat of the Confederacy, but also Lee’s home state, not Longstreet’s! Lee resorts to his bedrock faith and puts the issue squarely in God’s hands; notice how Longstreet never ever contradicts him despite the deep crisis of faith he’s been having since his children died.

Lee follows it up with the cautionary lecture to Longstreet about the “great trap” of being a soldier and an officer. This is HUGELY important, not just because it’s true, but because Lee may have misread Longstreet’s caution and Longstreet can’t explain, can’t help him see the strategy of his viewpoint. Longstreet believes that Lee has misread him, at any rate. Either Lee is wrong and is misreading the character of his right-hand man, closer to him than any other officer in the army, OR Longstreet, the realist, is in denial of the reality within himself. Nevertheless, even if there is some truth there for Longstreet (since his kids have died, he’s made the army a substitute family), the thing that’s going to happen has less to do w/ how Longstreet feels and much more to do w/ what he sees. (What does it say about Lee’s character that he attends to what his generals feel as well as seeking judgment calls from them concerning what they see?) DO NOT FORGET LONGSTREET’S ACKNOWLEDGED FEAR: “The only fear was not of death, was not of the war, was of blind stupid human frailty, of blind proud foolishness that could lose it all.” (198)

Also: “Hood stared at him with the black round eyes. Longstreet felt an overwhelming wave of sadness. They’re all going in to die. But he could say nothing.” (201)

Remember that whatever the Confederates don’t know about the strength and movement of the Union Army is because of Stuart, but ultimately, the fault lies with Lee because Lee chose to wait for his ‘perfect’ boy to return and justify Lee’s faith in him rather than sending others out—other available cavalry -- to do the urgent job at hand. This confidence in Stuart is misguided, but who knew? Lee, the idealist, couldn’t conceive of his perfect cavalry commander letting him down, so now it’s the second day of the battle, they have limited intelligence about what they’re facing in the Union army (and none at all about the roads that lead to the Union’s position), and Stuart still hasn’t been corralled and brought back. He’s coming though—oh yes, he’ll get there. Lee’s hesitance to sort of hedge his bets, cover all bases, and protect his army exacts a steep price from everyone. There’s plenty of anger for Stuart, and rightly so, but we can’t forget that Lee waited until the end of the first day’s battle to go looking for him.

Note the difference in opinion about the Virginia boys (the ‘gentlemen’) versus the Deep South—those Mississippi boys! Led by Barksdale with his long white hair and his savage cry, the


fierceness of the Mississippi boys does Longstreet’s heart good. He has to hold them back—the en echelon is a staggered attack explained toward the end of the chapter—and the longer he holds them back, the more ready they are to fight.

As much of the vision motif as there is, there is quite a lot of heat motif building. Think July, yes, but also note references to heat in people’s eyes is more related to the heat of battle. After all, one fires a gun. Lee’s eyes reflect heat, as do Hood’s, and there are a bunch of other references to fever and whatnot right before the big battle of the second day.

Does everyone know who is going to be up on the Rocky Hill (Little Round Top to the Union) when Longstreet’s corps attacks? I’ll give you a hint—his is the next chapter, so when reading Chap. 4 ‘Chamberlain,’ remember whose boys are coming up that hill to attack.

July 2, 1863, Chap. 4, ‘Chamberlain’

Note how Chamberlain thinks, how his stream-of-consciousness thought plays out. He has a vacancy to his left since he is the extreme left flank of the entire Army of the Potomac. When there’s a vacancy in the line where 2 boys get hit at the same time, he plugs the hole with his brother whom he describes as terribly vulnerable. He will carry the internal conflict (the Colonel ordering his brother to step into harm’s way) for the duration of the battle. (Could there be a Longstreet parallel here, now that Longstreet thinks of the Army when he turns away from the thoughts of his dead children? It’s unclear—Longstreet doesn’t think so—but it might be possible.) There’s no one to plug the giant vacancy to his left, which is why he sent Morrell’s B Company off a way into the woods in case the far right of the Confederate army tries to sneak around behind them. If the Confederates breach the line or are able to flank the Union, it’ll be all over for this battle, and for all practical purposes, the war. Certainly Longstreet knows this, and his divisions will bring great pressure to bear on this end of the line. Notice how the attack doesn’t come all at once, which Chamberlain would have preferred. It comes in waves, which could be a partial effect of the en echelon strategy or it could be something else. The last resort, his famous bayonet charge, is something that wouldn’t have occurred to most career officers, but to Chamberlain, it seems the only alternative to withdrawing, which is not an option. For whatever reason, it works, and we have arguably seen the third Union hero of the engagement here (Buford and Reynolds would be the first 2).

Vision motif mostly consists of smoke and darkness here. Note the father figure image when Kilrain tells Chamberlain that it has been an honor and that he’d never served under a better man—quite profound, although when Chamberlain goes in search of a little whiskey to help Kilrain deal with his injury, he only thinks briefly about him after Spear offers Chamberlain a toast to the victory. He thinks that he mustn’t insult Spear, but that is that really why he drinks


it himself? Could reality have intruded into Chamberlain’s world view, or it could be that Chamberlain underestimates the degree of Kilrain’s danger? Note his first reaction to Kilrain’s injury—surely not serious—and later he thinks of Buster as ‘unhurtable’—sounds kind of like an idealist, yes? Both Chamberlain and Longstreet struggle w/ their respective father figures: as mortal (Kilrain) as flawed (Lee).

