Free The Fateful Lightning by Jeff Shaara Page B

ran straight southward into Macon, which seemed to show that the Federal forces would make any advance toward Macon along the east side of the river. At thevery least, this observation allowed Wheeler to consolidate his cavalry to that side of the river, eliminating the need to keep up patrols westward. In Macon itself, the local militia and the few Confederate regulars there began to focus most of their attention on strengthening their defenses to the north and east, which helped to narrow their area of vulnerability. Under the wary eye of Wheeler’s observers, with the occasional sniping skirmish to keep the Federals on their toes, Howard continued the tedious task of constructing the bridge.
    Whether or not Howard was indeed aiming for Macon was still only speculation. Milledgeville lay east of the Ocmulgee as well. Despite the panic in the state capital, Wheeler had to concern himself with what seemed to be the most logical military target for Sherman’s army. But by crossing the swollen river in such miserable weather, Howard’s troops had strung themselves out for a good many miles. There was no illusion among the Confederate horsemen that they had any hope of containing a major thrust by close to thirty thousand Federal infantry. But at the very least, the rain had accomplished what Wheeler knew his horsemen could not. The muddy roads and turbulent river had effectively slowed the Federal advance in a way that gave valuable time to the Confederate forces, time Wheeler could use to make an attack of his own.
    MACON, GEORGIA—NOVEMBER 19, 1864
TO THE PEOPLE OF GEORGIA:
    Arise for the defense of your native soil! Rally round your patriotic governor and gallant soldiers! Obstruct and destroy all roads in Sherman’s front, flank, and rear, and his army will soon starve in your midst! Be confident and resolute! Trust in an overruling Providence, and success will crown your efforts. I hasten to join you in defense of your homes and firesides
.
    GENERAL PIERRE G. T. BEAUREGARD
    The optimistic entreaty had reached Macon from Corinth, Mississippi, where Beauregard’s journey eastward had been slowed by poorweather and crippled rail lines. Though some newspapers continued to portray Sherman’s army in desperate straits, and all but ignored what the Federal troops had done to Atlanta, Beauregard’s message seemed to acknowledge that attention was being paid, that someone in the Confederate hierarchy at least knew what was going on.
    While Beauregard struggled with feeble lines of transportation, the senior commanders available had gathered in Macon to weigh their limited options. Wheeler had brought a half dozen of his cavalry commanders together, those who were nearby, the fortunate few who had brought their men out of the miserable weather. The word had come to Wheeler that finally, in response to the urgent pleas from the local commanders in Macon, assistance would be sent their way from outside the state of Georgia. For Seeley it was pure chance that he was closer to Wheeler than his own brigade commander, General Dibrell. Whether or not Wheeler disliked Seeley, he seemed at least to respect his ability to lead men on horseback. For now it meant that Seeley and most of his men had come in out of the rain.
    They gathered in a stately home, kept warm by a glorious fire at one end of a large sitting room where a half dozen of Wheeler’s officers waited. Seeley was convinced that Wheeler knew exactly what was going on, but it was Wheeler’s way to keep the most important orders and information to himself, to parcel out to his officers only the small details he required them to know.
    As they were waiting for more men to appear, Wheeler had read Beauregard’s note aloud; he handed the paper to Seeley now, said, “Pass this around, let everyone see it for themselves. Make sure General Dibrell is informed. You can read, Captain, is that correct?”
    Seeley had become used to the edge that crept through Wheeler’s taunts,