The Civil War Trilogy: Gods and Generals / The Killer Angels / The Last Full Measure
Michael Shaara, Jeff Shaara
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Michael Shaara reinvented the war novel with his Pulitzer Prize–winning masterpiece of Gettysburg, The Killer Angels. Jeff Shaara continued his father’s legacy with a series of centuries-spanning New York Times bestsellers. This volume assembles three Civil War novels from America’s first family of military fiction: Gods and Generals, The Killer Angels, and The Last Full Measure.
Gods and Generals traces the lives, passions, and careers of the great military leaders—Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, Winfield Scott Hancock, Joshua Chamberlain—from the gathering clouds of war. The Killer Angels re-creates the fight for America’s destiny in the Battle of Gettysburg, the four most bloody and courageous days of our nation’s history. And The Last Full Measure brings to life the final two years of the Civil War, chasing the escalating conflict between Robert E. Lee and Ulysses S. Grant—complicated, heroic, and deeply troubled men—through to its riveting conclusion at Appomattox.
Praise for Michael Shaara and Jeff Shaara’s Civil War trilogy
“Brilliant does not even begin to describe the Shaara gift.”—The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“Shaara’s beautifully sensitive novel delves deeply in the empathetic realm of psycho-history, where enemies do not exist—just mortal men forced to make crucial decisions and survive on the same battlefield.”—San Francisco Chronicle, on Gods and Generals
“Remarkable . . . a book that changed my life . . . I had never visited Gettysburg, knew almost nothing about that battle before I read the book, but here it all came alive.”—Ken Burns, on The Killer Angels
“The Last Full Measure is more than another historical novel. It is rooted in history, but its strength is the element of humanity flowing through its characters. . . . The book is compelling, easy to read, well researched and written, and thought-provoking. . . . In short, it is everything that a reader could ask for.”—Chicago Tribune
the lines, saw a huge fire. There were few big fires now, there was no wood left, the trees and fences long gone. The men had formed details, hauling firewood over the rough country roads from farther and farther away. As the army sat in one place, it pulled at the country like some great dirty sponge, soaking up a widening circle of food and fuel. The big fire was slowing, and the men saw him coming now, more cheers, and now he saw it had been a wagon; one spoke wheel leaned crookedly from the
tried to stand again, and there was no feeling in his legs. He rolled to the side, sat, thought, So, God is with Stonewall after all. If he cannot command, then it is not to be me. He looked at the faces around him, said, “The command of the Second Corps should pass now to General Rodes. But General Lee would not place him in that position, he does not have the experience. Captain Adams . . .” The man bent over, said, “Yes, sir, what can I do, sir?” “Take a message to General Stuart, he is up
General, this is your fight now.” Longstreet saluted, said, “General, with your permission …” Lee returned the salute, and Longstreet spurred the horse, moved across the road, the staff following him down into the deadly brush. HANCOCK’S FORWARD THRUST HAD BEEN BOGGED DOWN NOT JUST by Poague’s guns, or the thin defense of Hill’s unprepared men, but by the ground, by the men’s own motion. As the lines went forward, they lost their connection to units beside them, there was little they could do
see the enemy, and you feel alone, or even afraid, then look again, now, at the man beside you. Know that he is there, and the man beside him, and the men all down the line, that what you do today may be the one great effort, the last full measure that God requires of us, to break this unholy rebellion.” Men began to cheer again, and the regimental flags began to move forward. He saw the officers step out in front, saw Coogan now, with the brigade colors, and Coogan nodded, looked at the ground
Mira said, “Fort Sumter?” “South Carolina . . . Charleston harbor.” Hancock read further, scanning the words. The room began to fill with a thick silence, and after a long minute he put the paper down and said to Mira, “They’ve done it. The southern states have started a war. Major Anderson . . . held his ground, wouldn’t surrender the fort . . . so they shelled it.” Armistead stopped reading. “It says no one was killed, no casualties.” “Does it matter?” “It might. There could still be a way