Lots of blood and guts that Chamberlain experiences only vaguely. He is not disgusted by it, nor deterred. It’s an unpleasant reality, and idealists tend not to dwell on unpleasant realities. Watch—have you seen any references to the Cause in this chapter or is Chamberlain entirely occupied with killing so he isn’t killed? Where have his ideals gone?? Read the last paragraph in the chapter. He put his brother deliberately in harm’s way, his father figure, Kilrain, is gravely injured, and Chamberlain feels “as good as a man can feel” (236).

July 2, Chap. 5, ‘Longstreet’

Longstreet's dual nature (Shaara uses juxtaposition within a character!) is one of intense emotion versus one of cold calculation, causing internal conflict {“he was learning war.” (239)} He knows the attack will fail the way Lee has ordered it (cold calculation), but there's nothing he can do about it and when it does fail, he feels the intense emotion of rage toward Lee—although he can’t allow that because Lee, the father figure, is all he has in place of God. When he sees Lee, his love for the Old Man sweeps aside everything else. He understands why Hood's men seek to blame him instead of Lee for the failure. There’s a lovely example of loyalty toward Longstreet in Goree’s account of the fistfight he had—he explains that he had to hit one of the men in Hood’s division because he was blaming Longstreet. Interestingly, Goree is protective of Longstreet, but Longstreet is not defensive when it comes to his reputation or blame, even when he clearly isn’t at fault. Longstreet’s response to T. J.—“Is he dead?” is typical of the practical general who doesn’t have time to get swept up into emotionally charged defensiveness. So in battle, he is protective of his boys, but in the dynamics of the larger army, he chooses to operate personally without defense. He even thinks that it isn’t Lee’s fault when he mulls over how untouchable Lee has become. No one can bring himself to question the Old Man—it’s unclear exactly what he means when Longstreet thinks that it isn’t Lee’s fault. I think he means that Lee can’t help it if his men idolize him and therefore refuse to blame him for things that go wrong. It’s a nicely subtle example of internal conflict for Longstreet.

Vision is everywhere in this chapter, in ways that it hasn’t appeared in other chapters—Hood staring with sightless eyes, Lee’s eyes fixed on a point beyond Longstreet, at some vision of what ideally he believed would happen and now believes almost happened. Longstreet feels like a traitor for telling Lee the truth (loyalty) but recognizes that he needs the truth now more


than ever. Interestingly, when Longstreet lies to Hood at the beginning of the chapter about the success of the attack and the number of casualties, he’s exhibiting loyalty, also—to a friend whom he wants to recover. (What will Hood fight like, I wonder, without the use of his arm? Hmmm. Look it up.) Lee’s vision is in his head—it’s a dream. Longstreet’s is a living nightmare based on flesh and blood and cold hard facts, which are difficult to come by because of the loyalty other men feel toward their commanders (Heth’s men understate the damage so Heth won’t get in trouble). Loyalty sometimes looks like dishonesty. Is it? Which is more important in war? Why? Longstreet always associates blindness with stupidity. Did you notice a parallel in Longstreet’s reaction to Lee’s assertion that “They (the Union line) almost broke” and that Lee “could see…an open road to Washington.” Longstreet is crazily confused by an account so starkly different from his experience of reality. It reminds us a little of Chamberlain’s feelings about the minister and the professor from the South before the war—how if they were right, the whole world was wrong. It’s a feeling of an enormous “disconnect” between 2 people’s realities.

Speaking of realities, here’s Jeb Stuart, in the flesh, surrounded by a circle of admiring civilians who had come up to see how things are going (assuming, of course, that they’ll witness victory.) Longstreet really doesn’t want to interact with him at all. Lee’s response is a carefully measured reprimand about how worried everyone was about him—something a father would say. Stuart takes it warily, as if he senses he’s displeased his superior but isn’t quite sure because he’s honestly never felt this sensation before in his career. He’s wary. Longstreet flat out tells the reporter who asks him that he, Longstreet, believes that court martial papers should be signed against Stuart. Wait and see how Lee handles it face to face with Stuart, in the last chapter.

Armistead, good guy that he is, is worried about Garnett and suggests that maybe Longstreet could order Garnett not to fight. Note the crucial discussion between Longstreet and Armistead setting up the most painfully human chapter in the novel, Armistead's chapter: "'Win, so help me, if I ever lift a hand against you, may God strike me dead.'" This, along with the haunting lyrics of Kathleen Mavourneen, sets up Armistead's awful internal conflict: he meant it as a vow to someone he loved like a brother, and now he must break his vow to his brother. Loyalty again, of a most painful kind. Either way he decides, he’ll be a traitor—just like Longstreet, just like Lee, only his seems more personal.

Finally, look at how Longstreet is characterized when Armistead is trying to get him to join the circle around the fireside—he’s struggling with his mantle of leadership, not wanting to dampen the men’s spirits by having their corps commander right there, but longing to be a part of something. He lays down his burden and yields to Armistead’s persuasion, deciding to forget all of the weight he’s been bearing and simply be a guy around a fire. Do we blame him for this?


He knows his limits—he gives himself a break when he needs one, and ironically, just when he is most human and perhaps even at his weakest, Armistead refers to him as ‘the Old Man’—the son figure reminding his men of the father figure somehow.

