With General Longstreet
I was there with General James “Pete” Longstreet on the evening of June 30, 1863 at Gettysburg the night before the start of the big battle. His camp was surprisingly quiet. This was the last calm before the start of the storm of the next hundred and fifty years. The only excitement was a poker game. The participants tried to get the General, a legendary card player, involved but he doesn’t bite.
General Longstreet is quite a physical speciman. Head big as a stump. Massive shoulders. Full beard. Man of few words. Witty but short-spoken. His three kids died of fever last winter, all in the same week. How could man carry on under these circumstances?
“What’s going to happen tomorrow, General,” I ask him.
“Heck if I know,” he responds. “We haven’t heard from Stuart. Jeb is out joy-riding again I’m sure. Trying to get his name in the Richmond papers. Who knows. We go for weeks at a time not knowing where that knucklehead is. I can’t believe there are many Yankees out there if we haven’t heard from Stuart. He’s supposed to be letting us know where the Yankees are.”
“Have you heard from General Lee?”
“Well, you know I wasn’t in favor of going into Pennsylvania in the first place. I think the Old Man has lost his marbles. Him and Davis both. Is this crazy or what? We need to stay at home and make the bluebellies come to us. I’d rather fight ‘em in Mississippi than in Pennsylvania. I suppose he’ll show up tomorrow if he doesn’t have anything better to do. To my dying day I’ll never understand why the Old Man seems to enjoy attacking fortified Union positions. The best defense is a good defense. He doesn’t know that.”
“Speaking of Mississippi, have you heard from Vicksburg?”
“Not to worry. Those Mississippi boys can take care of themselves.”
“What about Grant?”
“Good man. I have nothing personal against him except that he drinks too much. We’ve been friends since the academy.”
“They say Grant is a butcher.”
“You’d be a butcher too if you drank a quart of bourbon a day.”
Just then General Pickett comes riding up.
“Hi, George,” says General Longstreet.
Pickett dismounts.
“Can you believe this pinprick finished last in his class at West Point?” General Longstreet says to me, pointing to Pickett. “He goes charging where angels fear to tread. Lack of good sense has always been his prime motivator. And look at that hair (Pickett has shoulder-length curly hair). You’re a real sweetie, aren’t you, George?”
General Pickett bows grandly, his head almost touching the ground, sweeping his hat adorned with TWO feathers in review.
“Good evening, General Longstreet. I always appreciate your kind remarks, kind sir.” Pickett smirks slightly. “Your sense of humor never ceases to amuse me.”
“We’ve all seen you now, George,” says General Longstreet. “Better get some rest. Tomorrow may be a busy day. By the way, how’s your Sallie?”
General Pickett rides away meekly without responding.
General Longstreet turns to me. “Pickett is in love with a schoolgirl half his age. Crazy man.”
He ruminates to himself and then he asks me the big question.
“What do YOU think is going to happen tomorrow, Fred?”
“The history of Western Civilization for the next 150 years is on the line in this battle to come. Other than that, nothing.”
Chuckling, General Longstreet says, “In that case, I’ll sleep well tonight. Not to worry.”
I decide to let it it go. History cannot be changed anyway. Many supporters of The Cause will say that Longstreet lost Gettysburg and therefore the war and that he was a traitor for joining the Grant Administration. Poor Longstreet. A good man, but endlessly controversial. But he’s MY hero.
“By the way, General, may I call you Pete?”
“Sure. I’ve been called worse.”
P.S. Here is the terrible truth. If I had been there supernaturally and had been able to warn Longstreet and Lee about the outcome of this battle with the strategy they (Lee) employed and IF I had been able to tell them the correct strategy which would have resulted in a Confederate victory, I would NOT have done so. For the Southerner of 2008, this would have been the RIGHT thing to do, as terrible was the suffering of this battle was. Oh my, Pete, how tough it would have been to have been there with you the night before the battle knowing the terrible outcome and yet keeping my mouth shut.
