Lee too, was in no condition to take advantage of his
successful defense. The old days when he could send Jackson on a great
turning movement, to fall with all the crushing impact of a surprise upon
the Northern flank, were gone forever. Stuart, the brilliant cavalryman,
was there, but his men were not numerous enough, and, however brilliant,
he was not Jackson.
The sun rose higher. Midmorning came, and the two armies still lay
close. Harry grew stronger in his opinion that they would not fight
again that day, although he watched, like the others, for any sign of
movement in the Northern camp.
Noon came, and the same dead silence. The fires had burned themselves
out now and the dusk that had reigned over the Wilderness, before the
battle, recovered its ground, thickened still further by the vast
quantities of smoke still hanging low under a cloudy sky. But the aspect
of the Wilderness itself was more mournful than ever. Coals smoldered in
the burned areas, and now and then puffs of wind picked up the hot ashes
and sent them in the faces of the soldiers. Thickets and bushes had been
cut down by bullets and cannon balls, and lay heaped together in tangled
confusion. Back of the lines, the surgeons, with aching backs, toiled
over the wounded, as they had toiled through the night.
Pages:
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377