Grant Comes East

Chapter Ten

Near Leesborough, Maryland

July 20, 1863 2:00 p.m.

The last of the storm was passing to the southeast, dark clouds bristling with lightning. Stepping down off the porch of a pleasant frame house whose owner had offered him coffee and biscuits while waiting out the blow, Lee stretched, looking around, breathing deeply of the cool fresh air that came sweeping down out of the northwest.

After three weeks of unrelenting heat, humidity, and rain, he could feel that the weather had indeed changed, that this last blow had swept the air clean. The rain had come down in torrential sheets for a half hour, swamping the road, but now, as a column of men from Pickett's division were filing out of the woods where they had sought temporary shelter from the blast, he could see their renewed vigor. The temperature had dropped a good fifteen to twenty degrees, the air was crystal clear, sharp, a pleasure to breathe. It sent an infectious mood through the men, who were joking, laughing, splashing around in rain-soaked uniforms, boots tied around their necks. For a few minutes they seemed almost like schoolboys again.

He mounted Traveler, staff falling in around him. He waited patiently for President Davis and Secretary Benjamin to come out of the house, the two climbing into an open four-horse carriage that had been "borrowed" from a wealthy landowner near where they had camped the night before. The owner was furious about the requisitioning until he heard who would be using the carriage, then simply asked for a receipt, along with an affidavit to be given back with the carriage, confirming who had ridden in it. It was obvious he planned to make a commercial venture out of the carriage when it was finally returned.

Lee edged out onto the road, Traveler kicking up muddy splashes. Behind him the lead brigade of Pickett's division, Armistead's men, were forming up. Turning, he headed north, the road clear for several hundred yards ahead. His staff, the headquarters wagon, and the president's carriage followed. With Taylor and his guidon-bearer just behind him, he urged Traveler to a slow canter, enjoying the ride, the cooling breeze, a shower of heavy droplets cascading down around him as he rode under a spread of elm trees that canopied the road. Reaching a gentle crest he saw the village of Leesborough, a small, prosperous community with several stores, a couple of dozen homes, rich farmland surrounding it. The winter wheat had been brought in, but the orchards, especially the peach orchards, had been severely damaged by the passing army, nearly every tree plucked clean. Fences were broken down and gone as well, wet circles of ashes and partially burned wet wood marking where men had camped the night before.

At the intersection with the Rockville Pike in the center of town a regimental band stood, playing patriotic airs. A spotter for the band, having seen the approaching cavalcade of the army headquarters and the president, was running back to the center of town, waving his arms.

Lee slowed, looking over at Walter.

"It's good for morale," Walter said with a smile.

Lee nodded and waited, letting his staff ride on, then edging back on to the road alongside the presidential carriage.

"It's turned into a lovely day," Benjamin announced, gesturing to the sparkling blue sky overhead.

"That it has, sir. By evening the roads should dry out a little, and hopefully tomorrow we'll make good time."

Up ahead the band struck up "Bonnie Blue Flag," and a cheer rose, a regiment that had been coming down the road from Rockville stopping, men spilling out of column to swarm behind the band.

Lee said nothing, though this would play havoc with the marching order, stalling the troops farther up the road, but it couldn't be helped now. Besides, Walter was right. They needed a boost after the misery and frustration of the last week.

The reporters traveling with Davis were off their mounts, notebooks out; one of them produced a large sketch pad and, with charcoal stick in hand, began to furiously scratch at his paper.

Lee fell in behind the carriage, Walter at his side, as they rode into the small village. Cheer upon cheer greeted them. From the rear, Armistead's men were splashing through the mud, coming up on the double to take part in the show, slowing at a respectful distance, breaking ranks, holding caps in the air, and yelling.

Davis, obviously pleased, ordered the carriage to stop in the middle of the intersection and stood up. Lee reined in behind him, and troops from the two columns edged closer, yelling and waving. Davis held his hands out and the men fell silent.

"Gallant soldiers of the Confederacy. I salute you!"

Another roar went up, the roads now clogged with men breaking ranks, pushing in closer.

"You, the victors of Union Mills, have crowned your reputation with undying glory. You march now to yet a greater victory. A victory that shall soon end this war. And then, as conquering heroes you can return to your homes and loved ones, where you shall be forever honored for what you did here."

Yet more cheers greeted this statement. General Longstreet approached the edge of the crowd from the west, coming down the Rockville Road. He pushed his mount through the crowd, falling in alongside of Lee, saying nothing, but his gaze was anything but happy over this disruption. Lee smiled softly and said nothing.

"I have a request of our wonderful band," Davis cried.

The bandmaster saluted with his staff.

"An honor, sir. What do you request?"

"In honor of our gallant friends, who even now are rallying to the cause of Southern freedom, I would appreciate hearing 'Maryland My Maryland.'"

The bandmaster turned with a flourish, passed the command, instruments were raised, and the band began to play. It was obvious after several measures that they were not as well practiced with this tune. Davis stood solemn, listening, ignoring the more than occasional off-key notes. The newspaper artist, standing on a porch, sketched away furiously.

The band finished. Davis was about to continue to speak but Longstreet, with less than the required diplomacy and politeness, loudly cleared his throat. Davis looked out of the corner of his eye toward Old Pete and then Lee.

"Perhaps our gallant General Lee would care to address you," Davis offered, pointing toward him.

More cheers erupted, and under the cover of the noise Lee moved to the side of the carriage.

"Sir, I think General Longstreet was reminding us that we have an army on the march and this crossroads needs to be cleared if we are to continue."

