Brig. Gen. Herman Haupt, Commander, U.S. Military Railroads, stepped off the engine cab before the train had skidded to a stop. Exhausted, he stretched, his back popping as he shifted from side to side. At forty-six he was beginning to show the first signs of middle-age portliness. His flowing brown beard was increasingly flecked with gray, and as was so typical of the army, he was wearing a uniform rumpled and stained from too many days of not changing. The uniform was pockmarked with cinder burns, his face streaked with grease and dirt.
The ride up from Baltimore had been a bone-jarring, five-hour ordeal, just to cover thirty miles of track. The track laying of the Western Maryland Railroad was typical of such lines: Slap the rails down as quickly as possible, and the hell with grading and curve radius. Just get the damn thing up and running, then worry later about smoothing things out.
There were no telegraph, no sidings, no fuel or water for the locomotives. He looked around at the small depot of Westminster and the utter chaos that confronted him. Meade had ordered all supply wagons for the Army of the Potomac to concentrate at this point, and it was his job to open up the rail line and organize a depot
Several miles outside the town, the train had started to pass open fields packed with wagons… thousands of them.
They were jammed into pastures, wheat fields, cornfields and here in the town the main street was jammed solid. Five thousand wagons, ambulances, reserve artillery limbers, and tens of thousands of mules. Their braying was a maddening cacophony that most likely could be heard clear back to Baltimore.
The sight of it all, the noise, were a shock; and if it wasn't for his innate sense of duty, he would have succumbed to the temptation to simply get back on the train and let someone else try to sort all of this out
A scattering of infantry was standing about, obviously bored with their duty, though at the sight of a general getting off the train they started to stiffen up a bit in a vain attempt to look soldierly. Civilians milled about gawking at the jam of wagons, and at the sight of him a delegation swooped down.
He turned and tried to get away, but they were upon him.
"General, are you in charge here?" a portly gentleman wearing a scarlet vest shouted, following after him.
He tried to continue on, walking back along the train, as if inspecting the wheels.
"General!"
Exasperated, he turned. It was always the same: Self-important civilians, who on one hand were damn grateful that the army was there to protect them, but in a heartbeat were ready to switch their song and start complaining.
"I'm in command of the military railroads supporting the army," Herman replied wearily.
"This, sir, is the property of the Western Maryland Railroad," the loudmouthed civilian replied sharply.
"The army has seized this line," Herman replied coolly. "It will be returned to civilian control once this campaign is concluded."
"Well, General, there are a few things we need to discuss. No one seems to be in control here. We had a terrible fight here two days ago, several men killed on both sides."
Terrible fight? This pompous ass should have been at Second Manassas and seen trainloads of the wounded, blood dripping through the floorboards, as they rolled back to Alexandria; his crews vomiting as they scrubbed the cars down afterward; then sending them back to Manassas to pick up another thousand.
"The streets are clogged with your wagons," the civilian continued. "There are soldiers and mule drivers who are drunk wandering about scaring the ladies of the town, and now there's word that the rebels have whipped the Army of the Potomac up at Gettysburg and are coming this way."
Herman looked around at the self-appointed delegation and sensed that more than one of them might very well be delighted with the last statement.
"And you want me to…?" Herman asked softly.
"Straighten out this mess, General. Straighten it out"
"Precisely my intent Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do, though I would appreciate some volunteers to. help unload the supplies I've brought up with me," Herman snapped, and without waiting for a reply he stalked off.
Of course they didn't follow, but he- could hear their raised voices as they began to argue with each other.
A small knot of officers was under the awning of the depot, nervously looking toward Herman as he approached.
"Who is in command here?" Herman asked.
"Ah sir, honestly we're not sure," one of them, a colonel, replied.
That was a bad sign, Herman realized. When things were going well, there would have been an instant argument as to who was, indeed, in command; when they were going wrong, no one wanted that responsibility.
"Well then, I am in command," Herman offered, and there were no objections.
