Never Call Retreat

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Headquarters, Army of the Susquehanna

One Mile North of Monocacy Church, Maryland

9:00 P.M.

The rain unleashed like a shattering deluge shortly after nightfall, striking with such intensity that he had called a halt to the march. As he looked out the window of the small farmhouse requisitioned as headquarters, he had to confess to a sense of guilt. In the past he had usually tried to set the example. If his men were forced to sleep in the rain, then so would he. But tonight, the migraine, the exhaustion, and also the fact that the secretary of war was by his side argued against that example, and he had Ely approach the darkened house.

It was, in fact, abandoned, the family most likely having fled because of the armies marching back and forth. It was a ramshackle affair, not much more than a rude cabin concealed beneath the trappings of clapboard nailed over the logs and a rough coating of plaster and whitewash on the inside.

The barn was empty as well, his staff piling into it, bedding down with their horses.

A flash of lightning revealed his troops hunkered down in the open fields, crouched under ponchos or shelter halves. In the woodlot nearby some intrepid souls had actually managed to get a fire going and were piling on logs, a circle of drenched men standing around the smoldering flames.

Grant turned back to Elihu and sat down, the room illuminated by a coal oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Their meal, what little he could stomach, was the same as the men outside ate, cold salt pork, hardtack, but he did have the luxury of coffee that one of his staff brewed in the open fireplace. Water was pouring down the chimney, and the fire was starting to hiss, smoke backfilling into the room.

Ely came in, stamping his boots, poncho dripping water on the rough-hewn floor.

"Sir, thought you should know a courier managed to come in from Hancock a few minutes ago."

Grant reached up to take the note.

"Sorry, sir, the paper, well, it just got soaked and disintegrated."

"Go on then."

"Hancock reports they've sealed off the Potomac and have linked up with the Army of the Potomac about five miles below Edwards Ferry."

Ely grinned.

"He also begs to report, sir, they bagged most of Longstreet's Corps and an entire pontoon train. The rebs had the bridge halfway across the river when they attacked and cut them off. He estimates between his command and that of Sykes and Grierson they've taken nearly five thousand prisoners."

"They did it," Elihu exclaimed, slapping the table with his hand, the sound of it causing Grant to wince.

Elihu jumped to his feet, came over to Grant's side, and grabbed his hand, shaking it.

"You did it, Grant. By God, you did it!"

"That they did, sir," Ely grinned. "Hancock suggests, sir, that what is left of Lee's army will be coming back toward us in the morning. He has linked up with Sykes, and they will begin pushing toward us and closing the trap, come dawn."

Grant nodded and offered a weak smile.

"Thank you, Ely."

There was a note of dismissal in his voice, and Ely, a bit confused, withdrew, closing the door.

"My God, Grant, this could be it"

Grant looked out the window.

"Perhaps."

"What's wrong."

Grant rubbed his forehead.

"Maybe I'm just tired."

"The letter from the president," Elihu said.

Grant nodded, and Elihu reached into his breast pocket and took it out, pushing it over to Grant. Grant saw that the envelope was open.

"Yes, I read it," Elihu said. "The president told me to, even though it is addressed to you. I think you need to look at it now."

Grant nodded, sat back, unfolded the sheets of paper, and began to read.

The room was silent as Grant read the memo carefully. Finished, he put it down, then picked it back up, and read it one more time.

Finished, he looked over at Elihu.

"And this was written after the casualty reports from Frederick?" he asked.

"Yes, General, it was."

Grant sighed and folded the document up.

"I half expected when you arrived that it was with orders to relieve me."

"That's absurd, Grant."

"Frederick was a near-run thing, very near run."

"You warned us of that cost a month ago. You warned the president again just last week. He was prepared for it, though I know the news did come as a shock. But Grant, even if you had lost the field at Frederick, you accomplished the goal you set before us a month ago, the one mandated to you by the president. You destroyed Lee's army in the process. Even if you had abandoned the field, the combined commands of Hancock and Sykes would have cornered him."

"Perhaps," Grant said quietly.

He looked out the window.

"The cost. I never quite realized the cost. I think history will remember me now as 'the Butcher.'"

"Grant, what is war but butchery?" Elihu replied sharply. "Isn't that why you hated the army even as you served in Mexico? Isn't that why you quit? Any man who loves what he does too much, I would not give two cents for, nor would the president. The president just said to me a few days ago that a good general is like a good doctor facing a cancer or an amputation. He cuts because he has-to, not because he loves it. You need men under you like that young Sheridan, who get caught up in it, but the man who runs it all must balance things. You did so, and the survival of the Republic was in the balance."

"I wish it could have been done with less cost," he paused, "to both sides."

"If this war dragged on another year, how many more deaths? A hundred thousand, two hundred thousand? That's the other side of the equation the president asked me to convey to you. He anticipated what you might have to do to win. 'The cost up front might be high,' he said, 'but if the cost is high up front, let us pray it saves more lives in the long run.' I think, Grant, that is what you are accomplishing now."

"If we still bag Lee."

"What do you mean? He's lost his one pontoon bridge. This deluge will bring the creeks and rivers up. You have him cornered." 'Too many generals claim they have their opponent cornered and wake up in the morning to find him gone."

He looked out the window as another flash of lightning ripped the heavens.

"He can still run. He can still drag it out under cover of this storm, break up his army, and slip part of it across the river. If he does, this will still drag on."

Elihu did not reply.

"I think I need to try and sleep, sir. You can have the bunk here, I'll take the one in the loft."

Elihu did not argue with him. He could sense the melancholy, the burden Grant was carrying as he slowly climbed up the ladder and collapsed on the bed in the loft.

Elihu turned, and picking up a stick, he poked at the fire, unable to sleep.

Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia One Mile South ofMonocacy Church

10:00 P.M.

