All this was, however, reversed by one wretched, microscopic incident.
The great machine was to be arrested by an atom in its path. The
rations were not found at Amelia Court-House; the army must have food,
or die; half the force was dispersed in foraging parties throughout the
surrounding country, and the delay gave Grant time to mass heavily in
Lee's front, at Burksville.
Then all was decided. Lee had not doubted his ability to crush a corps,
or even more, before the main force of the enemy came up. He saw as
clearly now, that there was no hope of his cutting his way through
Grant's army. It was there in his front--the failure of rations had
caused all. With what must have been a terrible weight upon his heart,
Lee directed his march toward Lynchburg, determined to fight to the
end; and, as he had said during the winter, "die sword in hand."
Then commenced the woeful tragedy. What words can paint that retreat?
There is only one other that equals it--Napoleon's retreat from Moscow.
The army staggered on, fighting, and starving, and dying. Stalwart men
fell by the roadside, or dropped their muskets as they tottered on. The
wagons were drawn by skeleton mules, without food like the soldiers. If
an ear of corn was found, the men seized and munched it fiercely, like
animals.
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