Never Call Retreat

CHAPTER FOUR

Ten Miles North of Hanover, Pennsylvania

August 23, 1863

6:00 A.M.

Captain, rider coming in." Capt. Phil Duvall looked up from the simmering campfire where he and Sergeant Lucas had been frying some fresh-cut pork, requisitioned from the farmer whose yard they were camped in.

It was Syms. How the man was keeping to the saddle was beyond him. A local doctor in a town they had passed through had dug the rifle ball out of Syms's calf, bandaged it, and told him to stay out of things for a week. Syms had just laughed, asked the doctor to cut his boot down below the wound and bulky bandage, remounted, and fell back in. Besides, to "stay out of things" would have meant staying behind to be captured by the Yankee cavalry that had been pressing them back all day.

Duvall had pickets a few miles north of where they were camped, watching the road from Carlisle. The Yankee regiment went into camp at dusk. They had pressed, but not to the point of aggressively seeking a fight, rolling him back, trading shots at long range, probing forward, he retreating a mile or so, and thus it had been all day, with no casualties on either side-just a steady, constant pressure to mask what was behind them.

It was indeed his old friend Custer. He had spotted him just before sunset, riding in the lead, about a mile off. Strange that he was not coming on more aggressively, Phil thought more than once after confirming who his opponent was. That was an indicator right there that George was ordered not to seek engagement, but just keep pushing him back.

Syms halted and Lucas stood up to help him get out of the saddle, the man grimacing as he dismounted and hobbled over to squat by Phil's side.

"Some coffee?"

"Love it, sir."

Phil poured him a cup, and Syms took it, looking hungrily at the slices of pork in the frying pan. Phil handed him a fork; Syms stabbed a piece and took a bite, cursing and muttering as he gingerly chewed on the meat, then took a long drink of the hot brew.

He sat down with a sigh.

"What do you have for me?" Phil asked.

"Infantry, lots of infantry."

"Where?"

Syms reached into his haversack and pulled out a sketch pad. Drawn on it was a rough map.

"There's a road here, the one that runs south of the main pike out of Harrisburg. It passes through Dillsburg and on to Petersburg, which we rode through yesterday morning. I circled far out to the left as you told me to. Waited till dark, then cut north using farm lanes and back trails.

"Their cavalry screen is tight. You can tell someone new is running that show. Before, we used to punch through Stoneman or Pleasanton as a joke. Not now. Every crossroads was manned, every village had at least a troop of cavalry guarding the roads. So it was a lot of cutting through fields and keeping quiet.

"Near Dillsburg I finally saw the infantry. Campfires by the hundreds."

"That puts them fifteen miles due south of Carlisle," Phil said. "It means they're heading this way." "Looks that way."

"You get any prisoners, identifications of units?" Syms shook his head.

"I'm lucky just to get back with what I told you, sir. I lost two men coming back; we got jumped crossing a road. We wounded one man and talked to him. He's with Custer."

"But the infantry?"

"I can't tell you, sir, but from the campfires it looked to be division strength."

Their conversation was interrupted by the distant pop of rifle fire. The men camped around Phil looked up, some stood, a few going over their mounts, which had remained saddled through the night, and began to pack up, tying on blanket rolls, checking revolvers for loads.

"Our friends seem to want another day of it." Phil sighed. He looked over at Lucas, asked for Syms's notebook, and quickly wrote out a message.

Detachment, Third Virginia Fifteen Miles Northwest of Hanover Report has arrived that this night Union infantry in division strength camped at Dillsburg. Am facing at least a regiment of Custer's command. Will fall back toward Hanover.

Captain Duval He tore the sheet off and handed it to Lucas.

"Ride like hell to Hanover. Be careful, they might have tried to slip around us during the night. Get this message telegraphed to headquarters. Wait there for me. I suspect we'll not be far behind you."

Phil leaned over, forked a piece of pork, and wolfed it down.

"Mount up! We move in ten minutes," he shouted.