The small village of Beallsville was nothing more than a hamlet of a half dozen homes, a general store, and a small Episcopal church. Lee sat within the church alone, head bowed in prayer.

For once, given the violence of the storm, he had broken his rule and allowed his men to move into the houses, the sick and wounded to be brought into the church. The men were silent as he sat in the front pew.

He finished praying and stood up, then walked to the back of the church where a surgeon was at work. A Union soldier was on the table, leg shredded just below the knee, the boy looking up with pleading eyes at the doctor.

"It will be just fine, son," the doctor whispered. "Son, I have to take your leg off, but you still have your life. Think about your mother. Will it matter any less to her if you come home to her injured?" "No, sir, I guess not."

"Of course not. She'll greet you with open arms. Now go to sleep, son. You'll be just fine."

The doctor nodded to his assistant, who placed a paper cone over the boy's face.

"Breathe deeply."

"Hail Mary, full of grace…" the boy began to whisper, and then his voice drifted off. The doctor nodded to his other assistant who handed over a bloodied scalpel, and the doctor set to work. Lee turned away.

He heard a polite cough behind him and turned to see Walter in the doorway, illuminated by the flashes of lightning outside. Behind Walter was a gathering of officers, Longstreet, Stuart with head and arm bandaged, Jed Hotchkiss, several brigadiers, and Judah Benjamin.

"Sir," Walter whispered, coming to Lee's side. 'These gentlemen wish to speak with you."

"I assumed that," Lee said.

Walter opened the door into the vestry and the men followed him in. Walter struck a match to light a lamp, then closed the door.

Lee sat down in the only chair, the others standing formally before him.

"Go on, gendemen. I thought our plan of march had already been laid out for tomorrow, but if you have a concern, please share it."

They looked one to the other, and finally it was Jeb who stirred and stepped forward slowly.

"Sir, we have a request to lay before you."

"I am always open to suggestions from my trusted officers," Lee said. "Please go ahead, General Stuart."

"Sir, perhaps this storm is heaven-sent."

"How so, General Stuart?"

"Sir, we are requesting that you break the army up tonight. Every man to head for the river by his own means. Under cover of this storm thousands might get across to the other side. Come tomorrow, we turn west and head into the mountains. From there, sir, we can dig in and play havoc with them for years."

Lee said nothing, just stared at Jeb.

Longstreet stepped forward.

"I concur, sir. We might be able to get five to ten thousand across the river under cover of this storm."

The others, all except Walter, nodded in agreement.

Lee lowered his head, and all were silent God, give me wisdom now, he silently prayed. Guide me in what I am about to do.

He continued to pray and at last the words came to him and he looked back up.

"The One Hundred Forty-third Psalm, gentlemen." "Sir?" Jeb asked.

" 'Teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God.'" No one responded.

"I was just meditating on that psalm before you gentlemen came to visit. When I first started to pray in this church my heart was drawn to the last stanza of that psalm, 'And of thy mercy cut off mine enemies, and destroy all them that afflict my soul for I am thy servant.'"

Jeb nodded as Lee spoke.

"Did you see that Union boy being operated on when you came in?"

No one spoke.

"Is that my enemy?" he asked.

"He fights for our enemies," Jeb replied.

"No, sir," Lee said and now his voice was forceful. "That boy is not my enemy anymore. If we have an enemy now, it is this war itself. It has swept us up into its dark soul. It has killed and crippled thousands like that boy out in the chapel who is being cut apart even as we speak. We have spent more than two years at this, tearing each other's hearts and souls out."

He lowered his head for a moment and then raised it again.

"We're all sorry about that, sir," Longstreet replied.

"Of course we are. We always say we are sorry. Generals have been saying 'I'm sorry' since war began.

"All right, General Stuart. Let us say I do follow the suggestion you gentlemen have put before me. We shall break camp tonight, pass the word to our officers to tell our men to disband and head for the river. We shall destroy the artillery we have left and abandon our medical supplies and every man will make a run for it."

Jeb looked at him hopefully, as if he were about to change his mind.

"Then what?" Lee continued.

"Sir, like I said," Jeb pressed. "We tell the men to head west once they're across the Potomac, up into the Blue Ridge, set some rally points, and there carry on the fight."

"With what and how? All organization will be gone. Individual men will be hunted down, cornered, or killed. No officers in control, our men reduced to brigands and thieves in order to survive as they head cross-country. Those that make it. What then? They will be outlaws, not an army. It will be bushwhacking, murder, and reprisals on both sides for months, maybe for years to come."

He paused.

"Maybe forever."

He stood up and went to the window, the men parting before him.

"If I were Grant and presented with such a situation I would hunt us down without mercy. I would be forced to. There would be no honor in it, no rules of war, just a merciless hunt. Those of you who served out west saw it at times, the brutality of raids and reprisals against the natives, the executions, the torture."

He turned and looked at his men.

"You have been with me for over a year and a half, my friends." Now his voice was softer. "We have served our country with honor, and we have one more service to render to her."

He lowered his head.

"We must serve her with honor to the end." He smiled sadly. "Is not the will of God evident to us this night? We have placed our trust in him. We have sought his guidance and strength. We have prayed and always our prayers ended with 'Thy will be done.'"

He stared intently at the gathering.

"Do we not now see his will in this?

"Things have turned against us and in that I see his will. I have sought God's guidance every day of my life and I sought it again tonight. Yes, I contemplated the same thing you gentlemen suggested, but then the psalm was my answer. I must do his will, and it is clear to me now, gentlemen, that his will is that we shall continue with honor, and then, if need be, submit with honor.

"If we do not break through Grant's lines tomorrow, if we do not win and are forced to surrender, then I expect each and every one of us will do so with honor, and then together we shall rebuild this shattered land. I think in doing that we will answer my prayer and fulfill God's wishes for us. To do anything else, gentlemen…"

He raised his head and looked each of them in the eyes.