Davis flushed slightly but then nodded. Benjamin, obviously enjoying himself, just smiled and said nothing.

Davis extended his hand again; the men fell silent.

"God bless and keep all of you." He sat back down and told the driver to move on. The driver hesitated and looked at Lee, obviously not sure of what direction to take.

"North," Walter said, and with a crack of reins the carriage passed through the crossroads, escorts arid guards galloping ahead.

Longstreet turned to a provost guard standing mud-splattered in the middle of the road.

"Clear the rest of this division from Rockville," Pete said angrily, pointing back to the west. "Then, have General Pickett file in behind it."

The provost saluted and started to turn.

"And tell that damn silly band they can play but get the hell off the street, move them out of the way."

Anxiously, the provost saluted again and ran off, shouting orders.

"Shouldn't be too hard on them today," Lee said. Longstreet shook his head.

"The roads are still a mess and we're funneling not just my corps, but Hood's as well through here. That little demonstration tied things up for a mile in each direction."

"Still, the men needed it and so did the president."

"Sorry, sir. I think once we're clear of here, I'll feel better again."

"I know. I feel the same way. It was a bitter march to here and a bitter defeat, but now we are moving again, doing what we do best."

He could again see the movements on the map engraved in his mind's eye. The army was reduced to but six divisions, and all of those were under strength to varying levels. Longstreet, with four divisions, Pickett, who was coming up even now, McLaws, who was behind Pickett, Johnson, and Doles, commanding the division coming down from Rockville, formerly Rhodes's division (Rhodes died in the final moments at Union Mills), were to push on toward Baltimore until twilight Once they had cleared Leesborough, Hood would follow, leading Early's tough veterans and Robertson, who was now in command of Hood's old division. Hood's corps would turn east from here, move to Beltsville astride the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, turn north, then east again to Annapolis.

The shattered remains of Perrin's and Pettigrew's divisions would stay behind just north of Fort Stevens as they were being reorganized into a single division under Scales.

Stuart's command was being split up as well. Half his strength was to shadow Washington, probe, demonstrate. The other half was to sweep north up the two lines of advance, cutting telegraph lines and securing the way clear up to the outskirts of Baltimore and Annapolis.

He looked back up at the sky. If the weather should hold like this, sunny with a dry, cool evening, by midmorning tomorrow the roads should be dry enough to swing his massive artillery reserve, usable guns captured at Union Mills, and his regular artillery train on to the roads as well. He could have them in position to bombard Baltimore's defenses by nightfall.

The march would be a leisurely one, only thirty miles in two days, nothing at all like the blistering pace of the previous campaign. Officers had been told not to push the men hard, keep a standard pace of two miles to the hour, with ten-minute breaks. Forage parties were to move ahead and, following proper custom, offer payment vouchers for any supplies taken. His general order of the previous evening had emphasized that yet again. They were here to entice Maryland into the Confederacy, not to come at bayonet point, strip away its rights, and then rob it, as the Yankees had done throughout Virginia.

He hoped that Baltimore could actually be taken without a fight. Once his lead division was in place, a message would be sent in to the mayor offering full protection to the city if the civil authorities would surrender without a fight. He knew the army garrison would most likely refuse, but directing his appeal to the civilians might help win their support when they pushed in.

The band, now standing in a field at the edge of the village, broke into a cheery polka. Longstreet looked over at them with displeasure.

"Rather see them carrying rifles. Better use of those men than their tooting away like that; they can't even carry a tune."

"They're hospital orderlies when the fight is on," Lee said soothingly, "and besides, the men do like them." Longstreet shook his head.

"I'm going to push on, sir, move up to the head of the column. My staff will be back here to keep an eye on the crossroads."

"I'll ride with you then, General Longstreet." "A pleasure, sir."

He looked over at Longstreet and felt a surge of approval. Old Pete was now the aggressive one. The victory at Union

Mills, with praise heaped upon him for the brilliance of the flanking march throughout the South, was overshadowing the legend of Jackson at Chancellorsville. This last campaign had transformed the man. He was more confident, aggressive in movement, hard-driving the way Jackson had been.

Hood would still bear watching. Like Ewell and Hill before him, he was new to corps command. He was a brilliant division commander in the field, but his fumbling before Fort Stevens, though by no means entirely his fault, meant he was still not up to corps command. Lee had given him the Annapolis assignment for two simple reasons. First was the route of march. He wanted Pete's greater striking power to hit that major city. Pete had to clear the road up here to Lees-borough before Hood could even begin to move. Hood's actual fighting strength was barely half that of Longstreet's, with two of his remaining divisions under strength and a third division detailed off to Virginia. His Fourth and Fifth divisions, Pettigrew and Perrin, were being left behind for now. Annapolis was obviously suitable for Hood's smaller formation.

The second reason was that it would give Hood a chance at a semidetached command in an operation that was not all that crucial. If he won, it would reinforce his confidence and serve as a good test If he failed, it would reveal his faults, which, if serious enough, would mean he would have to be relieved; yet such a defeat in and of itself would not be a threatening or terrible blow.

The two generals rode on, the day an absolute delight. An actual coolness was in the air as the last vestiges of the storm raced south-eastward, the trees swaying, leaves rustling in the breeze. The fence rails flanking the road were piled high with weeds and honeysuckle. The pastures beyond, though empty of cattle and horses, were rich, the tall grass flattening down before the wind.