Three Miles Southeast of Port Deposit

August 23, 1863

6:30 A.M.

The train, pulling but two passenger cars, slid to a halt, steam venting around the president's legs. The engineer leaned out of the cab, looking at him wide-eyed. "Are you Abe?" the engineer asked. "Last time I looked in the mirror I was," Lincoln said with a smile. The startled engineer quickly doffed his hat and nodded.

A captain leaning out of the door of the first car jumped down, ran up to him, nervously came to attention, and saluted.

"Mr. President. I must admit, I can't believe it's really you, sir." "It is."

"I thought the courier was mad when he grabbed me, told me to round up a company of men, and follow him to the rail yard and get aboard."

"Captain." Ely Parker stepped forward, the two exchanging salutes.

"That courier came straight from the War Department. You were, most likely, the first officer he spotted. Did you follow his orders and tell no one what you were about?"

"Yes, sir. I just rounded up my boys as ordered. I felt I should report to my colonel, but the courier showed me the dispatch with your signature on it, so I did as ordered."

"Good."

"May I ask what this is about, Major?"

"You and your men are to provide escort for the president up to Harrisburg. Absolutely no one is to know who is aboard this train. We'll stop only for water and wood. If but one man gets off the train and says a word to anyone, I'll have all of you up on court-martial before General Grant himself. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, sir," said the captain, and he nervously saluted again.

"Son, I see you have a red Maltese cross on your cap," Lincoln interrupted. "Fifth Corps?"

"Yes, sir. Capt. Thomas Chamberlain, sir, Twentieth Maine."

"You were at Union Mills and Gunpowder River."

"Actually neither, sir. Our regiment was lost at Taneytown on July 2. We were paroled and just exchanged."

"We'll talk more about that later, Captain. I'm curious to hear your story."

"Yes, sir."

"Fine, now get aboard, and let's get moving."

The captain ran back to his car, shouting at the men leaning out the windows, "Get the hell back inside."

Ely looked up and down the track. They were several miles outside of Port Deposit, the length of track empty. The fast courier boat that had delivered them to this spot was resting in the reeds, the crew watching the show. Behind them was the broad open stretch of the Susquehanna, Havre de Grace just barely visible half a dozen miles downstream on the other shore.

Wisps of fog drifted on the river, several gunboats in midstream, anchored. On the far shore a huge Confederate flag, their "unstained banner," which could, when lying flat, be mistaken for a flag of truce, was displayed from the side of a barn.

He wondered if that just might be an outpost Someone with a telescope could perhaps see what was going on here, yet another reason he had insisted that Lincoln, at least for once, not wear his distinctive top hat and black frock coat, covering himself with a cavalry poncho and a slouch cap.

The two walked to the back of the train. Without a platform it was a long step up, but Lincoln took it with ease, actually offering a hand back to the far shorter Ely, who was almost tempted to take it, but then pulled himself up. They got on board the car, which was empty except for the staff officer from the War Department who had come up several hours ahead to make the arrangements for the train.

"A good job, Major Wilkenson," Lincoln said. "All very cloak-and-dagger, something almost out of a play."

"It was the first good locomotive I could grab and get up here, sir. The engineer says she'll make sixty miles to the hour on the good track up toward Chester. The road ahead is being cleared, with the report there's several wounded generals on board."

"Very good."

"I'm sorry the arrangements are so spartan," Wilkenson said, gesturing around the car.

It was clear that the car had seen hard use in recent weeks. The chairs were simple wood; a stove stood at one end, a privy cabin at the other. As the major looked about, he noticed dark stains on the floor and many of the seats, and there was a faint odor of decay.

"Sorry, sir,"- Wilkenson said. "It just came back from taking wounded up to Wilmington, still hasn't been fully scrubbed out, but it was all I could find."

"That's no problem," Lincoln said softly.

The train lurched, whistle shrieking. After looking for a relatively clean seat, Lincoln sat down. He motioned for Ely to sit across from him.