'To do anything else would be a sin and turn God against us, and our country, forever. The South will be reduced to an occupied land, marauding bands fighting like thieves in the night, our families displaced, farmlands destroyed, everything turned to wreckage and ruin and a hatred burned into all hearts that will never die, a curse passed on to our children's children."

No one dared to speak, heads were lowered. Finally, it was Judah who stepped forward.

"Sir, may I shake your hand," Judah whispered.

Lee looked at him with surprise and took it.

Judah turned and left the room without comment. One by one the others followed. Walter hesitated to leave, but Lee looked up at him and smiled, nodding for him to go as well.

Walter gently closed the door, and Lee sat back down and looked out the window, watching as the rain came down.

Headquarters, Army of the Susquehanna

August 31,1863 Dawn

The storm had finally passed an hour before dawn, leaving a cooling breeze out of the west. Grant stood on the front porch of the small cabin which was now his headquarters and handed up the dispatch to a trooper who saluted and rode off, mud splashing up around him. Phil watched the trooper ride off. "Should you signal your presence thus?" Phil asked. "Yes, I think I should," Grant replied. "How's the headache?" Phil asked.

Grant looked over at him coldly and felt it had to be discussed.

"General Sheridan, if you wish to serve with me, there are a couple of rules." "Sir?"

"No drinking in my presence, and never a mention of my headaches, do we understand each other?" "Yes, sir."

Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia Troops were forming up, skirmishers deploying out, heading north on the road to Frederick. This would be his final gamble. If he could catch Grant in column on the road and push him aside, there would be nothing behind him. It would then be a renewed race. Gain Frederick, take the Catoctin Pass, which was most likely unguarded, hold there while the rest of the army crossed over the South Mountain range, and then seek passage over the ford at Sharpsburg.

It was a desperate move, but if done with enough push, it could still work. His only wish now was that his men had found at least some sleep during the night, for today they would be expected to fight and march nearly thirty miles.

"White flag!" someone shouted.

Lee saw coming toward him a Union officer, about a quarter mile off, holding a white flag aloft, waving it back and forth.

"Maybe they wish to surrender," someone quipped, but there was no laughter.

Lee mounted and rode toward him, Longstreet and Walter at his side.

Skirmishers surrounded the trooper. One of Jeb's men went up to the Yankee, there was a quick exchange of words, and the trooper escorted the Yankee up to Lee. As he approached, the Union captain stiffened and saluted.

"Sir, I am Capt. Daniel Struble, on the staff of General Grant. He asked that I personally present this letter to you and await your reply."

"Captain Struble," Walter said, "you understand that under the rules of war you cannot report back on anything you see while within our lines."

"Of course, sir."

Walter nodded his thanks and returned Struble's salute.

Lee opened the letter even as his skirmishers pressed forward, in line of battle, some of them Armistead's men, who had shown up miraculously during the night.

To Gen. Robert E. Lee

Commander, Army of Northern Virginia

Sir,

I believe that the situation now warrants that we meet to discuss terms for the surrender of your forces. You are surrounded on all sides and your line of retreat across the Potomac has been severed. Further resistance can only result in the tragic loss of more lives.

I await your reply. (Signed) U. S. Grant

Lee folded the letter and stuck it into his breast pocket.

"My compliments to General Grant for his thoughtfulness, Captain Struble, but please tell him that I disagree with his assessment of the situation. That will be all."

Struble hesitated, saluted, and then started to turn away, then looked back.

"Sir, I doubt that you remember me. I was at the Point while you were superintendent.You left the end of my plebe year."

"I am sorry, Captain," Lee said politely, "but I do not recall you."

"Sir, a personal appeal. You taught us at the Point to always deal with our fellow officers as comrades and with honor."

He hesitated.

"Go on, Captain."

"Sir, on my word of honor to a fellow officer, you cannot win this day. I have seen both sides now. Honor binds me from saying or revealing more to you, but I do appeal to you to reconsider."

"Thank you, Captain Struble, but my decision is final."

"I am sorry, sir."

Struble turned and, with his Confederate escort, raced back down the road, mud flying up as he passed, a few of the skirmishers offering catcalls once Struble was clear of their lines.

Lee looked over at Pete.

"I think we should press forward and see what Grant has prepared," Lee said.

Struble appeared out of the distant woods, riding hard. Grant raised his field glasses and could tell the answer already. Struble drew up and saluted. "He didn't accept it." "No, sir. He refused."

"I'd have done the same," Grant said softly. "How many are coming?" Sheridan asked. Struble looked stiffly down at Sheridan. "Sir, I cannot tell you."

"Nor should you," Grant interjected. "Captain, please stand by."

The crackle of skirmish fire erupted ahead, and some mounted skirmishers came out of the woods, pulling back. Tragically, two men down the road dropped from their saddles.

The field was nearly six hundred yards wide, open pasture land, grass waist high. At the center of the field was a crossroads, a lane coming down from the right leading back up toward Hauling Ferry. Troops from that position had been coming down it during the night and were concealed in the woods to his flank, led by Hancock, who had turned over command of the rear guard to Sykes and was now commanding troops covering the western flank of the net. At the crossroads was a small chapel, apparently abandoned.

Grant looked behind him. It was not the best of tactical arrangements, but he prayed that what he had deployed would, have the desired effect.

His skirmishers reached the edge of the woods, this morning seeming to advance with a bit of their old spirit, or was their elan just a final, mad desperation? During the night scouts had reported some campfires just on the other side of the woods. Grant had to be there, the courier had proven that. The question to be answered in the next few minutes was simple enough. Was Grant's army beaten down and worn? Had the pursuit been one of troops exhausted and strung out on the roads, or had he managed to bring up sufficient strength?