July 2, 1863, Chapter 6, ‘Lee’:

Note how tired Lee is. It’s very important to note WHY Lee IS and is NOT fighting the war, whom he is fighting for, and how he must defend them even though he acknowledges them to be wrong. It underlines the characterization of one who is sure of his purposes and loyalties while not being simplistically arrogant. I found myself being persuaded by what seems like Lee’s gentle, aged wisdom in explaining why he chooses to do what he does. It’s really, really, really important to note how the reward for an honorable fight trumps even victory. The reward is secured regardless of who wins—that’s all in God’s hands anyway. And it’s interesting to see how Lee refers to not having had a true choice in the matter of his ‘treasonous’ action against the United States. No doubt, this certainty brings him peace of mind when he otherwise would need to struggle with an uneasy conscience. Lee’s conscience, while somewhat weighed down by the burdens of his authority, never engages him in lengthy moral struggles. Remember when he reminded himself on July 1 that he had sworn to defend the land he is attacking, he turned away from the idea. We should notice that whenever his heart feels odd or he has trouble catching his breath, he’s reminded that he has a limited time on earth to earn the reward he seeks in heaven.

Father-son relationship couldn’t be any more explicit than in Lee’s dealings with Stuart. Stuart is characterized like a favored but confused child who had meant to do something good when he broke curfew or something. He is chastised by Lee more sharply than anyone else in the novel, but note how, even as Lee is reproaching him, he wants to relent. Lee’s wisdom in valuing his officers’ good qualities and not wanting to diminish them in any way is so clear here: his idealism at work. Longstreet and others want retribution, but Lee wants Stuart to become a better soldier—doesn’t want to crush his spirit because he knows that it’s that fiery spirit that makes him so good at what he does. Lee is idealistic, but also practical, because he’s fired Stuart up to prove himself. Notice the dramatic way in which Stuart tries to hand in his sword, thus resigning his position since he presumably no longer has the General’s trust. THAT’S what makes Lee so mad—there is NO TIME (so there is at least a bit of realism in Lee after all!) In fact, there is a lot of realism in any successful general, but Lee’s priorities are above that which most men see—his priorities are not grounded in this world, and some would say are not grounded in reality, but FAITH makes them real, at the very least, to Lee. He is a tired old man in this chapter, and we are supposed to sympathize with him even if we disagree.


Fences have been mentioned a great deal here and will continue to be. I’m not sure that it’s strong enough to be a motif, but when someone is ‘on the fence’ it means he or she can’t decide which side to be on in some situation. Look for Longstreet’s fence on July 3.


July 3, 1863, Chapter 1, ‘Chamberlain’

“It will be hard to go home again after this.” (276)

After so much suffering, so much fear, so much blood and dying, this is Chamberlain’s primary thought. He characterizes the previous day as a “dream”, notice, not a nightmare. The difference can’t be victory, because it was after a horrible defeat at Fredericksburg that he realized how much he loves the army. And it isn’t just the army—it’s the army’s purpose—WAR. The connection he’s made to the men, that camaraderie which Lee referrs to early on, is understandably precious to someone who has been such a solitary man all his life, isolated in the ivory tower of academia. But here he seems to mean that he will miss the actual fighting. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline talking, but it seems he’s lost all sight of his Cause—can’t even bring himself to the point where he can think about the ideals of the war when Tom brings up his opinion that the Union is going to win. Chamberlain isn’t too tired to fight again if necessary, but he’s too tired to think about the reason for fighting.

Just a note: the professional soldiers on the other side are really ready for the bloodshed to stop. They don’t get the same rush from battle that Chamberlain gets, even though there was presumably something about battle that drew them to their profession in the first place. They just want the fighting to be over. It’s the rookie, Chamberlain, who is going to have a hard time going back to ordinary, peaceful living. Draw your own conclusions, but you absolutely have to consider if and how war changes people!

The most significant conversation Chamberlain has is with Tom re. bayonets. The younger man initiates it, almost like a confession, telling him he just couldn’t bring himself to stab anyone in the charge. There’s something different about that. Remember Longstreet’s idea—the new war of machines? Machines take people AWAY from each other in a fight, but bayonets bring them up close and personal. Isn’t it interesting that the one who doesn’t like bayonets and couldn’t use his confesses his weakness to the one who absolutely glories in the fighting and who ordered the charge in the first place. Is it just because Tom is his little brother that he tells him he doesn’t have to be ashamed of not wanting to use such a brutal weapon, or does he really believe it?


Chamberlain is having a lot of problems at this point—pain in a wounded foot, hunger, the inability to feed his men whom he believes saved the whole Union line the day before, sick people who are afraid to report to the field hospital, the absence of Kilrain although not precisely anxiety about his condition, the knowledge of how few of the men there are remaining in the 20th Maine. Even so, he is glorying in what he had been able to do during the previous day’s battle. He LOVED it and, as his little brother notices he hadn’t been afraid at all. He was too busy digging the whole battle thing. The way he rises to each challenge indicates a path to generalship, which he will achieve before the end of the war.

July 3, 1863, Chapter 2, ‘Longstreet’:

Lee v. Longstreet here. Guess who’s right…and guess who wins. So much vision: Lee’s eyes, staring at something that isn’t there, staring beyond Longstreet, who perhaps represents reality. Lee is staring at something he sees in his mind, and he’s building his final hope for a decisive win on that idealistic vision—as this battle goes, so shall go the war is pretty much what Longstreet thinks. One result of the Lee versus Longstreet conflict is a HUGE Longstreet vs. Longstreet conflict. At one point he thinks, “I do not want to hurt this man”—incredible—but he is responsible for all of the men under his command, his boys. It would be different if it could be won.

