We always retreated in good order, though always under fire. As we
retreated we would wheel and fire, or repel a rush, and then stagger
on to the next hilltop, or vantage ground, where a new fight would be
made. And so on through the entire day. At night my men had no rest.
We marched through the night in order to get a little respite from
fighting. All night long I would see my poor fellows hobbling along,
prying wagons or artillery out of the mud, and supplementing the work
of our broken-down horses. At dawn, though, they would be in line
ready for battle, and they would fight with the steadiness and valor
of the Old Guard.
This lasted until the night of the seventh of April. The retreat of
Lee's army was lit up with the fire and flash of battle, in which my
brave men moved about like demigods for five days and nights. Then we
were sent to the front for a rest, and Longstreet was ordered to cover
the retreating army. On the evening of the eighth, when I had reached
the front, my scout George brought me two men in Confederate uniform,
who, he said, he believed to be the enemy, as he had seen them
counting our men as they filed past. I had the men brought to my
campfire, and examined them. They made a plausible defence, but George
was positive they were spies, and I ordered them searched. He failed
to find anything, when I ordered him to examine their boots. In the
bottom of one of the boots I found an order from General Grant to
General Ord, telling him to move by forced marches toward Lynchburg
and cut off General Lee's retreat. The men then confessed that they
were spies, and belonged to General Sheridan. They stated that they
knew that the penalty of their course was death, but asked that I
should not kill them, as the war could only last a few days longer,
anyhow. I kept them prisoners, and turned them over to General
Sheridan after the surrender. I at once sent the information to
General Lee, and a short time afterward received orders to go to his
headquarters. That night was held Lee's last council of war. There
were present General Lee, General Fitzhugh Lee, as head of the
cavalry, and Pendleton, as chief of the artillery, and myself. General
Longstreet was, I think, too busily engaged to attend.
General Lee then exhibited to us the correspondence he had had with
General Grant that day, and asked our opinion of the situation. It
seemed that surrender was inevitable. The only chance of escape was
that I could cut a way for the army through the lines in front of me.
General Lee asked me if I could do this. I replied that I did not know
what forces were in front of me; that if General Ord had not
arrived--as we thought then he had not--with his heavy masses of
infantry, I could cut through. I guaranteed that my men would cut a
way through all the cavalry that could be massed in front of them.
The council finally dissolved with the understanding that the army
should be surrendered if I discovered the next morning, after feeling
the enemy's line, that the infantry had arrived in such force that I
could not cut my way through.
My men were drawn up in the little town of Appomattox that night. I
still had about four thousand men under me, as the army had been
divided into two commands and given to General Longstreet and myself.
Early on the morning of the ninth I prepared for the assault upon the
enemy's line, and began the last fighting done in Virginia. My men
rushed forward gamely and broke the line of the enemy and captured two
pieces of artillery. I was still unable to tell what I was fighting; I
did not know whether I was striking infantry or dismounted cavalry. I
only know that my men were driving them back, and were getting further
and further through. Just then I had a message from General Lee,
telling me a flag of truce was in existence, leaving it to my
discretion as to what course to pursue. My men were still pushing
their way on. I sent at once to hear from General Longstreet, feeling
that, if he was marching toward me, we might still cut through and
carry the army forward. I learned that he was about two miles off,
with his face just opposite from mine, fighting for his life. I thus
saw that the case was hopeless. The further each of us drove the enemy
the further we drifted apart, and the more exposed we left our wagon
trains and artillery, which were parked between us. Every line either
of us broke only opened the gap the wider. I saw plainly that the
Federals would soon rush in between us, and then there would have been
no army. I, therefore, determined to send a flag of truce. I called
Colonel Peyton of my staff to me, and told him that I wanted him to
carry a flag of truce forward. He replied:
"General, I have no flag of truce."