If he is off balance, then we push through and roll him up. Every man had been spoken to by their officers just before daybreak, told of the task ahead. Dry ammunition from the few remaining wagons had been distributed to the advancing lines of Armistead.

As they advanced, Lee rode just behind the main battle line, his staff around him. He would not let them hold him back this morning, he had already made that clear. Somehow Walter had managed, during the night, to clean his other uniform and presented it to him when he arose. Stains had been sponged out, the brass polished. He felt strange dressed thus, for all his men were ragged, filthy, hollow-eyed from lack of sleep.

Moving cautiously, the skirmishers advanced a hundred yards out of the woods and into the field. There they halted, officers calling for the men to dress ranks.

Then he could see them. A heavy line of cavalry on the far side of the field, men mounted, perhaps two or three regiments.

For a moment his heart swelled. Cavalry, we can push them back.

"Bring up the guns," Lee said.

Walter looked back and raised a fist, then pointed forward. A battalion of guns that had been waiting on the far side of the woods turned into the road and started to struggle forward, mud splattering, the first of them reaching the edge of the woods then turning left and right to deploy out.

In another few minutes it would begin.

And then the Yankee cavalry men turned about, some riding off to either flank, into the adjoining woods, others heading toward the rear.

Behind them was a solid line of guns arrayed hub to hub, more than fifty, covering the width of the field. Directly behind the guns battle flags were suddenly raised up, dozens of flags, national colors, state flags, a solid wall of infantry, thousands strong.

The first gun recoiled, then down the line the others fired nearly in unison. Walter moved in protectively to Lee's side. Several seconds later they heard the shells… all of them aimed high, arcing up over the trees, all of them solid shot, no explosions, only the sound of their passage as they disappeared to the rear.

Lee raised his field glasses and scanned the line. The gun crews were at work, this time turning up the elevation screws, lowering the muzzles.

Grant had just given him a warning. The next salvo would plow straight into the Confederate lines.

Gunners to either side of him were unlimbering, looking nervously across the field, officers already shouting for case shot with three-second fuses.

Time seemed to drag out. The last of the Yankee gunners loaded, rammers stepping back, sergeants hooking in lanyards, rolling them out and waiting, facing their commanders, waiting for the order to unleash hell.

Lee looked over at his men at the edge of the woods. Bayonets had been fixed, men were arrayed, breathing hard, eyes focused across the field. Armistead was nearby, arm in sling, sword drawn, his hat on its tip.

Some of the men were kneeling, praying, many reciting the Twenty-third Psalm.

Still the Yankees were waiting. They should have opened the bombardment, fifty guns slashing across the field, trees shattering, guns dismounting, men screaming, his batteries smothered under, Armistead then going forward into the maelstrom.

Grant waited, not firing.

"Thy will be done, Lord," Lee said out loud.

You are not to fire until ordered to do so by me!" Grant kept shouting, as he rode back and forth just behind the gunners, Henry Hunt riding by his side. "Relax, boys, relax," Hunt interjected. "If they come, it'll be Malvern Hill all over again. Just relax, boys, relax."

Men stood tense, wide-eyed, staring across the field. The rebel skirmish line had stopped a third of the way into the field. Most were kneeling in the high grass. "A flag!" someone shouted. "A white flag!" A staff officer was pointing to a Confederate officer riding forward at a gallop, his saber raised, a dirty white towel or strip of cloth tied to the point. "Struble and Ely!"

The two left his side, Struble still with his white flag, Ely by his side. The two galloped out and met the officer halfway. They talked but for a moment, then the three turned about, Ely and Struble now galloping back, Ely standing tall in his stirrups, hat off, waving it.

"It's over!" he screamed, "Lee's surrendering! It's over!"

Men stood silent for a moment, comrades turning to each other in amazement, and then the cheering began. A wild, triumphal roar.

"Silence!" Grant screamed, and he rode out in front of the guns, turning to face his men.

"Silence!"

The cheering died away.

"There will be no demonstrations, no cheering," he cried, his voice carrying across the field. "Gunners, stand down, remove primers carefully. Infantry to stack arms and remain at ease!"

All fell silent and more than one man removed his hat. In an instant the mood was transformed. Some shook hands, as comrades of so many hard-fought campaigns looked at each other. "Looks like we'll live out this day," "My God, we're going home," "It's over, it's really over," rippled up and down the line. Some went to their knees in prayer, some wept, some laughed and began to slap each other on the back, others stood silent, heads bowed.

Ely and Struble came up to Grant.

"Sir, General Lee wishes to discuss terms."

Grant said nothing.

"Sir, I suggested the abandoned chapel in one hour," Struble interjected, pointing to the dilapidated church at the crossroads.

"That's fine."

Grant turned about and rode back through his line to his headquarters, where Elihu stood on the front porch. "It's over," Grant said.

Elihu smiled, then lowered his head and wept.

Monocacy Church, Maryland 8:00 A.M.

All were silent as Gen. Robert E. Lee rode through his lines, flanked by Walter, Longstreet, and Judah Benjamin. Men lined the road to either flank, battle flags held aloft, and he read the golden lettering on many of them… FAIR OAKS, GAINES MILL, MALVERN HILL, CEDAR MOUNTAIN, SECOND MANASSAS, SHARPSBURG, FREDERICKSBURG… so many of them fields of triumph. Some of Beauregard's men were deployed as well, SHILOH, CORINTH, CHARLESTON…

Beauregard was nowhere to be found. Lee had not seen him since the beginning of the retreat.

The men stood at present arms, but as he passed them, a shudder ran through the lines, men taking their hats off, some holding them silently aloft.

"God bless you, General," "We're with you, Marse Robert," "Tell us to go back in and we will," an officer cried out.

Lee paused and looked over at the man.

"That time has passed," Lee said quietly, and the man lowered his head and stepped back into the ranks.