One of the clearest examples of hubris comes at the bottom of 286 and the top of 288. Longstreet goes slowly through every reason imaginable that this attack cannot work. He lists 7 incontrovertible facts and probable scenarios, to which Lee responds, “They will break.” Lee says this twice before saying that there isn’t another alternative. Longstreet says the Confederates have fewer men, have a mile of open ground to cover while under cannon fire and then enfilade fire, that the enemy have dug in all night and have been heavily reinforced, that if the Confederate forces need reinforcements, they’ll have to come from miles off because the front is five miles long—it will be difficult even to coordinate such an attack; but this is the General’s will, so the General’s will shall be done. When Lee says there are no alternatives, remember that Longstreet’s idea of redeploying is simply out of the question for Lee. There are no alternatives, then, short of leaving the field in the command of the enemy and thus forfeiting their honor. All Longstreet can see is how many men will die in a LOSING CAUSE. It’s the last part that kills him, so to speak. He fully expects his men to die, but his cause is victory. With this “old Napoleon” style assault (remember when Longstreet was talking to Fremantle and said that their army’s strategy could be summed up in “old Napoleon and a hell of a lot of chivalry”?), Lee will have the honor he seeks for the men who will die, and that is Lee’s bottom line.


Notice the times in the chapter when Lee is silent. The men rally around him, and the soldiers’ morale is seemingly impervious to the facts of the day. They want to cheer for Lee as soon as they see him and aides have to go ahead to keep them quiet so as not to draw enemy fire. Lee is such a rock star, and that quality has been such a key to their success that the men forget basic battlefield protocol when they see him.

When Longstreet brings up the fact that it’s Hancock who will be waiting on the hill for Pickett’s division to attack, Lee’s response is a simple acknowledgment of the presence of the Second Corps. Then, when Longstreet spells it out—how hard this will be on Armistead, Lee talks right over it as if it had no importance whatsoever. Longstreet even tries to pass the attack off on Hill since 2 of the 3 divisions will be from Hill’s corps. Lee’s, “General, I need you” puts a stop to that. Longstreet pushes Lee to the point of being silenced by him, unprecedented in their relationship, but Longstreet’s conscience is not at peace and won’t let Lee alone until he’s said what he needs to say regardless of its effect on their relationship. Lee says, “General, we all do our duty. We do what he have to do.” Longstreet realizes that Lee believes his army can do anything (hubris much?). When Longstreet half apologizes for his slowness, Lee responds that there’s no one whom he trusts more than Longstreet. Even that doesn’t bring Longstreet on board, but he gives Lee, the father figure, the best he can summon with any truth—“If it can be done, those boys will do it.” It’s weak, but it’s all he has.

One humorous note: Pettigrew’s offering Longstreet a copy of the book he wrote, ready to send an aide off to get it, to which Longstreet replies that he probably won’t be able to find the time that day. Pettigrew (the intellectual parallel to Chamberlain) tells him it’s an honor to serve under him, and Trimble is so moved by his promotion to division commander that he’s actually crying. No pressure or anything, but Longstreet puts the fate of their country (remember, it’s the Confederate States of America) in their hands.

I hope you saw the HUGE crisis of faith at the bottom of p. 299 when Lee says his trademark, “It is all in the hands of God” and Longstreet very pointedly thinks, “It isn’t God that is sending those men up that hill.” Pickett’s question—how much time do they have—is a really bad question which Longstreet sort of internally shakes his head at—can you think of multiple ways to take that question? At the very end of the chapter is the most conflicted we have seen Longstreet since he remembers the crisis of faith in the church after his children died. The bottom line is that he cannot leave the old man to face the consequences of his decision all alone, he cannot even quit. This scene is a very clear parallel to something Buford thinks in the second Buford chapter, just as Longstreet’s vision of what will happen to his men later that day parallels Buford’s terribly clear vision of the situation the Union would be in should they lose the high ground.


There’s a weird change of perspective at the end, another notable example of cluelessness in Fremantle, thinking about how amazing it is that Longstreet is going to sleep when what he’s really doing is closing his eyes to the inevitable destruction of his army in a losing cause. This change, just like the switch to Buford’s pickets in the June 29 section, indicates that the point of view can’t be a third person limited. Each chapter feels like third person limited, but there are small things thrown in that are clues. When Longstreet talks to Lee in the beginning of this chapter, it says “Lee’s head shifted slightly, imperceptibly.” (286) If it was imperceptible, Longstreet certainly could not perceive it; therefore, the narrator must be omniscient.

July 3, 1863, Chapter 3, ‘Chamberlain:

Please notice Meade’s only specific example of leadership in the novel: he draws up orders to WITHDRAW the entire army, and then holds a meeting with corps commanders to have them vote on it (!) It seems he either is completely unaware of the strong position his army holds OR he’s so protective of reputation and so scared of Robert E. Lee’s generalship that he wants to get out while the getting’s good. The fact that he makes everyone officially sign re. their desire to stay and finish the battle is indicative of how protective he is of his reputation. The thing that I find funny is that word of this private meeting of corps commanders gets out pretty quickly, and one commander promptly falls asleep at the meeting, which seems to the messenger informing Chamberlain of the situation the only sensible thing to do. Either way, it’s an extraordinary caution that ALMOST proves Lee’s wishful thinking (from a July 2, 1863 Longstreet chapter) right! While no commander in his right mind would trade high ground for low ground in a battle (Sickles), likewise no veteran commander would order his army OFF the high ground in the face of a battered enemy in home territory, which is what Meade wants to do. In both cases, these are civilians who have acquired rather than earned their command posts. This example of inept Union leadership seems to make Chamberlain’s strength in the face of nearly insurmountable odds on Little Round Top the previous day that much more remarkable.