General Longstreet is quite a physical speciman. Head big as a stump. Massive shoulders. Full beard. Man of few words. Witty but short-spoken. His three kids died of fever last winter, all in the same week. How could man carry on under these circumstances?
“What’s going to happen tomorrow, General,” I ask him.
“Heck if I know,” he responds. “We haven’t heard from Stuart. Jeb is out joy-riding again I’m sure. Trying to get his name in the Richmond papers. Who knows. We go for weeks at a time not knowing where that knucklehead is. I can’t believe there are many Yankees out there if we haven’t heard from Stuart. He’s supposed to be letting us know where the Yankees are.”
“Have you heard from General Lee?”
“Well, you know I wasn’t in favor of going into Pennsylvania in the first place. I think the Old Man has lost his marbles. Him and Davis both. Is this crazy or what? We need to stay at home and make the bluebellies come to us. I’d rather fight ‘em in Mississippi than in Pennsylvania. I suppose he’ll show up tomorrow if he doesn’t have anything better to do. To my dying day I’ll never understand why the Old Man seems to enjoy attacking fortified Union positions. The best defense is a good defense. He doesn’t know that.”
“Speaking of Mississippi, have you heard from Vicksburg?”
“Not to worry. Those Mississippi boys can take care of themselves.”
“What about Grant?”
“Good man. I have nothing personal against him except that he drinks too much. We’ve been friends since the academy.”
“They say Grant is a butcher.”
“You’d be a butcher too if you drank a quart of bourbon a day.”
Just then General Pickett comes riding up.
“Hi, George,” says General Longstreet.
Pickett dismounts.
“Can you believe this pinprick finished last in his class at West Point?” General Longstreet says to me, pointing to Pickett. “He goes charging where angels fear to tread. Lack of good sense has always been his prime motivator. And look at that hair (Pickett has shoulder-length curly hair). You’re a real sweetie, aren’t you, George?”
General Pickett bows grandly, his head almost touching the ground, sweeping his hat adorned with TWO feathers in review.
“Good evening, General Longstreet. I always appreciate your kind remarks, kind sir.” Pickett smirks slightly. “Your sense of humor never ceases to amuse me.”
“We’ve all seen you now, George,” says General Longstreet. “Better get some rest. Tomorrow may be a busy day. By the way, how’s your Sallie?”
General Pickett rides away meekly without responding.
General Longstreet turns to me. “Pickett is in love with a schoolgirl half his age. Crazy man.”
He ruminates to himself and then he asks me the big question.
“What do YOU think is going to happen tomorrow, Fred?”
“The history of Western Civilization for the next 150 years is on the line in this battle to come. Other than that, nothing.”
Chuckling, General Longstreet says, “In that case, I’ll sleep well tonight. Not to worry.”
I decide to let it it go. History cannot be changed anyway. Many supporters of The Cause will say that Longstreet lost Gettysburg and therefore the war and that he was a traitor for joining the Grant Administration. Poor Longstreet. A good man, but endlessly controversial. But he’s MY hero.
“By the way, General, may I call you Pete?”
“Sure. I’ve been called worse.”
P.S. Here is the terrible truth. If I had been there supernaturally and had been able to warn Longstreet and Lee about the outcome of this battle with the strategy they (Lee) employed and IF I had been able to tell them the correct strategy which would have resulted in a Confederate victory, I would NOT have done so. For the Southerner of 2008, this would have been the RIGHT thing to do, as terrible was the suffering of this battle was. Oh my, Pete, how tough it would have been to have been there with you the night before the battle knowing the terrible outcome and yet keeping my mouth shut.
posted by Fred Hudson at 10:11 AM
3 Comments:
If you HAD been there and HAD kept your mouth shut, would you not have been dead? Loose lips may sink ships, but a tight mouth might have gotten you killed in the south.
At least I would have died with dignity.
Well, there is that. However, I feel certain that someone would have come along, posed you oddly, taken your picture, and put it in a book.
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