The
Lynchburg
Road
lay
about
a
mile
north
of
cavalry headquarters.
It
ran
along
a
low
ridge,
partly
concealed
by timber,
with
a
boggy
little
brook
running
along
a
shallow valley
on
the
near
side,
and
a
couple
of
miles
to
the
east
it dipped
down
to
a
little
hollow
and
ran
through
the
village of
Appomattox
Court
House.
In
and
around
and
beyond
this village,
with
its
advance
guard
holding
the
breastworks
half a
mile
west
of
it,
was
what
remained
of
the
Army
of
Northern
Virginia.
Off
to
the
east,
out
of
sight
beyond
hills
and forests
but
not
more
than
six
or
eight
miles
away,
was
Meade with
the
II
Corps
and
the
VI
Corps,
coming
west
on
the Lynchburg
Road
to
pound
the
Confederate
rear.
In
effect, the
Federals
occupied
three
sides
of
a
square—cavalry
on the
west,
infantry
on
the
south,
Meade
and
the
rest
of
the army
on
the
east.
The
Rebel
army
was
inside
the
square,
and although
the
north
side
was
open
that
did
not
matter
because
the
Confederates
could
find
neither
food
nor
escape
in that
direction.
Their
only
possible
move
was
to
fight
their
way
west
along
the
Lynchburg
Road.
So
Sheridan
explained
it,
warning
the
generals
that
he
expected
the
Rebels
to
attack
at
any
moment
and
that
they
had better
get
ready
to
bring
their
troops
up
in
support.
19
While
he
was
talking
the
sound
of
musket
fire
came
down from
the
ridge.
It
was
sporadic,
at
first,
as
the
skirmishers pecked
away
at
each
other,
but
it
soon
grew
much
heavier and
there
was
the
heavy
booming
of
field
artillery.
The
big push
was
on,
and
Sheridan
sprang
into
the
saddle,
ordering the
rest
of
his
cavalry
up
into
line
and
telling
the
officers
to bring
their
infantry
up
as
fast
as
they
could.
Then
he
was
off, and
the
generals
galloped
back
to
put
their
men
in
motion.
The
hopeful
little
breakfast
fires
died
unnoticed,
nothing ever
cooked
on
them,
and
the
infantry
took
their
muskets, got
into
column,
and
went
hurrying
north
to
get
astride
of the
Lynchburg
Road.
The
crossroad
they
were
on
led through
heavy
timber
and
the
men
could
see
nothing,
but
the noise
of
the
firing
grew
louder
and
louder
as
they
marched. Then,
for
the
last
time
in
their
lives,
beyond
the
trees
they heard
the
high,
spine-tingling
wail
of
the
Rebel
yell,
a
last great
shout
of
defiance
flung
against
the
morning
sky
by
a doomed
army
marching
into
the
final
sunset.
The
Federals
got
across
the
Lynchburg
Road,
swung
into line
of
battle
facing
east,
and
marched
toward
the
firing
and the
shouting.
As
they
marched,
dismounted
cavalry
came drifting
back,
and
the
troopers
waved
their
caps
and
cheered when
they
saw
the
infantry,
and
called
out;
"Give
it
to
'em —we've
got
'em
in
a
tight
place!"
20
In
a
clearing
there
was
Sheridan,
talking
with
Griffin
and other
officers
of
the
V
Corps;
Sheridan,
talking
rapidly, pounding
a
palm
with
his
fist;
and
the
battle
line
marched
on and
came
under
the
fire
of
Rebel
artillery.
One
brigade
went across
somebody's
farm,
just
here,
and
as
the
firing
grew heavier
a
shell
blew
the
end
out
of
the
farmers
chicken house,
and
the
air
was
abruptly
full
of
demoralized
chickens, squawking
indignantly,
fluttering
off
in
frantic
disorganized flight.
And
here
was
the
last
battle
of
the
war,
and
the
men were
marching
up
to
the
moment
of
apotheosis
and
glory
-
but
they
were
men
who
had
not
eaten
for
twenty-four
hours and
more,
and
they
knew
Virginia
poultry
from
of
old,
and what
had
begun
as
an
attack
on
a
Rebel
line
turned
into
a hilarious
chase
after
fugitive
chickens.
The
battle
smoke rolled
down
over
the
crest,
and
shells
were
exploding
and
the farm
buildings
were
ablaze,
and
Federal
officers
were
waving swords
and
barking
orders
in
scandalized
indignation.
But the
soldiers
whooped
and
laughed
and
scrambled
after
their prey,
and
as
the
main
battle
line
swept
on
most
of
this
brigade
was
either
continuing
to
hunt
chickens
or
was
building little
fires
and
preparing
to
cook
the
ones
that
had
been caught.
21