In this chapter, it says that the new commander of the 1st Corps is Newton—I don’t know who he is or what that means for Doubleday.

Sykes is Chamberlain’s corps commander, and this chapter contains the longest indictment of the Union command’s disconnect from the troops. All around the “brass” there are tons of wagons—food and supplies—and the generals are eating heartily, but the troops can’t seem to get rations.

Notice that Chamberlain is too proud to ask a general for food, but he’ll ask his aide, a lieutenant. Give Chamberlain credit—after eating one piece of chicken he forces himself to save


the rest for his men. Notice, too, that the sight of Chamberlain’s own corps commander doesn’t impress him too much, but whenever he sees HANCOCK, he straightens up and takes notice.

Hancock is also the Union general who believes that, not only will the Rebs mount an assault, but they’re bound to hit the center of the line, right in front of the place Chamberlain’s regiment has been placed. Notice several references to the clump of trees—Chamberlain notices them—the last time they were mentioned was when Lee pointed them out as the absolute focus of that day’s assault.

The last we see of Hancock is during the mass artillery assault, the greatest concentration of artillery ever fired, according to the Longstreet chapter (300) and like nothing else Chamberlain has ever experienced. Hancock is chatting away on horseback, for crying out loud, right there on the ridge. What do you make of that? Think he’ll come through okay?? Is it presumptuous arrogance on Hancock’s part, he of the clean white shirt and commanding presence, or is he doing his job the best way he knows how, being clearly visible to his men and finding out as much as possible about their situation?

There is so much imagery in the last several pages of Chapter 3 that it’s impossible to go through it all. Just note that early in the chapter, Chamberlain doesn’t want to go to sleep—reminds me of a kid who is afraid he’ll miss something—and after the barrage has begun, he wishes Kilrain were there to experience it “wouldn’t miss it for the world”—unclear if he means himself or Kilrain. Of course, Kilrain has died and Chamberlain experiences this mini crisis of faith parallel to Longstreet’s—a moment of intense, not just disbelief but unbelief—a moment of an awareness of a “nothing” so consuming that he can’t counter it. Is it the influence of the atheistic Kilrain’s philosophy, or is it something that happens when men suffer unbearable loss?

At any rate, Chamberlain goes to sleep at the end (at the end of the previous Longstreet chapter, Fremantle thinks Longstreet is asleep…but he’s far, far from it). Longstreet’s troubles are about to reach their ultimate culmination on the other side of the line, but Chamberlain is an ordinary human after all, and sleeps.

Notable quotes:

“Chamberlain thought: their (Hancock’s) casualties much worse than mine. In a fight, it always seems that your fight is the hardest. Must remember that.” (301, 302)

“Hope my next war is in Maine.” (304) – Let’s hope he’s being ironic here, thinking this. “Must think on the theology of that: plugging a hole in the line with a brother. Except

for that, it would all have been fine. An almost perfect fight, but the memory of that is a jar, is wrong. Some things a man cannot be asked to do. Killing of brothers. This whole war is concerned with the killing of brothers.” (307), italics mine.


July 3, 1863, Chapter 4, ‘Armistead’:

Perhaps the heaviest chapter of any war book I’ve ever read, it begins with a countdown—literally a piecing together of time prior to the charge that will destroy so much. These pages allow us into the head of one of the most conflicted generals in the battle. There is a war within at every step: he’s proud of his boys, his army, and at the same time, he’s proud of the enemy, his best friend. He says goodbye to Garnett, wanting him to get down from his horse, knowing that he would die. There’s too much emotion and gruesomeness to summarize. I need to let the novel reveal its own greatness.

Notable quotes:

1. “Armistead looked at his watch: 1:97.” (312) “He looked at his watch: 1:35.” (313) “He looked at his watch: 1:47.” (314)“2:10.” (315)

2. “Longstreet sat on a rail fence, motionless, crouched forward.” (312)3. “He was closer to the guns now and the sound of the cannonade was enormous, like the

beating of great wings.” (313)4. “it may be for years, it may be forever.” (313, 314) 5. “…he plucked the small ring from his little finger. Pickett looked up; his eyes glazed with

concentration, focused, blinked.‘Here, George, send her this. My compliments.” (313)

6. Pickett’s characterization: “He was one of those, like Stuart, who looked on war as God’s greatest game.” (314)

7. “He saw Longstreet sitting alone in the same place, on the same rail, drew comfort from the solid presence.” (314)

8. “He closed his eyes for a moment and he could see her again, Mary, it may be for years, it may be forever,” and Hancock’s face in tears, may God strike me dead. He opened his eyes, looked a question at Heaven…And he had said it and meant it: ‘If I lift a hand against you, friend, may God strike me dead.’ Well, it is all in His hands.”

