The Day of Reckoning (3)
The day uprisings broke out across every state in the South, it was no exaggeration to say that the Confederate States of America had effectively collapsed. There were a million people pouring out into the streets, and in a South already suffering from severe food shortages, what would happen if they abandoned the plantations?
The primary focus of these million rebels was to seize the food supplies intended for the military, and this alone was enough to deal a near-catastrophic blow to the Confederate Army. Even though Atlanta had been lost, the Western Army under Johnston, which had continued to resist, was running out of the bare minimum of rations required to hold their ground.
In fact, Johnston seemed so utterly fed up with this absurd situation that he was threatening to surrender if no more food arrived. However, neither Davis nor Breckinridge had any clever solutions. All they could do was try to suppress the mob somehow and restore a steady supply of food to the army.
But that was easier said than done. How could they possibly revive a supply chain that had already been smashed to pieces?
"Wouldn't that just provoke an even greater backlash?"
"Then what? Shall we just surrender? Are you saying we should surrender so shamefully, without even putting up a proper fight, admitting that we lack the strength to wage war because of the blacks?"
In truth, that was the reality, but no one wanted to admit it. How could there be such a disgraceful war in the world? They had started a war to defend slavery, only for those very slaves to rise up and cause them to lose the war in a single year? This would be a monumental event that would go down in world history, and they would have no defense against being called the stupidest war in history.
Neither Davis nor Breckinridge wanted to be recorded as the most foolish leaders in human history.
"Then, Secretary, you should lead this operation. You are, after all, the soul of our South."
"Excuse me? Something like this should obviously be led by the President. You are the one who united the South, Mr. President."
They had spent their time nitpicking and playing power games over who was the head of the South, but now they were passing the buck, demanding the other take responsibility. Fighting the Union Army was one thing, but suppressing a black uprising was a problem if it went well, and an even bigger problem if it failed. To put it bluntly, if they committed a massacre of blacks here and slavery was abolished after the war ended, the fate of the person who planned the operation was all too obvious.
Ultimately, after intense deliberation, they arrived at a single answer. There was only one person who could overcome this unprecedented crisis: Robert E. Lee, the commander of the Security Forces.
Davis accepted Breckinridge's strong recommendation and entrusted all remaining military power to Robert E. Lee. Security Force Commander Robert E. Lee, and Deputy Commander James Seuret. For the grand purpose of saving the South, the two men took the last of the troops scraped together from across the region and headed to the battlefield.
Their destination was Virginia's Shenandoah Valley, the core region responsible for supplying the Confederate Army's food. At a point where Atlanta had been lost to Sherman, if they lost Virginia's breadbasket as well, the Confederate Army would lose its last remaining strength to resist. In that sense, it was no exaggeration to say that the final fate of the South rested upon them.
Yet, the face of the man in supreme command, Robert E. Lee, was filled with deep sorrow.
"This is maddening..."
"The top priority for the blacks who have risen up in Virginia and the surrounding states is, without a doubt, food. If you intend to secure the breadbasket, you must go in with the resolve to shoot every single one of those blacks who are after the grain."
"Seuret, do you think this order is right?"
He had accepted the nominal title of Security Force Commander only because he needed an excuse to stay away from the battlefield legally. But now, he was being told to lead an army and fight under the guise of 'maintaining security.' To make matters worse, the targets he was told to fight were not enemy soldiers, but blacks who had risen in revolt. Robert E. Lee could not hide his anguish, hoping James would say something to lighten his burden, even if just a little.
"General, a soldier has no choice but to follow orders, does he not? To disobey an order is to argue that the current government does not possess the legitimate authority to command."
"That is true... which is why I am struggling with this decision."
"Personally, I don't think it's worth agonizing over, but if you say you cannot make a decision, General, let me ask you one thing."
"Go ahead. Speak."
"You said you refused the offer to command the Union Army because you could not bear to aim your guns at your own countrymen, but aren't the majority of the rebels we are going to trample now blacks living in Virginia?"
"......"
At Seuret's sharp point, Lee was left speechless. As he said, the majority of the rebels currently entrenched in the breadbasket were slaves who had been abused in Virginia. A significant number of Southerners would scoff at the idea of slaves being their neighbors, but Robert E. Lee could not agree with such sentiments. From the beginning, the reason he had not fought actively for the Confederate Army was that he could not bring himself to follow the Southern consensus that blacks were not human.
"But, Seuret. You have followed the South's orders more faithfully than anyone. Are you now telling me to refuse the South's orders?"
"Even I would have told them to go to hell if I had been ordered to massacre blacks."
"Then... what if I give the order to attack?"
"I would click my tongue, thinking I had misjudged the man. If you cannot make a decision, it might help to go and see for yourself."
Seuret left the tent after leaving those meaningful words. Left alone, Lee sat in the tent, pressing his forehead with both hands, and closed his eyes. If they did not crush the rebels in Virginia, the South would fall immediately. But even if they did crush them, it would only delay the inevitable; the tide could no longer be stopped. If so, was he to shoot tens of thousands of blacks just to buy that brief moment of time?
However, if he did not shoot, it was tantamount to Robert E. Lee himself pronouncing the doom of the Confederate States of America with his own hands. Perhaps this was the retribution for cowardly evading responsibility and running away. He had to make a choice, but he could not do it right now. Even though it was the land of the home he loved so dearly, the further he advanced, the heavier Robert E. Lee's heart became.