Several children were sitting atop a fence, wide-eyed as they approached. One of the boys, standing, balanced himself, saluting. Smiling, Lee saluted back. Two girls, giggling and blushing, stood at the gate to a farmhouse, both of them waving National Flags of the Confederacy. This time Long-street tipped his hat, as did Lee. An infantryman, sitting on the side of the road, barefoot, nursing what looked to be a broken ankle, looked up balefully as the two approached.

"Sorry I can't stand and salute, sirs; it's broke. Fell out of a tree picking peaches."

"An ambulance will be along to see to you," Lee said in a kindly voice. "But next time, son, don't go foraging like that Take it as a lesson."

"Give it to 'em in Baltimore, sir," the boy shouted as they continued on.

"They weren't supposed to know where we were heading," Longstreet said, apologizing.

"No matter, any man who knows his geography can figure it out now. If we'd turned west at the Rockville Road, it would've meant western Maryland or back to Virginia. That's why their spirits are up; they know we're not retreating."

He caught a glimpse of the president's carriage just ahead around a gentle turn in the road, guards trailing behind.

He slowed his own pace, not wanting to catch up quite yet

"Strange to have him marching with the army," Pete said. "To be expected now."

"I could tell he wanted Washington. In fact, he assumed he could ride straight in."

"God willed differently."

"I don't think he likes God's will," Pete replied.

Lee did not respond to what could be considered to verge on blasphemy.

"Frankly, I wish he had stayed back till we finished the job," Longstreet persevered.

"I will admit the thought," Lee replied. "However, Mr. Benjamin's arguments for taking Baltimore were cogent and persuasive."

"It's just that we should be clear to do our job without someone second-guessing our decisions, or, for that matter, countermanding them."

"I don't think the president will do that. He is an old military man himself, remember. He will stay back and only observe. He'll leave the job to us."

"I hope so, sir."

"Let's not be troubled by it now," Lee replied soothingly. Catching up to the rear of the president's cavalcade, Lee reined in, and returned Old Pete's salute as his second in command spurred his mount and continued on.

It was a most pleasant day, and for the moment he rode alone, glad to not be noticed, glad to just enjoy the cool, windswept afternoon.

Port Deposit, Maryland

My 20,1863 6:45 p.m.

The train glided into the station, bell ringing and whistle shrieking. A full brigade, his old Excelsior, was drawn up along the siding to greet him. Though standing at attention, the men let out a tumultuous roar of approval as he stepped out on to the back platform, eyes sparkling with delight.

Gen. Dan Sickles had returned to his beloved Army of the Potomac.

The brigade broke ranks, swarming around the train. Grinning, he waved for them to gather in, ignoring this breach of discipline. Scarred battle flags were held aloft and waved overhead, the cool evening breeze rushing down the Susquehanna Valley causing them to snap and flutter. He held up his hands for them to be silent, but the cheering continued, climaxing with a rousing three cheers for "Old Dan!"

Finally they fell silent, looking up at him, some with visible tears in their eyes.

"My comrades, my friends," he began, and for a moment his voice choked, so he lowered his head. A bit of it was required melodrama, but in his heart, it was real as well. These were the men he had recruited back in sixty-one, and how few of them remained. How many ghosts now stood around them. He truly loved this brigade, and he would see that now it was done right, that they would be led to the victory they deserved. He raised his head again.

"As you know, yesterday I was appointed to command of the Army of the Potomac."

Again three cheers greeted him and he basked in the glow of it.

"And yet I must now ask. Where is the Army of the Potomac?"

His words were greeted with silence, many of the men standing stock-still, some lowering their heads.

"Where are our gallant comrades of the old reliable First Corps? Our brothers of the Second Corps, who we watched go bravely forward at Union Mills? The men of the Fifth? The Eleventh, which, better served, could have shown their mettle, and the Twelfth, who valiantly charged on that terrible Fourth of July. Where are they?"

No one spoke.

"You and I would willingly give our lives for that dear old flag," and he pointed toward one of the national colors, a regimental flag, torn, battered, stained.

"We would do so without hesitation if we knew that our lifeblood would nourish it, protect it, and cause it to be raised high in final victory. That we would not hesitate to do!"

A ripple of comments greeted him, but no cheers. These were veterans who had seen far too much.

"Perhaps, my comrades, you and I are fated to fall, but here and now, I promise you this, I promise you that if that should be our fate, it shall happen as we charge forward to our final victory against the traitors and not ignominious defeat and withdrawal as we have seen too often in our past!"

The men looked up at him, nodding in agreement.

"For too long our beloved Army of the Potomac has borne the weight of generals' follies upon its shoulders. And I tell you this plainly. I stand here to declare, before the entire world, that the fighting men of our gallant army have never lost a battle!"

For a moment there was confusion over his words. For, after all, what of Chancellorsville, of Union Mills? And then the meaning of what he said was realized and a deep, throaty roar of approval greeted him.

"You, my dear comrades, have never lost a fight It is others that lost it for you. Those of you who stood with me at Gettysburg, who marched across that field on the morning of July second, who saw the chance for ultimate victory, and then saw it torn so basely out of our hands when we were ordered to pull back, you know what I mean and you know who lost it!"

The men looked at him, stunned. Never had a general spoken so plainly to them, spoken the very words they had snared around the campfires and on the march. Their cries now knew no bounds, as if the frustration and rage of the previous two years were at last given vent. He let them roar for more than a minute, then held his hands up again.

‘I promise you this. The Army of the Potomac even now is forming its ranks again. Those who are left, our old brothers from other corps, who cut their way out of the debacle, even now are rallying back to our side. The vacant ranks will indeed be filled.