"What's the situation?" he asked.
"Sir, you've got the supply wagons of seven corps in this town. Meade passed the order this morning for the army to abandon its supply train and have them concentrate here, while the troops moved north toward Gettysburg."
'Troops here in town?"
"Hard to say. Each corps commander detailed off a couple of regiments to accompany their trains. There're a couple of companies of cavalry here, and a heavy artillery regiment out of Washington came in as well. They're hauling those big four-and-a-half-inch guns."
Herman digested the information. Troops from seven different corps. Regiments assigned were usually units that were either burned out or not of the best quality. No corps commander would detail off his best when there was a fight brewing. Six, maybe eight thousand troops wandering around here, not sure what to do next No central command at all.
"Your name?"
"Colonel Benson, One Hundred and Third New York, Twelfth Corps."
Herman studied the man for a moment He seemed alright no liquor on his breath, unlike a couple of the other men gathered about
"Fine then, Benson. You're in command of the infantry for this supply depot"
"On whose authority, General?"
"My authority and the hell with what anyone else says. I run the military railroads for the army, and you are now under my command."
"And if my corps commander recalls my unit General? Damn it all. There's a fight brewing, and we're stuck down here staring at a bunch of goddamn mules."
As if to add weight to his argument a team of mules, frightened by a blast of steam from the locomotive, took off, braying madly, dragging a wagon up onto the tracks behind the train, the wagon tipping over, mules still tied to their harnesses kicking and screaming.
"You're with me, Colonel. I want the regiments from the various corps rounded up. I'm going to need men here, a couple of thousand at least to off-load trains that will be coming up shortly. I want a defense established around this town. I was up at Hanover earlier today and damn hear became a guest of General Stuart"
At the mention of Stuart's name, the other officers started to whisper excitedly.
"That's it exactly. If the Rebs figure out what we have down here, we'll have company soon enough; and as it looks right now an old lady could shoo us out of here with a broom. So get to work. Your men can start by off-loading the hospital supplies I just brought up."
He turned away without waiting for a reply and spied more supplicants, complainers, and the annoyingly curious closing in. Swinging around the back end of the train he had just ridden up from Baltimore, he headed toward a row of parked wagons half-filled with rations and climbed up into the nearest one, drawing the back cover closed.
He was tempted to simply stretch out on the pile of cracker boxes and try to catch some sleep. It had been a mad, impetuous five days. When word had first come in that Lee was across the Potomac, he had gone from headquarters in Washington up to Harrisburg, there to examine the rail lines in case the Army of the Potomac should find itself campaigning along the Susquehanna. As the rebel army approached the capital of Pennsylvania, it was finally decided to drop the. bridges spanning that broad river, the one directly in front of the city burning even as Confederate raiders swarmed upon the opposite bank. Leaving Harrisburg, he had routed back through Reading, there stopping to confer with the governor, then to Philadelphia, then back to Baltimore and up to Hanover, nearly running into Stuart's cavalry on the way.
Hanover as a base of supply was out, with nearly twenty bridges destroyed by the raiders. Back to Baltimore once more and now here to Westminster, with rumors swirling that action had been joined at Gettysburg.
His sojourn of hundreds of miles in just five days did not strike him as anything unusual. The locomotive had changed everything. A journey that would have taken Napoleon, or even Scott in the war with Mexico, weeks to complete, could now be done in a day. This war ran on railroads, and it was his job to make sure it ran smoothly, at least up to the point where the railroad ended and the mule-drawn wagons, as ancient as the wars of Caesar, began.
Finding a lantern up at the front of the wagon, he struck a Lucifer on the side of a box of hardtack, lit the wick, and hung the lantern up. Reaching into his oversize haversack, he pulled out a small hand-sketched map of the region and spread it out on a box.
Gettysburg, of course, would be the place they'd collide. He had surmised as much back on June 28th while still in Harrisburg. A beautiful place, rolling hills, rich farmland, a good place for a defensive fight, and with its road network, a natural draw for both armies.