They passed Armistead's Brigade, the general standing at the center front, saluting as Lee rode by. From the corner of his eye, he saw Pickett standing behind the men.

"I thought that man was no longer with this army," Lee whispered, vexed.

He pushed the anger in his heart aside and continued through the cool damp woods, where yet more men were drawn up, and then back out into the sunlight. The batteries on his side were still deployed, but guns had been unprimed, crews leaning against their pieces, one crew gathered around a smoking fire, trying to cook a meal. All looked up as he passed; all were silent.

Walter pushed out ahead, again holding aloft the dirty white towel tied to the tip of his sword. He waved it, and from the other side of the field a flag was waved in response, a cavalcade of a half dozen riders setting forth.

To his surprise, a troop of Union cavalry, joined by several Confederate troopers, was already at the chapel with brooms and shovels, cleaning out the inside even as they approached. The skirmish lines from both sides had slowly drawn closer, at last came together, and men were leaning on their rifles, sharing tobacco, smoking, chatting freely, watching as the generals from both sides approached.

As Lee rode up, a minute or so ahead of Grant, Phil Duvall came out and saluted.

"Sir, the inside was a bit of a mess. Chapel was abandoned. Unfortunately some Yankee troopers used it as a stable last year. I think we've got it fixed up, though."

Lee dismounted and walked to the entryway. It was a small Episcopal church and he took comfort in that. A cornerstone indicated it had been dedicated more than a hundred years before, in 1747. Several windows were broken. Within, there were clouds of dust as troopers, Union and Confederate, side by side, hurriedly swept the floors and took some pews, arranging them to face each other, a table in the middle, with two chairs, an inkwell and paper on the table.

He took a deep breath and waited.

Grant came riding up. He was mud-splattered, wearing the shell jacket of an ordinary infantryman, the only mark of rank the three stars on his shoulder. He was joined by a half dozen officers, most of whom Lee did not recognize, except for Winfield Scott Hancock, who gave a salute, which Lee returned.

The Union officers dismounted.

There was an awkward pause, then Walter and Ely Parker took over, offering introductions, the men shaking hands.

"Gentlemen," Ely finally said, motioning them into the chapel. They walked in, the dust having cleared with all the windows open, a cool breeze wafting in.

Grant walked over to the table in the center of the chapel and motioned for Lee to join him on the other side.

Grant cleared his throat nervously.

"General Lee, I am not sure if you recall. Back in Mexico, with General Scott, we met on several occasions."

Lee, taking off his hat, sat down, smiled, and shook his head.

"My apologies, General Grant, I am sorry but I do not recall you. I hope you do not take offense." "No, sir, of course not.

"Sir, I feel I should inform you that the president has personally looked into the case of your son, Rooney. He has already been paroled and should be home by now with your wife. The president apologizes for any distress this might have caused you by his capture and confinement He wished for me to express to you that the moment he heard of the situation he ordered his parole and release."

"Convey my thanks, sir."

Grant nervously cleared his throat again.

"Sir, I hope you accept my compliments that you and your men fought masterfully these last few months."

Lee did not reply for a moment and sighed.

"General Grant perhaps we should get down to the business at hand."

"Yes, sir, of course."

Grant motioned to Ely, who opened his haversack and drew out two sheets of paper.

"Sir, I've drawn up a draft of terms." He slipped the paper across the desk.

Grant looked at him carefully as Lee drew out his spectacles and adjusted them.

"Sir, I do not see this as an unconditional surrender as I have done so in the past The situation here is different. I have been in communication with the president these last few days."

He nodded over to Elihu, who stood in the corner of the room.

"These terms are a reflection of communications with President Lincoln, but also my own heartfelt convictions as well.

"Upon the signing of this document, you, sir, all your staff, all officers and men, are to be paroled until exchanged." Surprised, Lee looked up at him. "Paroled?"

"Yes, sir. We are bringing down a printing press from Frederick. It should be here later today, and the forms can be turned out. Each man is to sign his parole, once done he is free to go home."

Lee looked at him in surprise. He expected that by this evening his men would be marched north to prison or, worse yet, paraded in triumph through the streets of Washington.

"But there is one clause in here I feel I should tell you about now before you sign." "And that is?"

"The president, as of two days ago, has placed a ban on any further exchange of prisoners. You are paroled, sir. You and your men may go home, but you will not be exchanged for an equal number of our prisoners that you now hold or have paroled as well. In short, sir, you and your men are permanently out of this war. I want you to understand that. Go home, but it is over for all of you."

Lee sat back in his chair and hesitated. Traditionally, for the last two years, prisoners had indeed been held, but always there was the promise of exchange, an equal number of privates for privates, generals for generals. Once officially exchanged, the men were released, whether in a holding camp behind enemy lines, or back home… and allowed to return to the fight.

"I must think on this a moment, sir," Lee said.

'Take your time, sir," Grant replied. "But, sir, if you refuse, we will be forced to fight this day, and tomorrow the surrender will be unconditional."

He hesitated, not wishing to push too far, but feeling he had to.

"Sir, I shall lay my cards on the table to you. To your left flank General Hancock has massed more than fifteen thousand men. General Sykes is behind you with fifteen thousand more. Grierson is on your right flank, and I have thirty thousand blocking your way in this direction. I force-marched my men throughout yesterday and deployed them out here. Many are already dug in. Sir, you are trapped. I promise you, that is not a threat or a bluff. I would not stoop to that. It is the reality of this moment."

Lee looked at the other Union officers, Hancock, leaning heavily on his cane, nodding in agreement, Elihu Washburne, standing the corner, nodding as well.

"I am here as a representative of the president," Elihu said, "as secretary of war. I will take an oath affirming the truth of what General Grant has just told you, and the promise, as well, that if we are forced to fight again, unconditional surrender will be the tragic result. Please, sir, that is not the wish of President Lincoln now."