Wilkenson stood silent for a few seconds, then said he was going forward to check with the engineer and come back with some rations.

For Ely it was a moment to finally sit back, one more hurdle jumped. Little had he dreamed this time yesterday that he would be escorting the president to meet Grant.

They had left Washington early in the afternoon, taking a gunboat down the Potomac and up the Chesapeake. Amazingly, they had slipped out of Washington without being noticed through a series of subterfuges and a report that the president had a mild dose of variola and had to be confined to bed and quarantine for several days.

Once aboard ship the president had retired to a cabin and within minutes was fast asleep, sleeping, in fact, for most of the journey. Ely, consumed with concern for the man he escorted, found he could not sleep.

The train was picking up speed, rails clicking, the car swaying as they went through a sweeping curve. To their right was the Susquehanna, at the moment still rebel territory on the far side.

Lincoln put his feet up on the seat and smiled.

"Now, Major, guess we have a long ride ahead. Please tell me everything about yourself, your tribe, how you came to wear the uniform."

"A long story, sir."

"We have plenty of time. You know, I sort of volunteered during the so-called Black Hawk War, nearly thirty years back. Glad as anything we didn't have to fight. Actually, my sympathies rested more with your side in that unfortunate affair."

"Well, sir, America is my country, too." Lincoln leaned over and patted him lightly on the knee. "I'm proud to hear that, Major. I wish we could all feel that way."

He leaned back, looking out the window. They were racing by an army encampment, survivors no doubt of Gunpowder River.

"So start your story, Major, and then, when you're done, I've got a few questions for you about General.Grant."

The train thundered on, racing through the switching yard that put them on the main track heading north toward Pennsylvania.

Baltimore

August 23,1863

7:00 A.M.

Wearily, Gen. Robert E. Lee swung his leg out of the stirrup. Trembling with exhaustion, he dismounted, grateful that Walter Taylor was holding his mount's bridle. He had left Traveler behind this morning to rest, borrowing an escort's mount to press the final miles into the city. The horse was feisty and skittish and had nearly thrown him when startled by a dog that had darted out of an alleyway to challenge possession of the road.

The city was quiet, provost guards out patrolling the streets, weary troops marching at route step down the main roads from the north, then turning to file west into their old encampment sites used prior to the start of the Gunpowder River campaign. The ranks were thin, thousands of men having fallen out during the last twenty-four hours from exhaustion, and again he had passed orders to deal lightly with such men.

Coming down the steps of the hotel flying the First Corps headquarters flag came Pete Longstreet. Pete had pushed on ahead at his request to ensure that the city was secure, and that no coordinated action might be coming from the Union garrison still occupying Fort McHenry down in the harbor.

"General, sir, good to see you," Pete said quietly, saluting. "Did you get some rest last night, sir?"

"Yes, actually I did."

He had stopped just south of Gunpowder River and was asleep within minutes. If he was to think this current situation through, he had to be sharper, and, besides, he felt secure with Pete heading back into the city while he slept.

"Things here in the town are secure, sir," Pete said. "Not a peep from the garrison down in the harbor."

"As I assumed. I doubt if General Grant could extend such control in a coordinated manner, but still it was a worry. Even a brief sally from the fort could have caused us problems."

"I talked with one of our citizens, a bit of an amateur spy, a minister who said he was in the fort last evening, under a pass to visit his brother, who is ill."

"He was under a pass?" Lee asked. "You know I don't like using such things for subterfuge."

"No one ordered him to do it, sir, from our army. He took it upon himself."

Lee hesitated, then nodded.

"Go on then."

"He said they were aware of Sickles being beaten, but had no word whatsoever of Grant moving." "Good."

"He said they were all rather demoralized down there. Especially with word we were coming back into the city. That's about it regarding the fort. Garrison is still several thousand strong, with reports of more troops, mostly marines in the gunboats just outside the harbor. But nothing unusual to report from that side."

"And what else, General?"