9. “He sat patiently, his back to a tree. The attack would begin soon enough. When he thought of that his mind closed down like a blank gray wall, not letting him see.” (315)

10. “Point of pride: My old friend is the best soldier they have. My old friend is up on the ridge.” (315)


11. “Garnett had the eyes of a man who had just awakened.” (316)

12. “Armistead said, ‘How’s the leg?’‘Oh, all right, thank you. Bit hard to walk. Guess I’ll have to ride.’‘Pickett’s orders, nobody rides.’Garnett smiled.‘Dick,’ Armistead said, ‘you’re not going to ride.’Garnett turned, looked away.‘You can’t do that,’ Armistead insisted, the cold alarm growing. ‘You’ll stand out like… you’ll be the perfect target.’‘Well,’ Garnett said, grinning faintly, ‘well, I tell you, Lo. I can’t walk.’And cannot stay behind. Honor at stake. He could not let the attack go without him; he had to prove once and for all his honor, because there was Jackson’s charge, never answered, still in the air wherever Garnett moved…for Jackson was gone and Jackson was a great soldier . . .” (316)

13. “Their eyes never quite met, like two lights moving, never quite touching.” (317)

14. “’A man on a horse, in front of that line, George, he’ll be the only rider in a line a mile wide. They’ll have every gun on that hill on him.’” (318)

15. “He saw Longstreet sitting on a rail fence, gazing out into the glittering fields toward the enemy line. Pickett rode toward him and Longstreet did not seem to hear. His face was dark and still; he looked wordlessly at Pickett, then at Armistead, then turned back to the light.” (319)

16. “’…What do you say, sir? Do we go in now?’And Longstreet said nothing, staring at him, staring, and Armistead felt an eerie turning,

like a sickness, watching Longstreet’s face, and then he saw that Longstreet was crying. He moved closer. The General was crying. Something he never saw or ever expected to see, and the tears came to Armistead’s eyes as he watched, saw Pickett beginning to lift his hands, holding out a note, asking again, and then Longstreet took a deep breath, his shoulders lifted, and then he nodded, dropping his head, taking his eyes away from Pickett’s face, and in the same motion turned away, and Pickett let out a whoop and clenched a fist and shook it.” (319)

17. “Win, I’m sorry. Remember the old vow: May God strike me dead. And so the words came. I wish I could call them back. But Win understands. I have to come now. All in God’s hands. Father, into your hands . . . ” (320)

18. “Armistead said, ‘Dick, for God’s sake and mine, get down off the horse.’Garnett said, ‘I’ll see you at the top, Lo.’”Armistead said, ‘My old friend.’” (321)


19. “Armistead heard once more that sweet female voice, unbearable beauty of the unbearable past: it may be for years, it may be forever. Then why art thou silent . . .’ (321)

20. “’All right now, boys, for your wives, your sweethearts, for Virginia! At route step, forward, ho!’ He drew his sword, pointed it toward the ridge.”

21. “’Close it up, close it up’” (323)

22. “Armistead turned, called his aides, took off the old black felt and put it on the tip of his sword and raised it high in the air. He called for double-time, double-time” (325)

23. “Up there the wall was a terrible thing … ” (326)

24. “One of Pettigrew’s brigades had broken on the far left. Armistead raised his sword, saw that the sword had gone through the hat and the hat was now down near his hand. He put the hat up again, the sword point on a new place, started screaming, follow me, follow me, and began the long last walk toward the ridge. No need for hurry now, too tired to run, expecting to be hit at any moment.” (326)

25. “Armistead came up to the stone wall, and the blue boys were falling back. He felt a moment of incredible joy.” (328)

26. “… and Armistead leaped to the top of the wall, balanced high on the stones, seeing the blue troops running up the slope into the guns, and then he came down on the other side, had done it, had gotten inside the wall, and men moved in around him, screaming. And then he was hit, finally, in the side, doubling him.” (328)

27. “He had made it all this way; this way was enough. He put an arm on the cannon to steady himself. But now there was a rush from the right. Blue troops were closing in. Armistead’s vision blurred; the world turned soft and still…An officer was riding toward him; there was a violent blow. He saw the sky, swirling round and round, thank God no pain. A sense of vast release, of great peace. I came all the way up, I came over the wall . . .” (328)

28. “…but now he could feel the end coming, now for the first time he sensed the sliding toward the dark, a weakening, a closing, all things ending now slowly and steadily and peacefully. He closed his eyes, opened them. a voice said, ‘I was riding toward you, sir, trying to knock you down. You didn’t have a chance.’

He looked up: a Union officer. I am not captured, I am dying. He tried to see: help me, help me. He was lifted slightly.” (328)

29. “The officer was speaking. Armistead said, ‘Is General Hancock . . . would like to see General Hancock.’

A man said, ‘I’m sorry, sir. General Hancock has been hit.’


‘No,’ Armistead said. He closed his eyes. Not both of us. Not all of us. Sent to Mira Hancock, to be opened in the event of my death. But not both of us, please, dear God . . . “ (329)

30. “’Will you tell General Hancock, please, that General Armistead sends his regrets. Will you tell him . . . how very sorry I am . . .’

The energy failed. He felt himself flicker. But it was a long slow falling, very quiet, very peaceful, rather still, but always the motion, the darkness closing in, and so he fell out of the light and away, far away, and was gone.”

