ls be!' I know war's getting to seem to me an
awful foolishness. That cornfield out there is sickening--Now! that
bleeding's stopped--"
On the left, around and before the Dunkard church, the very fury of the
storm brought about at last a sudden failing, a stillness and cessation
that seemed like those of death. Sound enough there was undoubtedly, and
in the centre the battle yet roared, but by comparison there seemed a
dark and sultry calm. Far and near lay the fallen. It was now noon, and
since dawn twelve thousand men had been killed or wounded on this left,
attacked by Fighting Joe Hooker, held by Stonewall Jackson. Fifteen
general officers were dead or disabled. Hardly a brigade, not many
regiments, were officered as they had been when the sun rose. There was
an exhaustion. Franklin had entered on the field, and one might have
thought that the grey would yet be overpowered. But all the blue forces
were broken, disorganized; there came an exhaustion, a lassitude.
McClellan sent an order forbidding another attack. Cornfield and wood
lay heavy, hot, and dark, and by comparison, still.
Stonewall Jackson sat Little Sorrel near the Dunkard church. They
brought him reports of the misery of the wounded and their great
numbers. His medical director, of whom he was fond, came to him.
"General, it is very bad! The field hospital looks as though all the
fields of the world had given tribute. I know that you do not like
hospitals--but would you come and look, sir?"
The general shook his head. "What is the use of looking? There have to
be wounded. Do the utmost that you can, doctor."
"I have thought, sir, that, seeing the day is not ended, and they are so
overwhelmingly in force, and the Potomac is not three miles in our
rear--I have thought that we might manage to get the less badly hurt
across. If they attack again and the day should end in defeat--"
"What have you got there?" asked Jackson. "Apples?"
"Yes, sir. I passed beneath a tree and gathered half a dozen. Would you
like--"
"Yes. I breakfasted very early." He took the rosy fruit and began to
eat. His eyes, just glinting under the forage cap, surveyed the scene
before him,--trampled wood where the shells had cut through bough and
branch, trampled cornfields where it seemed that a whirlwind had passed,
his resting, shattered commands, the dead and the dying, the dead
horses, the disabled guns, the drifting sulphurous smoke, and, across
the turnpike, in the fi
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