"A rider came over the South Mountains into Gettysburg just before dusk, reporting in from Chambersburg. He carried a report that strong Yankee columns were seen coming down the valley past Carlisle.

"And then a report that just came in a few minutes back. Scouts report sighting Union infantry camped last night at Dillsburg."

Lee stood silent, trying to remember the location.

"At least ten miles south of Carlisle, a route that could take them toward Hanover. Also, Custer was screening that movement."

"Any indication which corps it was?"

"Nothing on any of that, sir. They are keeping up a solid screen."

Good move on Grant's part the first day out, Lee thought. Blinds us and now moves in a shadow land to the north and west.

As they spoke they slowly walked into the hotel lobby in which Longstreet had set up. Jed Hotchkiss, the army cartographer who had ridden ahead with Longstreet, was there to greet them. A table was set up covered with maps, and Lee walked over to it, with Longstreet by his side.

"Well, Major Hotchkiss," Lee said, "I see you've-been busy again."

"Same maps as before, sir, but I thought you might want to get a look at them."

Longstreet leaned over the table, pointing toward York and then Carlisle.

"Sir," Hotchkiss began, "we know that they have a screen of cavalry, at least two divisions' worth, spread in an arc from York westward, over to here at Heidlersburg, about twenty miles north of Gettysburg. It was from Heidlersburg that our last report came in, and that outpost is now withdrawing to Hanover."

"I'll want General Stuart to start moving out a screen tomorrow, probing, across this entire front."

As he spoke he drew a line with his finger from Gettysburg eastward to the Susquehanna River.

"Tomorrow, sir?" Pete asked.

"Yes, I know," Lee replied slowly, and as he spoke he sat down, reached into his breast pocket to take out a pair of spectacles and put them on.

"Walter, my compliments to General Stuart, and please convey that order to him. Tell him I only want him to send out those regiments that he feels are relatively fresh. I fear our new rival has the jump on us on that issue. I suspect many of Grant's troopers have mounts well shod and rested, and the boys astride them as good in the saddle as our boys are. If there is to be a tangle in the next few days, I want our boys on good mounts, otherwise they'll be run down."

He was silent for a moment, staring again at the map.

By rights he should give Stuart at least a week to refit. The reshodding of one mount would only take a matter of minutes, but ten thousand? Every blacksmith and farrier in Baltimore would be busy for days with that task. Then there were the horses for the artillery, quartermaster corps, and medical corps to be tended to as well before this army could march on a campaign of maneuver that also might span a hundred miles or more in a matter of days.

I need a week, he thought, but if I wait, that will give Grant a week to do as he pleases. "For want of a nail a horseshoe was lost, for want of a horseshoe…"

"Give the cavalry precedence in reshoeing the horses and drawing provisions. They have to move first or we will be blind.

"We need two things, General Longstreet," Lee said, adjusting his spectacles as he gazed at the maps, "time to rest and time to analyze what General Grant is about to do."

He forced a smile, accepting a cup of tea from Walter, who had fetched it from the kitchen in the hotel. He blew on the china rim before taking a sip.

"Don't worry, though, gentleman. We've faced others like this before. Remember Pope coming from the West with all his boasts?"

The staff chuckled.

"Headquarters in his saddle," Taylor laughed softly, and those gathered round Lee grinned with how that inane comment had been quickly turned into a meaning other than what Pope intended.

Lee looked over at Jed Hotchkiss and from him to Walter Taylor and the staff that was beginning to come in through the door.

"Gentlemen, two favors. First, Walter, would you be so kind as to ask the owner of this establishment if I might make my headquarters here? It is convenient and directly across the street from the telegraphy station. Also, Walter, I need you to see to the placement of the men as they file in. I want them to come in and find fresh rations. There's still plenty of beef and store goods in this town. Coffee, lots of coffee, tobacco, and fresh beef mean more now than three months of back pay. The men are to have tomorrow in camp, no drills, plenty of time to rest and for church services." "I'll see to it at once, sir."