"And I promise you this as well. Soon, far sooner than many ever dreamed of, we shall march forth. This time no one will hold you back, because I will be in the fore as your commander. There shall be no hesitation. No doubting. No stab in the back.

"We will show the world, we will show the North and the South, we will show all those who ever dared to doubt us, that the Army of the Potomac will drive the enemy before it, not just back to Richmond, but clear down to the Gulf of Mexico. And upon your heads shall be crowned the laurels of the final victory!"

He finished his words with a flourish, arms held wide, and the men went wild, hats in the air, the cheering breaking into a steady chant…

"Sickles … Sickles … Sickles!"

He stepped down off the train. Staff officers were waiting for him, including Meade's old chief of staff", Dan Butterfield, who looked at him coldly. Sykes was there as well, as was Howard of the Eleventh Corps, whose gaze was icy. Sedgwick was nowhere to be found. He had already been relieved.

Butterfield pointed the way toward the station. Sickles was glad to see his surviving division commanders waiting for him at the doorway to the station. He paused, looking out over the expanse of the Susquehanna. Ferries for bearing entire trains were docked on the north side, as were tugs, lighters, and barges. Half a dozen small gunboats and ironclads were drawn up in mid-river, pennants fluttering in the stiff evening breeze, the broad expanse of the river covered in whitecaps.

He walked into the station, the other officers crowding in, one of his staff closing the door. Without preamble he turned to Butterfield.

"Your report, sir."

"Which report, sir?" Butterfield replied coolly. "The current status of the Army of the Potomac." Butterfield looked around the room, like a man on the docket.

"Sir. I have the returns and after-action reports from all surviving units," and he pointed to a leather-bound case on the table in the middle of the room.

"In your own words, and briefly."

"The only viable fighting units left are your corps and the Fifth Corps with a strength of less than forty per cent, the Sixth Corps with about the same numbers, and the Eleventh Corps at fifty per cent. It is my advice that the First, Second, and Twelfth Corps be disbanded, the men consolidated into other units.

"We have less than eighty guns that are serviceable; nearly the entire Artillery Reserve was captured. Of cavalry, we still are not sure, but I would say less than forty per cent are effective. Your total strength therefore is at approximately forty thousand men, that is for all three branches under arms.

"As for support services, we have none. Our entire baggage train is gone, medical supplies all but gone, along with every ambulance. Specialized units, such as pontoon trains, engineering, they are gone, too."

Sickles nodded, his gaze cold, unwavering, as he struck a match and puffed a cigar to life.

"Thank you, General Butterfield. I will read your reports tonight. You are relieved from duty, sir."

"General?"

"Just that, You'll have new orders in the morning. Hold yourself available for a briefing with my new chief of staff later this evening. Good day, General Butterfield."

Butterfield looked at him without comment, eyes narrow, features flushed.

"Yes, sir," he finally snapped. Saluting, he turned on his heels and walked out, slamming the door.

Dan looked around the room, his gaze fixing on Howard.

"You, General Howard, are relieved. Thank you for your service. You as well will receive new orders in the morning."

"On whose authority?" Howard replied softly, speaking each word slowly.

"On my orders."

"I understood that General Grant is now the commander of all forces in the field. The decisions regarding who shall command corps must therefore be in his realm."

"I am commander of the Army of the Potomac now. You are under my authority, and by that authority I am relieving you. You have a choice now. You can take that removal with my blessing, thanks, and recommendation for further posting. Or you can choose to fight me. But by God, sir, if you try to defy me, I will destroy you. You failed your men at Chancellorsville and failed them again at Gettysburg. I wouldn't give you a regiment after that, but perhaps the War Department will see it differently."

"How dare you?" Howard's features were flushed, eyes wide, his one hand resting on the table, drawn up in a fist.

"How dare I? Easy. I am now in charge here. That's how I dare. Now we can do this as gentlemen or we can do it another way."

"You, sir, are no gentleman."

"You're damn right I'm not," Sickles roared. "I'm sick to death of all this damned talk about gentlemen while those good soldiers outside die in the mud. To hell with gentlemen, sir, and to hell with you if you don't obey my orders now!"

Howard drew his balled fist up and slammed it on the table.

"You are a reckless amateur. You think you know how to fight Lee. Maybe so, but I truly doubt it. I daresay it was luck more than anything else that got you as far as you have. Luck and politics of the lowest sort. God save this army with you in command."

"You are relieved, General Howard," Dan said coldly, stepping toward Howard so that his old division commanders moved to his side, ready to restrain him.

Howard looked around the room.

"God save us all if this type of base man is the one that we feel can lead us to victory."

Howard stepped past Dan and went to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned and looked back.

"God forgive me for saying this. But with a man such as you, a man who would gun down your wife's lover on the street while he was unarmed? And now you are in command? I think it is time I do retire."

"God damn you!" Sickles roared, turning, fists raised.

Staff gathered around him, holding him back as Howard gazed at him coldly, waiting several seconds as if ready to accept the challenge to a fistfight or a duel. Finally he opened the door and left.

All were in stunned silence as Sickles, breathing hard, was pushed to the far corner of the room by his staff. He struggled for composure. No one in this army had ever dared to fling that at him. In any other position he would have challenged Howard to a duel on the spot, but now he knew he could not. One of his men drew out a flask, and, angrily, he shook his head, returning back to the table. Sykes stood silent, watching him.

"And am I to be sacked, too?" Sykes asked.

