Cain at Gettysburg
Winner of the American Library Association's W. Y. Boyd Award for Excellence in Military Fiction
Two mighty armies blunder toward each other, one led by confident, beloved Robert E. Lee and the other by dour George Meade. They'll meet in a Pennsylvania crossroads town where no one planned to fight.
In this sweeping, savagely realistic novel, the greatest battle ever fought on American soil explodes into life at Gettysburg. As generals squabble, staffs err. Tragedy unfolds for immigrants in blue and barefoot Rebels alike. The fate of our nation will be decided in a few square miles of fields.
Following a tough Confederate sergeant from the Blue Ridge, a bitter Irish survivor of the Great Famine, a German political refugee, and gun crews in blue and gray, Cain at Gettysburg is as grand in scale as its depictions of Civil War combat are unflinching.
For three days, battle rages. Through it all, James Longstreet is haunted by a vision of war that leads to a fateful feud with Robert E. Lee. Scheming Dan Sickles nearly destroys his own army. Gallant John Reynolds and obstreperous Win Hancock, fiery William Barksdale and dashing James Johnston Pettigrew, gallop toward their fates….
There are no marble statues on this battlefield, only men of flesh and blood, imperfect and courageous. From New York Times bestselling author and former U.S. Army officer Ralph Peters, Cain at Gettysburg is bound to become a classic of men at war.
Mounting dead and wounded. But all their efforts soon would be for nothing: Their batteries were bound to be overrun in minutes. Then Longstreet witnessed a monstrous, inexplicable turn of events: The gray ranks attacking into the guns wheeled abruptly to the right, exposing their flank to the delighted Yankee gunners. Longstreet watched, riveted, as the Union batteries tore Kershaw’s left wing to pieces. Who could have given such an order? Why? What folly, in God’s name, had he just.
Comrade in arms. “You always tell me to shut up, Artie. Know why that is? Do you, now? You don’t like the truth of this world, that’s all. Tell me one word I spoke is a lie, just one word of it.” He spit yellow filth on the ground. Hugh Gordon broke the bitter mood. “Looks like those clouds are pulling off south. Going to be a right scorcher.” On the pike, the long lines in gray flashed bits of color where men had chosen civilian shirts over nakedness. Officers of the waiting 26th North.
For the body’s tribulations. Major General A. P. Hill saluted and spurred his horse. Soon, he was lost to sight amid an army hurrying forward. * * * They saw the town ahead. It lay under drifting smoke. Lieutenant Colonel Boebel bellowed the order to advance at the double-quick. “Mein Gott!” Bettelman cried. “I can’t, I can’t!” But the watchmaker could, and he did. Groaning. The regiment had covered at least a dozen miles in haste, through drenching rain and mire, then under a punishing.
Water. “Well, Dan, we’ll have to make the best of things, you and I.” Butterfield’s face was a mask without emotion. “I know I haven’t been in the good graces of this headquarters of late,” Meade went on. “Nor I in yours, General Meade.” “But I think we shall manage. We must.” Butterfield remained impassive. It exasperated Meade, who had reached the limit of his affability. He didn’t like Butterfield, never had. He only hoped he could trust him to do the right thing for the army, if not for.
“Keep going,” Blake yelled. Looking around him, he saw that both of the Bunyan twins were with him, stink near. Beyond them, Tam McMinn towered above the shrubbery, but somehow had managed to bloody his face with scratches. Blake glimpsed Lieutenant Devereaux in the maelstrom, only to see the boy yank himself down in the brush, a child playing hide-and-go-seek. Blake was unmoved, didn’t much care if the officer was just plain quitting or if he’d been hit. He had not expected much beyond.