"The second thing, gentlemen. If General Longstreet and I might have some time alone."

Nothing more needed to be said. Within seconds the room was emptied except for Pete and himself. A minute later Walter came back in, offering him a key to a room on the second floor with the compliments of the owner, who said he was honored by Lee's presence. After whispering that a guard was being posted around the hotel, he withdrew.

Pete was sitting across from him, exhaustion graying his features. It had been a hard march for him, too, he could see that.

Longstreet stirred, took out a cigar, and looked over at Lee, who nodded his approval before Pete lit up.

"I think we need to have a talk, General Longstreet." "I do, too, sir." "Why so?"

"Things have changed, a lot of things." Pete fell silent.

"Go on, General, I need you to speak freely. As I told you at Gettysburg, you are my right arm. I need to hear your opinions. Your insights gave us victory in the past; I am counting on you to help give us victory again."

Pete sighed, blew out a cloud of blue smoke, and leaned forward, looking Lee in the eyes.

"Sir, they just don't stop. I thought, after Union Mills, that would force Lincoln to give in. Certainly his abolitionist friends would stand by him, but the blow we gave them that day, I thought it was the beginning of the end."

"So did I, General," Lee said wistfully.

"We did it again at Gunpowder River. In some ways that victory was even more complete than Union Mills. It finished the Army of the Potomac, once and for all."

Longstreet sat back, shaking his head.

"I don't know anymore. I just don't know. I just thought that finally they would stop coming, but here they come again."

"You knew Grant. I mean before the war." "Yes, sir." 'Tell me something about him."

"Well, sir, when I knew him, to be honest it was all rather tragic. He was a year behind me at the Point, graduating in forty-three. I knew him there as an honest sort. Didn't like to gamble, drink. A bit reserved. Curious, actually, since he didn't like the army all that much and would voice that in private. Even admitted he went to the Point simply because it was a free education. He planned to do his service afterward, then get out. The one thing he did enjoy was horsemanship. Underneath that gruff exterior there is actually a rather sensitive soul, though most would find that impossible to believe."

"This tragic side you mentioned."

"The word was he took to drink out of loneliness and despair when separated from his wife. He was, sir, a gentleman and many of the men stationed out in California after the war… well, sir, you know what I mean when it came to women out there and such. Grant wasn't one of them, and the loneliness drove him half crazy."

"That's why he left the army?"

"I think so. Also, killing just sickened him."

"As it should all of us, General Longstreet. Yet everyone says he is relentless, cold-blooded," Lee finally ventured, uncomfortable with his own thoughts.

"He is indeed that At least I'm told that. I've never seen him in combat before. But from the word in the ranks he was absolutely fearless in Mexico. He doesn't lose his nerve under pressure the way many do, that is for certain."

"And yet, after leaving the army, he did not make much of himself."

Longstreet chuckled softly.

"No, sir, he did not. Failed at most everything he did. But let me put the shoe on the other foot. How many officers do we know who were all great guns in peacetime and then failed miserably when the bullets really did begin to whine about them?" Lee smiled sadly.

"More than any of us would like to admit, especially of old comrades."

"I think Grant is suited to this new kind of war that so many talk about."

"How so?"

"He doesn't stop. He just doesn't stop. Take Shiloh, for example, or his winter campaign around Vicksburg. Takes a reversal, what most anyone else would call a defeat, he wakes up the next morning as if yesterday didn't exist, and then pushes again."

"Like you, General Longstreet."

"Yes, sir, including me, but the difference is, he can draw on reserves we can only dream of. He understands that. Back in George Washington's time, an army fought a battle, it took weeks to resupply it, months to replace the men. Grant understands how different it all is now with trains, steamboats, factories. Fight a battle, he snaps a finger, brings up five million more rounds of ammunition, ten thousand more men, and pitches in again."

Both were silent for a moment.