"Hell, no," Dan growled. "You, sir, put up one hell of a fight. The type of fight I want to see. By God, if I had been allowed to march to your aid at Taneytown, we'd have finished Lee then and there."

"I'm not sure of that, General Sickles."

"I am. You are a fighting general, like me. I respect you, General Sykes, and forgive me for what had to be done here."

Sykes said nothing and Dan smiled.

"I want this army ready to march within the month," Dan said, "and your corps will play a leading role."

"In a month? I would think it will not be until fall before we can even hope to have things reorganized. Beyond our loss of men, over half our brigade, division, and corps commanders fell in the last fight or were captured. The army is a shambles, sir."

"Not for long," Dan said. "And besides, some of those generals are no real loss as far as I'm concerned. I will fill the vacant slots and then we shall see how they fight."

He drew out a sheaf of papers from the haversack at his side and tossed them on the table.

"On the train ride down here I've been drawing up the reorganization. The First and Second Corps, God bless them, will unfortunately have to be disbanded. The men will be consolidated into my old corps and yours. The men of the Eleventh and Twelfth will be organized around the Sixth Corps. After its streak of hard luck, the Eleventh must be disbanded. We had too many corps in this army anyhow, some barely more than the size of one of Lee's divisions. We were cumbersome, slow to move and act. We'll take that leaf from Bobbie Lee's book and use it. It will be a more effective command structure, fast-acting and — moving. We were cumbersome in weight as well. The loss of the Artillery Reserve was a terrible blow, but we can live with it"

He paused and looked over at Henry Hunt, who stood in the corner of the room.

"I have no complaint against you, Hunt But the artillery reserve is finished. All artillery is to be operational at the corps level with only a small reserve left under my direct command. Do you have any objections?"

Hunt shook his head slowly.

"Sir, I think we should talk about this later."

"I assumed that's how you would feel, Hunt. No insult to you but I feel that General Grant, if he ever arrives and builds an army, will need a good artilleryman to advise him. Would you care to be transferred?"

Hunt was silent for a moment and then wearily lowered his head.

"Yes, sir, if there is no Artillery Reserve I no longer see a role for me here."

"Fine then, Hunt, report to my headquarters in the morning and I'll see what I can do for you."

Glad to be rid of that minor detail, Dan turned back to the rest of the gathering without waiting to hear Hunt's reply.

"We have a lot of work cut out for ourselves, gentlemen. First I want the Army of the Potomac concentrated here. There is to be no siphoning off of units into the command that Grant is supposedly trying to form up at Harrisburg. I repeat, that is final, not one man wearing the corps insignia of our gallant old army is to be taken. As we get the lightly wounded and missing back into our ranks, they will rejoin their old regiments.

"For the morale of the men, even though four of the corps are to be disbanded, they will retain their old corps badges. Regiments are to be consolidated into new regiments from their home states and will retain their colors. I know these men, and those badges and their flags are sources of pride that must be honored by us."

The men gathered around him nodded with approval.

"I want the best damn rations down here now. None of this hardtack and salt pork while we are in camp. I want good, clean field kitchens; I want fresh food; I don't care how we get it, but I want it. The men are to have fresh bread daily, all they can eat, fresh meat on the hoof; by God we have the transportation here with the railroads and rivers, and I want it. Nothing is to be spared.

"One out of every ten men from each regiment is to be granted two weeks' furlough. Three weeks for our regiments from the Midwest. The enlisted men of each regiment will select among themselves who receives these furloughs. For every recruit they bring back from home their company will be given a cash bonus of fifty dollars, the men of the company to spend it as they see fit."

"Where are we going to get that kind of money, sir?" one of the staff asked.

"Don't worry about it. I have friends in the right places. If we bring in five to ten thousand that way, it will be worth it. The new recruits will be men from hometowns standing alongside their neighbors and kin in the next fight, not the riffraff to be found by the draft boards. It will play well with the veterans, who will look after them and teach them the traditions of the Army of the Potomac.

"I want a liquor ration to be given every Saturday night as well. Half a gill of rum or whiskey per man."

"The temperance crowd will scream over that one," someone chuckled.

'To hell with the temperance crowd. These men have been through hell and deserve a touch of liquor. To be certain, it might cause a few problems, but it will bind them to us the stronger.

"I've got more orders as well, regarding sutlers, equipment, outfitting of select regiments with breech-loading rifles, new uniforms, shoes, drill, reviews. We have thirty days to build this army back into a fighting force, and by God we will do it."

No one spoke.

"Fine, then. Staff meeting at eight in the morning."

His tone carried a note of dismissal.

"General Sickles." It was Sykes. "Did you see the latest dispatches from Baltimore?"

"Not since I left Philadelphia just after noon."

"It's reported that Lee is abandoning his position in front of Washington."

"What?"

"Civilian reports only. President Davis is confirmed as being with him. Baltimore and Annapolis are in a panic. It appears that Lee is marching north."

Dan grinned.

"Good! Damn good! My one fear was that he would slink off before we could give him the treatment he deserved."

"Also, General Grant came through here late yesterday and took a courier boat to Washington. There's been no report on him since."

Sickles’s features darkened.

"Who was with him?"

"General Haupt and Congressman Washburne." "Who saw him?"

"Just the guard detail down at the wharf." "Did he ask former'

"No sir, not a word. He got off the train and was on the boat and gone within five minutes." Dan nodded.