Lee glanced at Judah, who looked over at Elihu and then back to Lee and nodded an assertion.

"Then I believe it is my duty to sign," Lee replied softly.

Grant smiled.

'Thank you, sir. I think you are as weary of the fighting as I am. Let us end it this day."

"Several favors, please," Lee asked. "Certainly."

"Many of the mounts belong to the men themselves. May they please take them home with them. Fall harvest is about to come in, and it would be a tremendous help if they could return with their horses and mules."

"Of course."

"Officers to retain side arms. That is a traditional mark of rank and will help to maintain order as well if any men might rebel against this surrender."

"I understand."

"Finally, it humbles me to ask this. Some of my men have not eaten in two days." Grant smiled.

"Our own supply wagons are stuck in the mud, but I promise I shall see what I can do."

"I have enough rations on the canal boats," Hancock interjected. "I will have them brought up with all possible speed."

Grant motioned to Ely, who quickly added in the extra provisions on the two copies of the document.

A minute later Ely carefully slid the document over to Lee, who scanned it one last time, took up a pen from the inkwell, and without hesitation signed it. He passed it back to Grant. The second copy was signed, both of which Grant now countersigned, and then there was a long silence.

"Once the printing press is up and paroles printed out and signed, your men will stack arms. That done, you and your army are free to march out of here and back into Virginia. I think we can make those arrangements by late tomorrow."

"General, I think I shall return to my men," Lee said. "I must break the news now and see to their welfare."

Grant stood up, hesitated, then extended his hand, which Lee took.

Lee walked out, staff and officers following, mounted, and rode off.

"He didn't offer you his sword," Elihu said as the room emptied out.

"Nor should he, nor would I have taken it," Grant said softly. "He is an honorable man and I would have been ashamed to take it. Elihu, we fought him for two years, perhaps this final action by him has saved this country after all. He may keep his sword."

Elihu looked over at Grant and smiled.

"I know I shouldn't ask, but how's the headache?"

"What headache?" Grant said with a grin. "It disappeared the moment I saw that white flag."

Grant stepped out of the chapel, all order having broken down around it. Hundreds of men, Union and Confederate gathered around the outside.

As Lee mounted, he looked around and offered a salute, every man returned it. He set off at a slow trot, riding back to the South.

8:00 P.M.

"General Lee?"

It was Walter Taylor standing in the doorway of the vestry that Lee now used as his headquarters.

Walter knew he had been asleep for several hours, and Lee, a bit embarrassed, stirred and sat up. "Yes, Walter."

"Sir, a messenger just came from General Grant. He requests that you meet him back at the chapel, you and Secretary Benjamin."

"I'm coming."

Lee stood up, brushed himself off, and almost picked up his saber and side arm to snap on, then left them in place. Outside the church Traveler was waiting, Benjamin already mounted.

The two rode off together, Walter and a dozen cavalry troopers providing escort.

The encampment area was quiet, as it had been throughout the day. The men were so exhausted that the shock of what had transpired this day had caused a complete collapse. Men had simply lain down in the fields and gone to sleep. With the coming of evening a few managed to get fires going, but there was little to cook until something absolutely remarkable happened.

At first it was just one or two, then a few dozen, and then by the hundreds; Yankees had crossed the field, drifting into the camps, shyly pulling out a few pieces of hardtack, a tattered bag filled with coffee, a little bit of salt pork or a chicken snatched from some farmyard. They sat peacefully together, chatting away, comparing notes of who had fought where. Officers were doing it, too, especially the West Pointers, seeking out classmates and comrades from so long ago.

As Lee's party approached the chapel, Grant was leaning against the doorway, smoking a cigar, and he stood up formally as Lee dismounted. The two stood silently for a moment, neither quite sure of protocol, and finally Lee offered a salute, which Grant returned.

"Sir, I felt we should talk," Grant said and he motioned Lee to the door, then looked back at Judah Benjamin. "Just the four of us. The secretary of war waits inside."

The table in the room was set about with four chairs, a coal oil lamp in the middle and a few candles by the altar shedding the only light. Souvenir hunters had been busy throughout the day in the abandoned chapel. It was reported Phil Sheridan had snatched the table the surrender had been signed on, while others had hauled out pews, even a couple of the stained-glass windows. The table between them now was a rough-hewn affair, carried over from Grant's headquarters, as was the lantern and candles.

A pot of coffee, still warm, was on the floor, and Elihu produced four tin cups and poured the drinks as the small group sat down.

"I think we need to talk," Grant said, opening now without any nervous preamble.

"I agree, sir. And again my thanks for the generosity shown to my men this day."

Grant unconsciously let his hand drift to his breast pocket, which contained the missive from Lincoln: "Let them down easy," had been written not once, but twice, in his directives not only to negotiate the surrender of Lee but to discuss broader issues as well.

"General Lee," Grant continued, "I realize there is a difference in our ranks. I command all of the armed forces of the United States of America now in the field, while you but command the Army of Northern Virginia."

"Yes, that is true."

"But I would like to enter into negotiations to end all fighting, to end this war. The president in a memo sent to me yesterday reaffirmed my authority to do so in a military sense, and he asks if you would consider such a proposition."

Lee sat back and shook his head.

"General Grant, I have no authority to do so. You are right, I command the Army of Northern Virginia, which has laid down its arms this day. As for the other armies in the field, I have absolutely no authority to speak for them."

"As I knew you would reply," Grant said.

"Then why ask?"

"Sir, I think I should explain a few things that now confront us both." "Go on."

"As I told you this morning, you and all your men will be paroled home. I offer as well to you my personal pledge that, once home, no one will bother or molest you or your men. The president made that clear in his memo to me. As far as he is concerned, your war is over, or should I say, our war against you; Obey the laws of the United States of America, and nothing more will be done to any of you."