"He is relentless once fixed on an objective. Though sensitive to the point of illness at the sight of blood, he can stand back and let it flow. Shiloh is an example we should look at carefully, sir. He turned it into a grinding match that finally broke Beauregard."

"Yet in many ways that battle was inconclusive."

"Inconclusive only because he did not have the authority to follow up. Halleck stepped in. I dare say, if Grant had been given full authority then, he would've pushed Beauregard clear to the Gulf of Mexico and not just to Corinth."

"Halleck. Sadly, those days are over," Lee said quietly, taking a sip of his tea.

"Precisely, sir."

"What do you think that portends?"

"That Lincoln has not yet lost his nerve, not by a long shot. In a way, he's sacked perhaps two of our best friends. Halleck, as you know, was always by the book. Stanton tended to work at cross-purposes to the administration in Washington."

Longstreet slapped the table with his fist and shook his head.

"Sorry, sir. I forgot to tell you. Lincoln did indeed sack Stanton yesterday." Lee said nothing.

"Sorry. Word was out on the wires late yesterday. We have some boys who've tapped into the line from Washington that they've run across land to the Chesapeake. Stanton is out."

"Replaced by?"

"Elihu Washburne. Congressman from Illinois. The man who nominated Lincoln at the Republican convention. Perhaps more importantly he was Grant's congressman and apparently a close friend of his."

"That is news," Lee said quietly. "That means Grant has the full support of the administration. Carte blanche from now on."

"Sir, you just asked me to speak freely." "Yes, I did."

"I think it's time for us to get back across the Potomac."

"Why so?" Lee asked.

"There is nothing more to accomplish here."

"I would disagree, General Longstreet. We hold Baltimore, we still threaten Washington, we have supplies to see us clean through the spring if need be."

"Sir, may I present my case?" Longstreet asked.

"Of course, General. I need to hear what you have to say, though it does surprise me, your thought of conceding this ground without a fight, when I believe we could finally settle the issue here once and for all."

"Sir, we've destroyed the Army of the Potomac, a stated goal of our mission back in June. We've brought Maryland into the Confederacy. I think, at this point, a strategic withdrawal into northern Virginia would be prudent.

"We do a methodical and orderly withdrawal out of Baltimore now, and Grant just swings on empty air when he comes in. We also take apart the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad as we pull back, take down every bridge, burn all the rolling stock left behind, tear apart the switching yards, burn the roundhouses, and take the heavy tools and machinery.

"If we pull out now, starting tomorrow, we can take with us every locomotive in this town, tear up track to take as well, even haul some of the machinery out of the factories as we go. Escort all that as we leave, and it would be a bonanza for our railroads in the South."

Lee did not respond.

Longstreet, warming to his position, pressed forward. "Sir, you might recall all the equipment that Jackson snatched from the Baltimore and Ohio back at the start of the war. It was brilliant and gave our side locomotives we desperately needed."

Lee smiled at the memory of how, in the early days of the struggle, Jackson had pulled off a wonderful hoodwinking of the Baltimore and Ohio, convincing them that they could only run trains in convoys at certain times, but he would not interfere with their operations in Maryland. Then, when the moment was right, he had raided across the river, blocked the track, and trapped an entire convoy of locomotives, supplies, and rolling stock. The equipment had been taken into Virginia and proved essential in keeping the Southern cause alive.

"Sir. If we take all their locomotives and rolling stock, then tear everything else apart, it would cripple their logistical support for months. It'd give us a lot of breathing room once out of Maryland with nothing but the wreckage of railroads behind us. Grant's offensive would grind to a halt."

"You know I don't like wanton destruction," Lee replied. "And remember, Maryland is now on our side. We cannot abandon it so lightly, or engage in such destruction in a state that is now part of our Confederacy.

"And what of our president's orders to hold Baltimore?" Lee asked. 'To hold Maryland?"

Longstreet said nothing for a moment.

"Sir, you asked for my opinion, which means relating to the military situation, not a response to what the civilian government told us to do."