With luck, Grant would be ordered to stay in Washington. More than one of his friends would be pulling strings for that even now. If not, it would mean he would return through here. That was worth knowing, and of course Dan would make sure he was unfortunately unavailable when Grant came through. The last thing he needed now was for that man to be interfering in his own plans.

Everything would fall into place in due course, of that he was certain.

Washington, D.C.

July 20,1863 8:00 p.m.

Come in, Elihu," Lincoln said, waving for the congressman to sit down in the seat across from his desk.

Elihu, moving slowly, obviously beaten down with exhaustion, exhaled noisily as he took the seat. Lincoln smiled, stocking feet up on his desk.

"Did you see him off?"

"Yes. Both he and Haupt are on their way. Same courier boat that brought us here."

"And the meeting with Stanton before he left?"

'Tense, to say the least It's obvious Edwin wasn't pleased with how you outmaneuvered him."

Lincoln chuckled softly and shook his head.

"Edwin means well, most of the time. It's just that Grant is not part of his circle. He felt a need to control him."

" 'Means well most of the time'? I do think that Edwin believes he is running the war by himself. He'll try to somehow knock Grant off his tracks."

"One of the advantages of being a city under siege," Lincoln replied. "Communications between us and Harrisburg will be difficult for now. Grant can do as he wishes with my authority behind him."

Lincoln sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"I would have thought that by now we would all see the situation clearly and bury our differences. In the next eight weeks we will either win this war or lose it Gettysburg and Union Mills focused that clearly for me. The crisis has come. We're like the two farmers who hitched two sets of mules to a wagon pointing in opposite directions and then fell into arguing about it for the rest of the day. We've got to get them all pointed in the same direction, with only one driver on top.

"Grant sees that. In the East he will point everything at Lee, and Haupt will give him the means to do it In the West we stand in place on the Mississippi, just hold what we have for the moment Any thoughts of taking Mobile, Charleston, Texas, and Florida are to be abandoned, the men shipped here. The second big effort will be with Rosecrans on Chattanooga and then Atlanta. Once Sherman has consolidated our hold on Vicksburg, he will join Rosecrans and take command. That will be it No other campaigns this summer and fall. Every available man here, to face Lee and no one else. If we lose some gains elsewhere, that will be in the short run.

"Grant understands this new kind of war, Elihu. It's frightful. War is now a machine, a steam-powered juggernaut God save us, in a way, the old image of war did have its appeal, even though boys wound up dying, often in droves. Grant can guide this juggernaut, pushed by a thousand factories and locomotives. It's ghastly, but if in the end it saves this republic, and perhaps scares everyone so badly that we will never see a war here again, then the sacrifices will be worth it"

Lincoln sat back, precariously balanced with feet up on the table so that his chair almost tipped over. He pulled a small paring knife out of his pocket, opened it and went to work on his fingernails.

"And yet the political games still play out," he sighed.

"It's always been that way, sir. We're no different from the Romans, the Greeks. Remember Alcibiades? Even though the city-states knew they were collapsing under the weight of their wars, still Athens worked at cross-purposes with itself and squandered its best generals. We're no different"

"I hoped we could be. I believe we can be," Lincoln said softly. "A fair part of the world, at this moment wishes us to fail. They are praying even now for it, because we represent something different. A belief that the common man is the equal of any king, of any despot of any fanatic claiming mat God is behind him. If we fail now, if we let this continent sink into divided nations that ultimately will fight yet again and divide yet again, then the dream of our forefathers will be for naught."

He shook his head and chuckled self-consciously.

"Sorry for the speech, Elihu."

"I rather like them at times, Mr. President. When they come from the heart they remind me of why I first got into politics."

Lincoln chuckled.

"I wonder at times how many out there believe that idealism did drive some of us to this path. To hear our opponents and the press behind them, one would think that we did it simply to grasp for power and money. I'll be hanged, Elihu, but if I wanted that, I'd have stayed in my practice and charged the railroad companies exorbitant fees."

"It's always that way, sir. When they can't fight you on principles, the only recourse is to smear you or to kill you."

Lincoln said nothing for a moment, slowly nodding his head.

"Do you think Grant will measure up to the job?" Lincoln asked.

"Yes, I do believe he will. His record already indicates that As you asked, I observed him closely the last week. There was no puffing up the way so many would have, like McClellan or Hooker. He took his responsibilities calmly, without pomp or fanfare. You saw that touch of his private's uniform. It wasn't posturing; it's just the man is so simple in that sense that he believes that is how he should dress and behave. I like that."

"So do I."

Lincoln smiled and nodded to his stocking feet on the tabletop.

"Mrs. Lincoln is always telling me that George Washington never would have put his bare feet up on a table, but Elihu, I think he did."

Elihu laughed softly in reply.

"Well, sir, when it comes to George Washington, honestly I can't see him in stocking feet Andy Jackson, of course, but not Washington."

Lincoln smiled.

"Grant's staff, the generals under him, they worship the man," Elihu continued, "but he will tolerate no open displays. As you said, he sees this war as a grim, filthy business. And the quickest way to resolve it is to apply every ounce of strength we have into one terrible blow at the key point. We talked a lot about that He says that war has changed forever. It is now an entire nation, its industry, its strength, applied to the battlefield. He grasps that our strength might not be in terms of certain generals, such as Lee, but rather in an unrelenting combination of manpower and industry. That he sees as the key to victory."

"You like him, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. I remember him from before the war. Poor man, washed up from what had happened to him. We talked several times; he was gentle, quiet, soft-spoken; hard to believe he had been trained as a soldier. I think he was haunted by what he saw in Mexico, and frankly I liked that, in spite of his turning to the bottle as an answer.

