The men of the Iron Brigade nodded. 'Texas, ain't you? You're good men."

The reb nodded and moved on.

And so the column crossed over the bridge, dust rising up as the hours passed, a rider astride a gray horse at the fore, followed by a single flag disappearing from view, marching into the realm of legend.

Richmond, Virginia The Confederate Capitol September 10, 1863 Gen. Robert E. Lee dismounted from Traveler, returning the salute of the men lined up in division strength to either side of the road. He was dressed in his formal uniform, sword at his side. The men saluting him were a mixture of troops from several of his old divisions, mostly Virginian boys.

Out on the front lawn before the old state legislature building of Virginia, now the capitol building of the Confederacy, thousands of civilians had gathered, and an ovation went up at the sight of him walking up the steps.

Many of his old comrades were already waiting for him, Pete Longstreet, A. P. Hill, who seemed, at the moment, to be recovering from the illness that had taken him out of the last campaign, and Judah Benjamin.

Judah stepped forward to shake his hand. "Did he do it?" Judah asked. "You mean the president?" "Yes, of course I mean the president." "Yes, he did. And I think you know what I shall say now." Lee walked into the legislative hall, which was packed to overflowing with members of the Confederate Congress and the Senate. A ripple of applause broke out at the sight of him and turned into a standing ovation. He said nothing, merely nodding and stepping to one side of the door.

There was one person still missing.

Several minutes passed in silence until again there was cheering outside.

The sergeant at arms came to attention and banged his staff on the floor.

"Honorable members of Congress. The president of the Confederate States of America."

Jefferson Davis walked in, and after a brief applause the room fell silent. The tension was electric as the members of Congress looked from Davis to Lee and back to Davis, wondering what had transpired in their meeting of an hour ago. Not just Richmond, but the entire South was waiting, citizens as far off as Savannah, Mobile, beleaguered Atlanta, standing before telegraph stations.

The Speaker of the House took the podium and called for order and then without flourish or ceremony simply announced, "Gen. Robert E. Lee."

Lee took a deep breath, looked over at Judah, who nodded, and walked up to the podium, turned, and faced his audience.

"President Davis," General Lee began, nodding toward President Jefferson Davis, sitting in the back of the room, "members of the Congress of the Confederacy and members of the president's cabinet, fellow citizens.

"I have come here to report on the military situation of our Confederacy. I speak not as a politician but as a military man. My facts are the facts of war, not the hopes of politics and civilian speeches."

The crowd began to straighten up and watch carefully at these unexpected words and the sober, indeed somber, tone of Lee's words.

He paused for a moment.

"This morning I met with President Davis to discuss those facts. As a serving military officer I am honor bound to obey the orders of the commander in chief."

Again a pause and he lowered his head, then, realizing that what he had to say required him to look Davis straight in. the eye, he stiffened, features grave.

"But this morning I have refused the orders of President Davis and have no recourse but to resign from the service of the Confederacy."

Davis, red-faced, glared at him.

Lee knew the gesture was melodramatic, but Judah and Pete Longstreet had both told him he had to do this symbolic move to reinforce his point. He stepped back a foot from the podium, drew out his sword, and laid it upon the podium.

"I resign from service and shall return to private life."

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then the audience erupted. Some cheered, but there was also cries of "No, never!" and even a few who cried, 'Traitor!"

He waited for the audience to fall silent, obviously not yet done speaking.

"I shall speak to you now, not as a general, but as a private citizen and shall say what I could not say before when I still carried a sword by my side pledged to this government."

The room fell into a tomblike silence.

"This morning I met with President Davis and offered my formal report on the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia and the signed agreement between myself and General Grant.

"President Davis ordered me to violate the terms of that surrender."

There was a low murmuring in the room. All knew what the issue was, and now they would hear of it directly from Lee.

"The president ordered me to violate the terms of parole and return myself and all my troops to active service. He stated that President Lincoln had violated the rules of war by the ending of the exchange of prisoners and therefore I could break the oath I gave to General Grant.

"I cannot, I will not, accept that. I signed a fair and generous agreement with General Grant with full knowledge of the terms. To order me to go back on my word is a violation of a code of honor that has guided my entire life.

"I have resigned. I suggest to all my fellow officers who were with me at the surrender to do the same. I shall inform my gallant and honorable men in the ranks, who stand arrayed outside this building, to refuse any order to return to the ranks as well." 'Traitor!"

It was a lone voice, a congressman from South Carolina, and several joined in, but those around the protesters shouted for silence.

"With my refusal and that of my officers and men to violate a sacred oath, given to an honorable foe, the simple fact now confronts you, the civilian government, that we no longer have the military capacity to stop the Union army."

The crowd gasped and men began to fidget in their seats. Some of the hotheads began to say something but realized this was General Lee speaking, and their respect for him stilled their voices.

"General Grant and President Lincoln"-at the very sound of his name the room turned frigid-"have both treated the Army of Northern Virginia with honor and with dignity."

To the restive members of the audience he interjected, "I was there, gentlemen. I am reporting on facts, not wishes; events, not fantasies."

He went on. "As I just stated, this morning President Davis ordered me to take the field once again to save our capital. I cannot.

"As a matter of honor I have given my word before God that I would accept parole and understood when I accepted it that I would not be exchanged and therefore am out of the war.

"I gave my word for the entire Army of Northern Virginia serving with me.

"Now let me address the second issue, which is simply that of practicality and reality. I surrendered, and now urge this entire government to surrender, because to not do so will guarantee the needless killing of thousands of our young men in a situation in which we have no hope of winning against overwhelming Union forces."

"Hell, no!" someone shouted. "We'll fight the damn Yankees to the death."

Lee's features reddened and he stared at the senator who had challenged him.

"Whose death? I have seen tens of thousands die. In war, always it is the old men such as we who create it, but it is the young who must do the dying."

"How dare you, sir," came the reply.

"I dare because I must," Lee retorted. "There is no Confederate army capable of defending Richmond. We lost our artillery and our ammunition trains north of the Potomac. There is no possibility of stopping General Grant and his forces. President Lincoln offered us an armistice of thirty days. Seven of those days have now passed, and I tell you this without embellishment. On October 3, if we do not surrender, Grant will cross the Rappahannock in force, and Sherman will resume his attack on Atlanta… and devastation will follow.