"Why the caution now, General Longstreet?"

"The cost, sir. Our total casualties have been well over sixty thousand since May. We've lost over a dozen generals, scores of regimental commanders. Some of our finest divisions have been fought to a mere shell. Pickett, Pender, Anderson, Johnson, Heth are all down to a fraction of their original strength.

"Withdraw across the Potomac, hold the fords-and in another eight weeks the campaign season will be over till spring. That will give time for the wounded to heal, to reorganize, bring regiments back up to strength. Our boys will understand it, sir. In fact, they'll welcome it."

"And yet that gives Grant time as well," Lee said. "We believe he has four corps with him at this very moment. Wait till spring and it might be six or seven corps."

"Sir, though it's not our realm, I think Secretary Benjamin would agree with me as well. It would give time for Europe to react to your victories, perhaps bring France into the picture, with luck maybe even England, too. This war is, ultimately, one in which we achieve a political victory. Either Lincoln is impeached or is voted out of office. All we need do now is hold on till one or the other happens. Lincoln is undoubtedly pushing Grant to fight. Let us not give him that opportunity, and then see what happens."

Lee said nothing, letting his gaze drop to the maps on the table.

He had originally sought Pete's advice simply to examine the moment, what needed to be done the next few days, but instead his "right arm" had opened a far broader examination: a fundamental decision of what was to come not just tomorrow but in the weeks ahead.

"I cannot withdraw," Lee said, staring at the map.

"Because of President Davis?"

"Yes, in fair part. We have been ordered to hold Maryland and Baltimore, and I must not abandon such orders lightly. There is, as well, a logic to his orders to us. If we do indeed win the peace this fall, it is essential that Maryland be part of our new nation. It will force the Federals to abandon Washington as their capital, will insure that the Chesapeake Bay is controlled by us, and give us the one major industrial center in the South. We abandon that, we abandon a major position of stability after the war is over."

"Even if, in holding, we lose all, sir?"

"We will not lose," Lee said bluntly. "General Longstreet, we will not lose."

"Sir, if I might be so bold, please enlighten me about your thinking," Longstreet replied.

"Just this, General. I see no reason to assume that an encounter with Grant will go against us. Yes, he has caught us off guard for the moment, but such is war.

"You were not with me in May, when Hooker made his move up the Rappahannock. I will confess, in private, he did catch me completely off guard with the audacity of that move. We were outnumbered, before your arrival, nearly three to one. Whichever way I turned I would be flanked, and yet we did fight our way out of that, turned the tables, and won a stunning success, thanks be to God."

"The cost, though, sir-Jackson lost, nearly twenty thousand killed or wounded."

"Yes, I know, but success we did have."

"We've paid that price twice more over these last two months. Sir, we are running dry. Defeat Grant at a cost of twenty thousand and this army will be a burned-out shell of its former self."

"I see no reason to anticipate that price," Lee said sharply. He leaned over the table and swept his hand across the map. "Grant will come at us from one of two directions and we will know what it will be within forty-eight hours.

"If he advances en masse, along the railroad, we either go for maneuver to flank or we dig in, perhaps near Relay Station, just west of here, and let him try us in the type of battle you always seek, good defensive ground for them to bleed out on."

"His other choice?" Longstreet asked softly.

"He takes the broader strategic move. Goes down the Cumberland Valley, takes Hagerstown and Harpers Ferry, then threatens to advance into Virginia or draw us westward into a fight along the South Mountain range."

"And your thoughts, sir?"

Lee sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Too early to tell. This is, after all, only the second day of maneuver for both of us. The path down the Cumberland, to gain proper position, will take him a week or more, and he knows it will give us the time that we need. The direct advance would mean a crisis in three to five days.

"I suspect that even if Grant is operating on his own initiative, Lincoln will still put his finger into his plans. After the humiliation with the Army of the Potomac, I believe Lincoln desperately needs some kind of victory as quickly as possible. He'll push for the direct assault."