"He hates war. He hates the waste and the blood. Someone told me that in one of his first battles in Mexico, a close friend, standing by his side, was decapitated. It has given him nightmares ever since."

Lincoln said nothing.

"There is no talk of glory in this man the way we heard with McClellan, Hooker, Pope, and too many others."

"Will he see it through and not lose his nerve?'

"Sir. The question is more will you see it through?"

Lincoln looked at him quizzically.

"Many of the papers up north are howling. The riot in New York was a near run thing, as were the riots in Cincinnati and Philadelphia. If we lose one more fight like Union Mills, you might be facing a collapse, the Democrats in Congress will call for a meeting with Davis, who, as you know, is this night not a dozen miles from here. If You refuse, they might seek to impeach you, and I fear that more than one member of your Cabinet would go along with it"

Lincoln shook his head.

"Thank God for the Founding Fathers," he said softly. "Sir?'

"In their wisdom they gave the executive four years in office. Until that term expires, I will hold the course. I swore an oath before God to defend our Constitution and I shall do it Congress can howl, they can scream. I don't care what they say now. Congress might be swayed by the passions of the moment but I will not be. If my Cabinet turns against this course, I will fire them. If need be, I will stand alone. As long as Grant can field an army, I will support him and I will hold this course. If the people, in their wisdom, or because of the fears and lies of the demagogues, should vote me out, then so be it but until then, I will plow the furrow I am in."

Elihu smiled.

"Then Grant is your man."

Baltimore, Maryland

July 20, 1863 11:30pm

The knock on the door was in code-three taps, three times. Sitting in the semidarkness with George Kane, one of the city's former commissioners of police, ex-mayor George Brown looked up nervously. He moved to blow out the coal oil lamp on the table between them, but Kane shook his head.

"Do that and they'll come barging in." "What if it's Federals?" Kane forced a smile.

"Then it's back to prison. Go answer the door." Brown stood up, his wife standing at the top of the stairs looking down at him, eyes wide. "Stay up there," he hissed.

He went to the door, checked to see that the chain latch was hooked in place, undid the bolt and cracked it open. "The Honorable George Brown?" The man standing on the steps was wrapped in a dark cloak, broad-brimmed hat pulled down low over his eyes. He smelled of horse sweat

"Who is asking for him?" Brown asked.

"A friend."

"How can I be certain?"

"Mr. Brown, I don't know any of the damn silly passwords, but I beg you, let me in." "I'm armed," Brown said.

"You should be, on a night like this; now please let me in."

He hesitated, the man in the doorway looking around nervously. A patrol marched with shouldered rifles, passed on a side street, a crowd of several dozen behind them, shouting, obviously drunk.

"Damn it, sir, don't leave me standing out here."

The stranger opened the top button of his cloak and Brown caught a glimpse of a uniform collar. It was light-colored, not the dark blue of a Union jacket, which looked black at night.

Brown unhooked the chain and opened the door wider. The lone man slipped in, Brown latching the door shut behind him.

"This way," Brown announced and pointed to the parlor. Kane was on his feet, hand in one pocket of his trousers. "Who is it?" Kane asked.

The man stood in the doorway and looked around cautiously.

"Sir, I will have to ask who you are first"

"This is a friend of mine," Brown interjected, "and you are a guest in my house. So please, no more tomfoolery, identify yourself."

"Sir, I am Lieutenant Kirby of General Stuart's staff and with the First Maryland Cavalry, Confederate States of America. I grew up here in Baltimore; my father worked on Mr. Howard's newspaper as a typesetter. If you wish for verification, I know where Mr. Howard is and will find him, but I would prefer not to be back out on the street"

Kirby unbuttoned his cloak, revealing a stained jacket of the Confederate army, and reached into his breast pocket

Kane stiffened slightly at the move. Kirby slowed and drew out a sealed envelope, with several matches welded to the paper in the wax seal so that it could be destroyed quickly.

"Sir, this is a letter of introduction from General Stuart. It is not addressed to you for obvious reasons, but I was instructed to place it in your hands."

Brown took the envelope, broke the seal, and read the contents. It was the standard sort of letter, asking for the kind reception of the bearer, some general platitudes, nothing more. Brown looked carefully at the signature.

"I regret to say I do not know General Stuart's hand," Brown said cautiously.

"We didn't expect you to, sir."

"How did you get here?" Kane asked

"I was part of a troop sent forward to gather information about the defenses of this city. The men are all Marylanders and we know this place well. My orders were that, given the opportunity, I was to try and slip into the city and establish contact with you."

"In uniform?" Brown asked, a bit incredulous.

"He's no fool," Kane interjected "If captured, he's a soldier and cannot be hanged as a spy. Most likely your cover was that you were just sneaking through to visit a dying mother or auntie. Is. that it?"

Kirby grinned boyishly and nodded

"And your passage in here?"

"Sir, I don't mink I should tell you my exact path. But as a boy I used to come out of the city to hunt and fish, so I know my way about It didn't get dicey until the last ten blocks or so. Loyal League patrols are out in force, raising a ruckus, many of them drunk. I bluffed my way past one group; it cost me the bottle of whiskey I had in my pocket I fear though there could be violence before much longer; they seem frightened."

"They are frightened, Lieutenant Kirby, and perhaps you can enlighten us as to why. We were visited by the guard this afternoon and ordered to stay inside after dark under threat of arrest If more than two of us are seen together, we will be arrested as well for conspiracy to incite rioting."