The road to the Shenandoah Valley was an open plain. Robert E. Lee looked out from his horse at the vast horizon. As always, the fields of his homeland were beautiful. Fertile land stretching out under the blue sky. But now, those fields were bustling not with crops, but with people.
"Th-that is..."
The officer at the front let his hand holding the binoculars drop, his voice trailing off without him realizing it. Lee took the binoculars and quickly scanned the front. And then, his breath hitched.
Tens of thousands. No, perhaps even more. A wave of people filling the endlessly stretching fields appeared through the lens of the binoculars. But the reason he was shocked was not simply because of the numbers. When he heard 'rebels,' he had vaguely imagined a band of fully armed bandits. But the crowd before his eyes did not consist only of adult men. Boys who looked no older than fifteen. Young women. Even elderly people with bent backs. Standing there in disarray, they looked less like an army and more like...
'...a family.'
The binoculars in Lee's hands trembled. Not even half of them held proper weapons. There were old hunting rifles, farm tools, and some even held nothing but stones.
"General, how... how should we handle them..."
An aide's voice trembled. Lee turned back to look at the faces of the soldiers he had led. Even the officers who had openly shouted that they must crush the blacks were now unable to put strength into the hands holding their rifles. It was a force that looked clumsy and fragile, as it was a mix of men, women, and children of all ages. But because of that, Robert E. Lee was afraid of them.
He raised the binoculars again to look closely at the faces of the blacks standing in the front row. Their eyes were filled with fear, but at the same time, they were filled with resolve. Lee knew faces like that very well. It was the same expression he himself had worn in the past, when he was filled with the pride of fighting for his country. The memory of his youth, when he was afraid of battle but confident that he would not regret it even if he died.
Lee put away the binoculars, took a small mirror from his pocket, and looked at his own eyes. Where had that soldier of conviction gone? The eyes looking back at him from the mirror were those of a coward, unable to make a single decision. People who, despite their status as slaves, had risen up on their own and stood there with the resolve to throw away their lives. And himself, a man who dealt in slaves yet refused to make decisions and had been running away to the rear all along. Who, indeed, was the strong one and who was the weak one?
Of course, if he gave the order here, most of the blacks standing there would be dead. But would that really be a result where his side won and the other side lost? No. Lee was certain. That would be the path for the human scum known as Robert E. Lee to be recorded in history as an eternal loser.
He glanced to his side and saw James Seuret sitting on his horse, calmly watching the scene.
"Seuret."
"Yes, General."
"What... what do you think when you see them?"
Seuret let out a faint laugh and gave a meaningful answer.
"You should simply follow the path your heart dictates, General."
"...Yes."
Lee closed his eyes. The deliberation was not very long. One, two, three. He counted exactly three seconds, no more, no less, and opened his eyes again.
"I command the entire army."
Unlike yesterday, a voice without a single tremor echoed across the field.
"Retreat. Withdraw the army immediately."
"Ex-excuse me?"
The officers looked at him with bewildered expressions, but Lee's complexion was perfectly calm.
"Send a messenger to the Union Army. Tell them we will surrender on the condition that our personal safety is guaranteed."
"B-but General! Then the South will..."
"I am a soldier of the Union who protects its citizens."
In truth, the decision he had to make had been set from the beginning. He had simply been avoiding it because he was afraid to face the consequences. "I have never been taught to aim weapons at those who were born and raised in this country."
Most of the officers kept their mouths shut, but it was impossible for everyone to be happy about turning their backs and retreating in front of the blacks. A young officer shouted as if he could not understand.
"But General! They aren't citizens, they're just blacks!"
"If that is what you think, then you take command."
"...Excuse me?"
"Can you give the order to fire? Not at anything else, but at that crowd who only asks to be treated as human beings?"
His lips trembled, but no answer came out.
"But... if we withdraw the army here, we become traitors too."
"Better to be a traitor while remaining a human than to give up on being a human."
When he thought about it, the conclusion was so obvious, why had he been agonizing over it so much? No further questions were needed, so he turned his back without a word.
"Seuret."
"Yes, General."
"If I do this... do I become a traitor, just as that fellow said?"
Honestly, there was still a tiny, dust-sized amount of hesitation left, but Seuret let out a scoff that wiped it all away cleanly.
"A traitor? The country called the Confederate States of America was never a nation to begin with."
...Huh?
Lee, who had hesitated at the unexpected remark, soon burst into loud laughter.
"Hahaha! That's right, exactly!"
How could a traitor exist in a mere club that wasn't even a nation from the start? The Confederate States itself had been one giant traitor from the beginning. He could hear the soldiers behind him following one by one. And from far behind his back, cheers began to erupt. The sound of the people in the fields cheering with tears in their eyes as they saw the Confederate Army turning back rang in his ears.
Lee turned his head for just a brief moment to glance at the scene. It was too late, but he was relieved that he had not made the wrong choice. Thus, the great Southern commander Robert E. Lee pronounced the death sentence on the Confederate States with his own hands, and the food supply to the Confederate Army was cut off completely from this moment on.
He did not know how future historians and the people of his homeland would judge him, but he had no regrets. Because this was the only choice he could have made. Robert E. Lee felt a sense of relief like never before.