"But will Grant agree to that, sir?"

"If Lincoln orders it, he has to, the same as I would have to if directly ordered by the president," Lee replied.

"One more sharp battle, another day like Union Mills, where we lured him into a fight on our ground, and we have him, and this nightmare is finished."

"One more day, sir?"

"Yes, that should do it."

Longstreet nodded.

'Then you agree with my position, Pete?" Lee asked. Longstreet forced a smile. "Sir, you command this army, and I follow orders." "But do you agree?"

"Sir, I've voiced my opinion," Longstreet replied. "But if you are confident of victory, then it is my job to help you in any way possible to achieve that."

"I will continue to weigh your suggestions, Pete," Lee replied, again using the more familiar first name. "Thank you. As I have said publicly many times these last seven weeks, your suggestion at Gettysburg that we abandon that field and go for a flanking march was the crucial element in. creating our victory at Union Mills."

"Thank you, sir. May I offer one further suggestion?"

"Certainly."

"Either way, the B and O line will be important to us. May I suggest we contract with them now to get it fully operational as far as Frederick and position some supplies, perhaps some troops and artillery there."

"It will be the first time this army has relied upon such means for direct movement on a tactical level."

"Actually, sir, it was crucial at First Manassas, and Beauregard is familiar with its uses at Corinth and also the transfer of his troops up here. It is something I believe we should have paid attention to earlier."

Lee nodded in agreement.

"You're right. We should have looked into the use of the B and O earlier. I'll ask Secretary Benjamin if he would be willing to go over to their offices."

"And one other thing, sir."

"Go on."

"Get the pontoon bridges ready. We have enough captured bridging to run a span across the Potomac. I think they should be loaded on to flatcars and perhaps moved, prepositioned, over toward Frederick."

"Now? Move them now?"

"Yes, sir."

"General Longstreet, there is a chance that a sound-enough defeat of General Grant might afford us the opportunity to think aggressively, very aggressively, indeed. Perhaps even to span the Susquehanna in pursuit. We would need that bridging material shifted north instead of west."

"Sir, if we move the bridging material west to Frederick by rail, and Grant is indeed smashed, it will take but hours for us to return it to Baltimore."

"Why this insistence, General Longstreet?"

"Call it an ace up the sleeve, sir. If things should indeed go wrong, right now we are reliant on but several fords to disengage our army and pull back into Virginia. The pontoon bridges give us greater flexibility, and frankly, sir, I'd like us to have that extra ace."

Lee was silent for a moment.

"Sending them west, might that not give the wrong message to some, that we are preparing to evacuate?"

"If it does, so what, sir? Perhaps it might embolden Grant to move rashly and make a mistake. Either way, those pontoons are a nightmare to move. We all know that. It took Burnside weeks just to bring them up fifty miles last November and cost him the opportunity to get across the Rappahannock before we were into position. I urge you, sir, move them now."

Lee finally nodded in agreement.

"Who is in charge of them?"

"A Maj. Zachariah Cruickshank. He use to be in command of First Corps' supply train. After we captured the pontoons from the Yankees at Union Mills I transferred to him the responsibility for their movement." 'Transferred? Why?"

"Well, sir, he has a bit of a problem with the bottle. A profane man as well, but one of the best men for running wagons I ever saw. It's just he got a bit insubordinate with me a few times when drunk, and I felt it was best that we distanced ourselves for his good and mine."

"Insubordinate to you?"

Longstreet smiled.

"I'd rather not repeat what he said, sir. But regardless of that, like I said, he's a man who can be relied on when it comes to moving wagons." 'Tell this profane major to go down to the rail yards, find the right people there, and prepare to load for a move to Frederick."

"Yes, sir."

"But do not misinterpret this caution, General Longstreet. I want all my generals to realize and to know in their hearts that I plan to seek out General Grant, meet him in the field, and in one sharp action defeat him as we have defeated all others who have come against us."

"Of course, sir," Longstreet said quietly.