"And as I said before, that is most generous."

"And yet the war continues."

"I have no control over that."

"I think you do, sir."

Lee shook his head and remained silent., "I shall share with you the rest of the memo sent by the president."

He looked over at Elihu, who nodded in agreement.

"We are to help you and your men return to Virginia. Even now my engineers are completing a bridge at Edwards Ferry. You can march out, once disarmed, and stack your colors before crossing the river. I suggest you then take your troops to Richmond and there disband them."

He took a deep breath.

"The day after you return to Virginia, I will move my army across the Potomac as well, but advance no farther than the Rappahannock River, occupying the positions held by our armies prior to the Chancellorsville campaign. This I do as a military necessity to shield Washington, but also to position myself for an advance on Richmond."

Lee nodded, looking straight at Grant.

"And then?"

"Sir, if the Confederate government does not seek a general armistice leading to their disbandment at the end of thirty days, I am ordered to drive straight on Richmond. I will also detach one corps to occupy Shenandoah Valley and, if need be, destroy any material of military worth."

"Please, sir, define military worth?" Lee asked.

"The fall harvest, all barns, railroads, everything clear down the valley to Tennessee. I will do the same as I advance toward Richmond."

"I see," Lee replied, shaking his head. "A new kind of war, isn't it, General Grant?"

"A kind of war that will become necessary if your goveminent does not see reality and disband. I will regret it, sir, but I will order it without hesitation.

"We do not need to play any bluff games with each other, General Lee. You have absolutely no forces left in Virginia, other than some militia. Once I start this next campaign I shall be in Richmond within the week.

"I regret to say this, but I am ordered to carry my campaign forward with full and absolute vigor. That means my army will live off the land as we advance. We will cut a swath fifty miles wide and destroy everything in our path."

Lee sighed.

"General Grant, so far, this war has been fought with a certain degree of civility, with respect to the property rights of civilians."

"That is war, this new kind of war," Grant replied, and there was a sharpness to his voice. "I do not like it any more than you do. It is the prayerful wish of our president that the terms of surrender granted here today will send a positive message across the South. We want peace, we wish it as much as you, and we can have it with honor. But if there are some who wish to continue the fight, then utter devastation will be the result.

"I am not sure that you heard the news from Atlanta today," Grant said.

"No, sir."

"Sherman has soundly defeated Bragg again, near Kennesaw Mountain. We received word that your president is finally relieving Bragg and replacing him with Joe Johnston, but it is too little too late. Sherman declares that his armies will start the bombardment of Atlanta within days; in fact, he is holding back until I authorize him to do so. He believes he can take the city in a matter of days.

"If your resistance continues, he has already suggested the plan to burn Atlanta to the ground, tear up the railroads, and then march from there straight to Savannah, again living off the land, destroying most of Georgia in the process."

Lee glared at Grant.

"Sir, I saw a certain compassion in you this morning. Your words now challenge that first assumption."

Grant leaned forward and stared at Lee intently.

"Sir, we are soldiers. We have seen nothing but hell the last two years. You know and I know your cause is lost. To me, the wasting of but one more life would be a sin. Yes, there has been a threat offered, but also a hope, a hope that you and I can work together to end this terrible slaughter and return peace to our land. Sir, I must repeat, any more deaths will be a sin, and they will rest upon your soul and mine."

Lee, a bit flustered, took up the cup of coffee Elihu had offered and looked down as he took a sip. Then he looked up.

"I believe you," Lee said.

Grant signed, sat back in his chair, and nodded his thanks.

"But I repeat, I have no authority beyond that of the Army of Northern Virginia," Lee replied.

"Gentlemen, may I interrupt?" Elihu said and he leaned forward, placing his hands on the table.

Grant nodded his assent, and Elihu looked over at Judah.

"I hope you don't mind that I call you Judah," Elihu said. "The rules of diplomatic protocol forbid me from addressing you by your title since we have never recognized the legitimacy of your government."

Judah smiled.

"Of course, Elihu." 'The generals have had their words. I think you and I should now share a few thoughts."

"And your thoughts are?" Judah asked.

"Your government declares that you are secretary of state. All know that you are the one who is always at the right side of your president Davis. You, more than any other, have the power to persuade him."

"You confer upon me more power than I think I have," Judah replied with a smile.

"Let me tell you the terms President Lincoln now offers."

"Go on."

"I carry with me an additional letter, which I shall turn over to you at the end of this meeting, outlining the terms, which are as follows.

"Your Confederate government is to vote to surrender to the government of the United States of America. It is then to vote full allegiance to that government and its Constitution. Then it must disband itself and go home.

"Upon doing that, a military armistice shall be declared and all armies of the federal forces will stop in place, except for two forces. General Grant's will occupy Richmond and Sherman's will occupy Atlanta.

"All troops are to surrender their arms to the nearest federal forces, sign paroles, and return home. State militias behind the lines are to report to their respective capitals, disarm, sign paroles, and return home as well.

"In return, and you will have it in writing from President Lincoln, there will be no arrests, no incarcerations, no trials, no retributions, no confiscations of property"-he paused- "other than slaves."

"Sir?"

"The Emancipation Proclamation shall become law across all twelve of the states in rebellion; all slaves at the moment of the surrender of your government are forever free."

"A bit hypocritical," Judah offered back. "What about those states which remained in the Union, where slavery still exists?"

"I agree, and given some things I've heard about you, I think this is a moral issue for you as well," Elihu replied. "In his message to Congress, come December, the president will set forth several measures. The first is a constitutional amendment forever banning slavery and granting full rights of citizenship. Second, when your various state legislatures reconvene, those men, who have signed an oath of loyalty to the Union and agree to support the constitutional amendment ending slavery, will hold their seats and will then vote for senators and, for the present, congressmen to be sent to Washington. The one stipulation for those elected to federal office is that they must sign oaths of allegiance as well and an oath in support of the constitutional amendment banning slavery. That is their only requirement.