The Union officer was trying to knock Armistead out of the way—he put himself in harm’s way to knock Armistead down so he wouldn’t get shot. There is often a code among enemy officers, a strange bond that leads them to spare each other. In this case, the Union officer was too late, but wanted Armistead to know that he had tried to reach him in time. Notice how respectful he is to Armistead. We can be fairly sure the message got through to Hancock.

And so the last thing Armistead thinks about is Hancock and Mira, whom he presumes will be the only one of the four of them, the two couples who were best friends. Armistead’s dying gesture is one where he sends, not his compliments, but his regrets. He has achieved one of his goals as an officer—he has breached the enemy’s wall and come down on the other side. The moment of joy gives way to his sorrow. He wants Hancock to know how sorry he is.

July 3, 1863, Chapter 5, ‘Longstreet’:

Encounters, images, symbols, and quotes worthy of note:

1. Lee's admission, "It is all my fault, it is all my fault." (332) Watch how the men respond, refusing to blame Lee. One even begs to be permitted to reform and try again.

2. Pickett's destruction, both militarily and personally and the parallels to the "wild-haired child" in the Buford chapter

3. Pickett's encounter with Lee provides the incentive for Longstreet to put himself in harm’s way, throw away his life along with the others’ lives Lee has thrown away, but he picks up the rifle so he can take a few of the enemy with him.

4. Longstreet's attempt to ride out and meet the remnants of the Union army alone on horseback—Goree’s response, “General, I tell you plain. There are times when you worry me.” (335) and “It’s no use trying to get yourself killed, General. The Lord will come for you in His own time.” Goree is an important sideline character because, while Longstreet spends his career taking care of his boys and Lee, someone, Goree, is looking out for him. From what I’ve read, this is represented accurately. Goree stays with Longstreet for a time even after the war.

5. The final encounter between Lee and Longstreet (337-340). Lee seems genuinely shaken in his ideals, looking to Longstreet for that vision of reality that he had previously dismissed. Longstreet's anger and resentment toward Lee does NOT eliminate his genuine concern for


Lee's welfare. His certain knowledge that the war is all but lost lingers on one side of his brain—the side with the calculator, while the side that feels things deeply has all manner of mingled emotions: rage, disgust, despair, and pity. He is still ready to help Lee at the slightest indication of Lee’s weakness or need. Indeed, Longstreet and his wife name one of their sons Robert Lee Longstreet. Historically, Longstreet does request to be removed from Lee’s army and sent to serve with his First Corps in the Army of Tennessee, which is granted after Gettysburg. He returns to Lee’s army before the war’s end and accompanies Lee to Appomattox. Both things are true simultaneously. The complexity of the relationship is authentic, as is the complexity of each major character in the novel.

6. Notice Longstreet at the end of the chapter. He goes out onto the field to say goodbye. Now, who is going to be out on the field? He is likely thinking about Armistead and Garnett in particular. And notice that his last order of business in the novel is to give the order to retreat.

Symbols1. “The sun died gold and red.” If the sun is the Army of Northern Virginia (the dying army),

gold may correspond with honor and red with blood. 2. “The old man had his hand over his eyes.” Remember in whose hands the Army of Northern

Virginia is, and look how those hands, weak and painful, are shielding his vision. It’s after he takes them away from his eyes that he tells Longstreet, “And now you must help me see what must be done. Help us to see.” (339) Lee has been obeying his vision of idealism, which came up against Longstreet’s realism and was worsted in the face-off. Lee finally turns to the one whose “curse” it is “to see the thing clearly” (127) and asks for help.

3. “The facts rose up like shattered fenceposts in the mist.” (337) If the fenceposts are shattered, there is no longer room for decision.

Quotations

1. “He tried once formally to pray, but there was no one there and no words came, and over and over he said to himself, ‘Heavenly Father, Heavenly Father.’” This is the crisis of faith come full circle. He tried substituting Lee as a father figure for God and that didn’t work. He’s back to God in this chapter, but it doesn’t seem to be going any better.

2. “,,,suddenly he saw George Pickett, bloodstained. His hat was gone; his hair streamed like a blasted flower.”

3. “Pickett’s eyes lighted as if a suddent pain had shot through hi, He started to cry. Lee said again with absolute calm, ‘General, you must look to your Division.’ Pickett said tearfully, voice of a bewildered angry boy, ‘General Lee, I have no Division.’” (333)4. “’Sir? What about my men?’ as if even now there was still something Lee could do to fix

it. ‘What about my men? Armistead is gone. Garnett is gone. Kemper is gone. All my colonels are gone. General, every one. Most of my men are gone. Good God, sir, what about my men?’” (333)


5. “He thought of Lee as he had looked riding that hill, his hat off so that the retreating men could see him and recognize him. When they saw him they actually stopped running. From Death itself.” (335)

6. “All that was left now was more dying. It was a final defeat. They had all died and it had accomplished nothing, the wall was unbroken, the blue line was sound.” (337)

7. “’Peter, I’m going to need your help.’” (338)8. “’I don’t think we can win it now.’” (339)9. “’I don’t know if I can go on leading them. To die. For nothing.’” (339)10. “’They do not die for us. Not for us. That at least is a blessing… Each man has his own

reason to die. But if they go on, I will go on.’”11. “’If the war goes on—and it will, it will—what else can we do but go on? It is the same

question forever, what else can we do? If they fight, we will fight with them. And does it really matter after all who wins? Was that ever really the question? Will God ask that question in the end?’” (339)

12. “’But if a soldier fights only for soldiers, he cannot ever win. It is only the soldiers who die.’” (339) Lee is comparing Longstreet’s focus on his men to the larger purposes in the war, those of the idealist, honor in particular. Lee’s last great truth is a challenge to Chamberlain’s stirring speech at the beginning of the novel, “What we’re all fighting for, in the end, is each other.” (30) In essence, Lee is saying that battles can be lost without killing a Cause, but battles can’t even be fought without killing soldiers. It may be the most realistic thing Lee says in the novel. He still has traces of idealism in this chapter, but they are tempered with reality, unfamiliar to Lee but one which he faces honestly.

