Lee raised a hand. “General Pickett, I want you to reform your Division in the rear of this hill.”
Pickett’s eyes lighted as if a sudden pain had shot through him. He started to cry. Lee said again with absolute calm, “General, you must look to your Division.”
Pickett said tearfully, voice of a bewildered angry boy, “General Lee, I have no Division.” He pointed back down the hill, jabbing at the blowing smoke, the valley of a wrecked men, turned and shuddered, waving then saying “Sir?What about my men?” as if even now there was still something Lee could do to fix it. “What about my men? Armistead is gone. Garnett is gone. Kemper is gone.All my colonels are gone. General, every one . Most of my men are gone. Good God, sir, what about my men?”
What about my men?
The Killer Angels, by Michael Shaara, pg. 354