"The government will resume in January with full representation from the South."

The room was silent for a moment, Judah taking the information in.

"No reprisals?"

"No, sir. The president is emphatic on that. He said the other day that we are like a family that has been divided too long, until a beloved child within the family dies. That child is the four hundred thousand sons so far lost. In spite of our differences we must now gather to mourn him and to repair all that we have done to each other.

"This is unofficial, but the president has authorized me to state this to you two gentlemen in private. If the South returns thus, come next summer, he will place before the Republican Party a nomination of a Southerner as his running mate and will promise one or two cabinet-level offices as well. The party will run on a unity and reconciliation platform."

"The terms are generous," Judah conceded, "but the issue of the blacks. Where are they to go? How will they live?"

"I saw the field carpeted with dead black soldiers at Frederick," Grant said coldly. "If any have earned the right of full citizenship, it is they."

He looked over at Lee, who lowered his eyes and then nodded in agreement.

"It will be hard. But I believe, as Lincoln said to me a few days back, 'Every drop of blood drawn by the bondsman has now been repaid.' We must learn to live together. And I pray that we can. Lincoln will propose a program in December opening up land in the west as part of the Homestead Act for any who wish to go there to start life anew. He is proposing as well federal moneys for schools and colleges, and, if need be, the direct loans for the purchase of land in the South, at fair market value, for any who wish to sell part of their farms and plantations to those who once worked them."

"That will be expensive."

"The war cost nearly two million dollars a day. The price will be cheap in comparison to another year of war. If your congressmen and senators vote for the appropriations, well, to be cynical, they will profit, because they are some of the biggest landholders, but in so doing will set the example as well. Sir, I must warn you, the president and I have talked about this at length. If maneuvers are played by former owners, to try to rebond their former slaves to the land, through sharecropping, or contracts of service that are impossible to fulfill, the offer of direct purchase will be withdrawn, and confiscation might then be considered.

"It is the clear and stated policy of this administration that the black man is now an equal citizen, in a nation of equals. Many of them paid that price in blood, as both Generals Grant and Lee can affirm. If this nation is to heal, that must be one of the cornerstones. We do not wish this issue to haunt us for the next hundred years. We can end it here."

Elihu leaned forward and stared straight at Judah.

"Sir, if we do not agree to this point, I fear that what helped to cause this war, the issue of slavery and race, will continue to fester within us for the next hundred years. I do not wish to sound overly sentimental or patriotic, but the Declaration did declare that all men are created equal. I want to believe that the four of us, sitting here, can help that to come true."

Judah sighed.

"And yet human nature being what it is, I hope your dream is true, Elihu. I have a friend in Baltimore, a rabbi, who shared basically the same thoughts with me just a few weeks past. Yes, he is right, and so are you. As a Jew I should be more sensitive to that than most. The history of my people is replete with persecutions, and I fear in times to come it will happen again, perhaps even worse than what was endured before. But we here now rail against the deep-seated fears of so many."

"Then we set the example," Grant interjected. "The example the president will set as well. The example I know you, General Lee, have always set. I received a report yesterday how you personally intervened and protected some of our black prisoners of war. I thank you for that, and I can assure you word of that will spread."

"They were honorable soldiers, I could do no less."

"I think, gentlemen, we are all in agreement on this," Elihu interjected.

Elihu looked over at Grant and sat back.

"Gentlemen, I think it has nearly all been said."

Lee nodded.

"I promise you, General Lee, rations shall be up by dawn for your men. The signing of paroles will start tomorrow as well. Might I suggest a formal stacking of arms and colors on the morning of September 3. At which time I will try to issue out five days' rations to each of your men to help them on their way home."

"Thank you, sir."

The group stood up and was silent, not sure how it was to end.

"It is our duty now," Grant said, "to heal this nation."

The White House

August 31,1863 10:30 P.M.

The serenaders had gathered around the White House at dusk, when the first newspaper extras had been rushed out into the streets, newsboys crying, "Lee surrenders at Frederick!" "Grant saves the Union!"

The crowd, which only days before had been on the verge of rioting, was now exuberant, cheer after cheer rising up as two batteries in Lafayette Park fired off a hundred-gun salute.

He had finally relented and stepped out onto the balcony, unable to speak for several minutes as hysterical cries greeted him.

Finally he lowered his head. Then all fell silent, and he looked up at them.

"Now is a time of celebration," he said, "and I join with you."

Again long minutes of cheering. "Hurrah for Old Abe." "Hurrah for Grant." "The Union."

"And yet, our task is not finished," he began, the crowd falling silent with his words. "There is much to do. Let us all join in prayer that our former brothers and sisters of the South shall see the will of God in this decision and that soon the guns will fall silent forever. That the chorus of the Union shall again swell as one voice and that the better angels of our nature shall again prevail.

"Now is a time of celebration but it must be, as well, a time of forgiveness. Forgiveness of our former foes, and yes, of ourselves as well, for all that we have done to each other. God has placed this test before us and let us rise to the occasion, not just now but in years to come. Let us set aside our hatreds, our fears, and join hands once more. Let us show compassion for the wounded and the widow"-he paused- "of both sides.

"And let us honor, as well, the pledge made by our forefathers in the Declaration, in which it is written, that all men are created equal. Let us now honor that pledge as well."

There were no cheers now, only a somber silence, some in tears.

He forced a smile and looked down at the band on the front lawn of the White House.

"Bandmaster, I think we can claim right of conquest to a song I have loved dearly for years, but have seldom heard in this city of late."

"Whatever you desire, Mr. President," the bandmaster shouted back, and a certain levity returned to the crowd.

" 'Dixie.' I would dearly love to hear 'Dixie' once more."