Once the bridges across the Susquehanna went down, Lee would inevitably turn southward, not wanting to get pinned against the west bank of the river. He needed to keep his line of communications open down the Cumberland Valley but at the same time seek out the Army of the Potomac. It would have to be somewhere between Carlisle and Westminster that the two sides would slam into each other, and Gettysburg fit the bill.
Strategy, however, was not his concern. It was railroads, the pulsing arteries of this new kind of war, that he must be concerned about; and that was why he was here at Westminster. Harrisburg as a supply depot was out now that the bridges were down. Hanover was out as well, thanks to the rebels burning most of the bridges along that line. And besides, Hanover was only twelve miles from Gettysburg and not truly secure. Only this morning he had discovered that fact when the train he was on nearly stumbled into a detachment of Confederate cavalry.
That was always the point of vulnerability for a railroad. A regiment of cavalry, in an hour, could wreak havoc that could take days to repair, even a lone bushwhacker with a crowbar could loosen a rail and take a train off the tracks. A depot, and the line behind it, had to be secure. He had to set up that secure base now. At best, the Army of the Potomac could operate for three days, perhaps five at the most, without a supply depot; but beyond that, it would get dicey.
The way this railroad was set up, it would be impossible. Impossible, however, was just the type of challenge he secretly enjoyed facing. Pulling a notepad out of his haversack, he began to jot down what was needed, ideas that had been forming on the gut-churning ride up here.
Given enough time, he'd love to put a thousand men from his Military Railroad command to work grading this line; a couple of weeks' work, however, and by that point the issue would hopefully be decided. No, focus on what can be done now.
There's not enough firewood here. Sending men out to bring in seasoned lumber for the locomotives would be problematic. A lot of good wood had most likely already been emptied out of farmers' woodpiles by the passing armies. Take it from the stockpile in the main marshaling yards for the Military Railroad at Alexandria; a couple of trainloads should see us through for the next several days. Water. There was no tank here, let alone a pump to bring the water up from the stream. We'll need to man haul it up from the creek below the depot Better get canvas buckets; a thousand should do it. He chuckled at the thought of the fat civilian hauling buckets up out of the creek. No, they'll all disappear once that kind of labor starts.
He began to jot down his list of priorities.
No telegraph to signal trains moving up and back on this single-track line. It'll take at least four to five days to string the necessary wire.
Without the telegraph and with no sidings, each train would tie the track up for hours. We must bring up extra locomotives and cars from the army depot and then put them on this line in convoys. Five trains, each with ten cars, four hours up, an hour to off-load, then three hours back. As soon as they clear the line, send up the next convoy of five trains. That will give us 150 carloads a day, 1,500 tons of rations, uniforms, ammunition, boots, fodder, grease, coal oil, leather harnesses, horseshoes, bandages, ether, crutches… all of the offerings to war produced by a thousand factories from Chicago to Bangor.
The bridges along this line will have to be surveyed, just in case Confederate raiders do get astride the line and bum them. Once measured, replacement timbers can be cut and loaded back at Alexandria, ready to be rolled up for repairs.
It will take eight hours to turn the trains around, if I can get enough men to unload them once here in Westminster. Too slow though for messages. And though it hurt his pride as a railroad man, he made a note to the War Office to retain the services of the Adam's Express Company. They had the fastest horses in the region, with riders trained to handle them. Ship a dozen horses and riders up here by the next train and use them to run messages and orders back to the nearest telegraph station outside of Baltimore and up to Meade at Gettysburg.
Ironic, he thought I actually lived there for a while, teaching college. He wondered if the battle had damaged the college or injured any of his old friends.
Next he drew up a quick report to the War Office, outlining what he had done over the last day, the damage observed to the rail line up to Hanover, and his decision to establish Westminster as the primary depot for the Army of the Potomac.