July 3, 1863, Chapter 6, ‘Chamberlain’:

1. It’s official. Chamberlain forgot all about the Cause and finds it weird to think about anything abstract, any larger purpose, any motivation other than actual battle. And here is a question to consider: Is it different to fight because of something than to fight for something? What hinges on the precise diction there? All of the professional soldiers are fighting because they are professional soldiers and war happened to break out during their chosen career. What they are fighting for might vary, but many likely don’t think about that too much.2. There are some connections to the brotherhood of man, the war of brothers, there are good men on both sides.3. When Chamberlain thinks of Kilrain, he transposes ‘Animals’ for ‘Angels’—at least, that’s how it reads in mass paperback edition. “He was thinking of Kilrain: no divine spark. Animal meat: the Killer Animals.” The trade paperback says ‘Angels’ for some reason. I haven’t been able to determine which was in the original manuscript, but I think ‘Animals’ fits in the context.

Other notable quotes:

1. He knew he had been present at one of the great moments in history.” (341)


2. “Chamberlain closed his eyes and saw it again. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen…He did not understand it: a mile of men flowing slowly, steadily, inevitably up the long green ground, dying all the while, coming to kill you…and yet even above your own fear came the sensation of unspeakable beauty.” (342)3. “He had forgotten the Cause. When the guns began firing he had forgotten it completely. It seemed very strange now to think of morality, or that minister long ago, or the poor runaway black.” (343)4. “It was my privilege to be here today. He thanked God for the honor. Then he went back to his men.” (344)5. “…the sky opened along the ridge, and the vast water thundered down, drowning the fires, flooding the red creeks, washing the rocks and the grass and the white bones of the dead, cleansing the earth and soaking it thick and rich with water and wet again with clean cold rainwater, and driving the blood deep into the earth, to grow it again with the roots toward Heaven.” (344, 345)

There are a number of things here that seem inside-out—among them Chamberlain’s thinking that a mass of men moving up a hill to kill him is the most beautiful sight imaginable. To his credit, Chamberlain both acknowledges it and admits that it puzzles and disturbs him. As far as the reference to the rains driving the blood into the earth to grow it again, roots-side up—I’m not sure. War is unnatural. The blood enriches the soil which grows the wheat men eat, thereby providing blood for the next unnatural war. Is this an image where the roots are upside down or where Heaven is in the opposite direction of where we think it is? It’s as cryptic as war itself.

Afterword

Lee is one of 3 men whose pardons are not granted by President Johnson due to the strength of their influence in the Confederate army. (Jefferson Davis is another) When Lee lays down his arms, the army does likewise. It’s hard to imagine considering the horrific condition of soldiers and civilians, but there were many who were ready to fight to the last man standing rather than be ruled by Washington. The blurb about Lee mentions his ‘prestige’—I guess that’s one thing to call it. After his death he becomes the symbol of the Noble South; prior to his death, he is beloved by his men and respected by EVERYONE. If he says the matter is over, the matter must be over. Lee openly admits his responsibility for the loss at Gettysburg, but it doesn’t sound like he has any idea what he could have done differently.

Longstreet is the third man whom Johnson refuses to pardon. After the war, he tries to team up with Grant to work on compromise so the conditions of surrender won’t be as harsh for the South—it didn’t go over well in either the South or the North. Early is the one who makes sure Longstreet is left off the list for the Army of Northern VA reunion, and he spends a good bit of time and energy broadcasting Longstreet’s role in the defeat at Gettysburg when Longstreet echoes what Lee had said—Lee’s the one who lost the battle. Early’s

scandal seems to speak to his overall sliminess as a human being, whether he’s busy maligning Longstreet or not. The South has no real reason to cheer Longstreet anyway, though, since he is


seen a traitor to their cause by seeking compromise. (It sounds eerily like some of our political landscape today.)

Armistead’s personal Bible is a treasured gift for Mira Hancock—it would have notes of his personal journey of faith to the person he believes will be the last remaining member of the four best friends.

Chamberlain virtually begins the novel—his is the first “character” chapter, he ends the novel, and he names the novel. When we read the Afterword, we see why. His selection by Grant to accept Lee’s surrender is amazing to me considering that he wasn’t a professional soldier. This man was the quintessential “gentleman soldier,” rising to distinction after distinction, both during and after the war. The most lasting image for me is the moment that he calls his men to attention to salute the South. It is the ultimate act of respect and comradeship—a gesture unexpected by just about everyone, it seems. This brotherhood, this kinship, this equality-of-all-men philosophy that Chamberlain espouses is real. The gesture is not of the conqueror to the conquered, but rather a suitable and respectful end to the American Civil War, truly a war of brothers.

web view... after playing this poor fool farmer for a while i can’t help but feel sorry ......

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