'The real message is a verbal one, Mr. Brown. I am ordered first of all to find out whatever you and your friends can share with me about the current state of military affairs in Baltimore. Size of the garrison, state of readiness, and armaments. The political situation as well. And finally to ask if you would be willing to place yourself at the disposal of our forces for a service, which as of yet cannot be discussed"

Brown finally started to warm to him. The young lieutenant looked and sounded sincere; his enthusiasm for this shadowy work was clearly evident

"What news, first?" Kane asked, warming up as well.

"We're coming," Kirby said with a grin. "I can't tell you exactly how or when, but the army is on the march, heading straight to Baltimore. By this time tomorrow this city will be free of the Yankee tyranny."

Brown and Kane looked at each other and broke into grins. Brown, with a flourish, opened a sideboard and produced a thick-cut glass decanter and three heavy tumblers. Pouring three shots of brandy, he passed them around and silently held his glass aloft

To hell with the ban on saying it" Kane snapped, "here's to the glorious Confederacy."

Brown looked over at Kirby. If this was indeed some sort of elaborate trap, to get the two of them to utter a so-called traitorous oath, Kane had just done it Kirby simply grinned

To the glorious Confederacy," the lieutenant said drained the glass, then was hit an instant later by a spasm of coughing.

To the glorious Confederacy" Brown whispered still not quite sure if he could believe what was happening. A little more than two years ago he had been dragged out and arrested his right to habeas corpus denied incarcerated without charges in Fort McHenry, and then transported like a common slave, to Fort Warren up in Boston. There he had languished for over a year before finally being released last fall. Never an apology, never a comment about what he had been charged with, just sent home with a stern warning that if he ever uttered a word against the Union, it would be back to prison, and this time they would throw away the keys.

Hundreds of others in Baltimore and eastern Maryland had endured the same fate, recalling to many of them the worst of the tyranny of kings, and a stunned disbelief that the principles of the Constitution could be so basely abused. If anything, the Federal government's abuse of power was proof positive of the righteousness of the Confederate cause.

It had, up to this moment, broken the spirit of the city of Baltimore, a place of fear, with armed bands patrolling the street, a place where ruffians lorded over them, their women were insulted in the street, and none dared to speak in what was now a Southern town under the fist of a foreign power.

God willing, that was about to change at last The day of liberation was at hand. The city had been seething with rumors ever since Union Mills, waiting, hoping. Though all understood the need to take Washington first, still there had been consternation that not a single brigade of Jeb Stuart's famed cavaliers had made the attempt to free Baltimore as well. If this boy was to be believed though, they were coming at last!

He set his glass back down.

Kirby nodded.

"Now please tell me what you think might be helpful to General Stuart"

"The guard," Kane started. "The Loyal League. I would guess it numbers around five thousand. They're good at beating up defenseless old men and terrorizing women, but against any kind of disciplined military force? They'll scurry like rabbits."

"The garrison?"

"What little was here was all but stripped out and sent down to Washington last week. There's the First Connecticut Cavalry based at Federal Hill, several other regiments scattered around the city. It's been hard to keep track of things the last week. Anywhere we attempt to go we are followed by traitors and spies. We are stopped far outside the range of any of the forts or headquarters."

"The hospitals are packed with wounded coming in from Gettysburg and Union Mills," Brown interjected. "A thousand or more, I heard. Also, there are maybe five hundred paroled Union prisoners downtown as well, waiting for the final paperwork for their exchanges along with several hundred Confederate prisoners. At Fort McHenry at least a hundred civilians are being held under guard as well."

"So your estimate of the fighting strength?"

"As I said," Kane excitedly jumped back in, "some of the troops were ordered down to Washington by General Heintzelman. I'd estimate roughly two to three thousand infantry, the regiment of cavalry, some heavy artillery, and that's it"

Kirby smiled and then gladly accepted a second glass of brandy poured by Brown, but this time only sipped from it

"We heard you attacked Washington but not a word of the results. All telegraph lines into and out of Baltimore in every direction are down. Did you take it?"

Kirby shook his head.

"I rather assumed that given you were coming here," Brown interjected.

'Tell General Stuart this," Kane said forcefully. "Come on quickly. There are rumors that the Army of the Potomac is reorganizing at Perryville. If they have word of your coming, they could rush trainloads of troops down here in a matter of hours, man the fortifications, and it will be a bloody price to get in here."

Kirby smiled.

"We're aware of them, sir."

"I'll sketch out the fortifications for you if you want, son," Kane said.

Kirby shook his head.

"Sir, I was told not to be caught carrying any maps or such on me, so I think I'll refrain from that. Just what I can carry in my head. But if you'd draw some rough sketches, I'll try and remember the details."

Kane nodded and, returning to the table, he called for Brown to bring some papers and a pencil. Minutes later he had produced rough sketches of the primary fortifications guarding Baltimore, Kirby leaning over the table to examine them carefully.

"There are over seventy heavy guns in Fort McHenry, a dozen heavy guns on Federal Hill," Kane said. "The garrisons are definitely not front-line troops, but behind fortifications they could be formidable."

"Suppose rioting should break out in the city?" Kirby asked. "We don't want anything serious, I'm told to convey that to you. Nothing that could get out of hand, but sufficient to clog roads, prevent the movement of troops, perhaps spread panic with the garrisons."

Kane looked over meaningfully at Brown.

"Yes, there are thousands waiting for this day."

Kirby said nothing more, and the two civilians looked at each other and smiled.