He double-checked the list of material requested, mentally comparing it to what he knew was stockpiled in the warehouses at Alexandria, already loaded aboard boxcars and flatcars.
What he was doing did not strike Herman as being all that unique. It was simply how war was now fought or should be fought with cool efficiency and the application of a nation's industry to a single goal, something that America, perhaps more than any nation in history, was now ideally suited for.
If the enemy burns a bridge, haul out the prefabricated replacement and drop it in place, and then keep the trains moving. If they burn a depot, set a new one up, as we did after Second Manassas. Just keep the tidal wave of supplies moving until finally they give up… or, he thought grimly, we lose our will.
That was impossible. He had come from a Europe that was divided, perpetually at war with itself. No, this place had to be different And once this was finished, I can go back to other things, other dreams, to run a rail line clear across the continent and then see a hundred new cities spring up in its wake.
A locomotive whistle shrieked, disturbing his thoughts. He pulled back the canvas cover of the wagon and saw that the infantry rounded up by the reluctant colonel had finished unloading the two cars filled with hospital supplies. Folding up his notes, he jumped off the back of die wagon and waded through the tangle of men, climbing up into the cab of the engine. His orderly, a captain according to the military but far more at home at the throttle of a locomotive, was busy studying the water gauge.
"Everything set Johnson? Enough wood and water to get you back down the line?"
"I think so, sir, but I tell you, this line is a hell of a mess. Not like the B and O, that's for certain."
"Make sure these get handed off," Herman said, folding up his plans and orders, jotting down addresses on the back of each.
"You staying here, sir?"
"Someone's got to get things organized around here." Johnson grinned. "Have fun, sir. It looks like a hell of a mess around here." "Not for long."
"Just don't get in any trouble like you did at Manassas. I like serving with you, sir."
Herman smiled. That had been a close shave, when the Rebs poured in behind General Pope and cut the rail line back to Washington. He had pushed a train down the line to try and find out what was going wrong and wound up getting chased by Confederate cavalry and nearly killed.
Giving Johnson his orders, Herman jumped down from the cab. Johnson eased the throttle in, bursts of smoke thumped from the stack, and with a gasping hiss the engine started to back up, pushing the two empty boxcars and wood tender behind it Someone had finally untangled the overturned wagon and mules behind the train, clearing the track. The shriek of the whistle set thousands of the noisy animals to braying, their cries echoing across the town.
Five thousand wagons, all those damn mules. Have to get that organized and quick, Haupt thought If a panic ever sets them off, it could turn into the biggest stampede in history.
The train eased around the sharp curve behind the depot and started back toward Baltimore.
Herman turned, looking around at the pile of boxes littering the side of the track, the hundreds of wagons parked in the fields and along the streets, the milling civilians, the infantry starting to drift back off into the dark.
He caught the eye of the colonel and motioned him over.
"In eight hours, trains are going to pour into this place. I need a thousand men ready to work in relays off-loading the cars. The whole timetable depends on getting the supplies off the cars as quickly as possible.
"I want a loading platform built; I'll sketch it out for you shortly. Next we need several hundred men to form a bucket brigade down to the creek. All locomotives will be topped off with water before heading back; that will be done at the same time we're unloading. The first two trains up will be loaded with firewood. They're to be unloaded and set up in piles along the side of the track. Teams of thirty men will then be assigned to each pile to load the wood on to each engine as it comes in.
"Next I'd like to get some kind of shedding up. It can be open sided, roofed with canvas, but I want the rations and ammunition properly stored. The far side of the shed should have a clear approach for wagons, which will then be loaded up. Traffic has to be sorted out and wagons cleared from the streets. They'll come in from one direction, load up, then head back out
"Finally, details to the churches, any large buildings. Hospital supplies can go in there for now. You have that?"
The colonel looked at him, obviously overwhelmed. "I'll write it all down," Herman said wearily, pulling his notepad back out
"And one final order, Colonel." "Sir?"
"A cup of coffee; in fact a whole pot if you can get it"