Riding into the town square, Lee edged Traveler around a line of ambulances clogging the Hanover Road. Torches and lanterns hanging from porches cast a flickering glare on the chaos of vehicles, artillery limbers, dead horses, and a column of troops trying to snake their way through the confusion, heading to the skirmish line on the south side of town.
Dozens of civilians were out in the street many of them women. He remembered an old saying that when one became a parent all boys become your children. He paused for a second, looking down at an elderly woman reading a Bible to a tattered barefoot soldier, shirt gone, bloody, bandages wrapped around his stomach. The boy was in shock, trembling like a leaf, head resting on her lap. She paused, looking up. There was no hatred or anger, only an infinite sadness in her eyes, and he wondered if her own son was at this moment digging in on that hill south of town. He saluted and rode on.
A smattering of musket fire rippled from the crest of the hill, followed seconds later by the flash of artillery. A shell fluttered over the square, men pausing, looking up. A wounded soldier, eyes bandaged, started to scream hysterically until his comrades quieted him down.
"Walter?'
"Here, sir."
"Flag of trace. Send someone up to that hill. Offer my compliments to General Hancock and please tell him that this town is a hospital area. There are civilians here, and many of their own wounded as well. Also, we wish to remove our wounded from the front of the hill. Ask for a ceasefire till dawn." "Sir?"
Lee looked over at him.
"Sir, that is a concession to them, an admission of defeat."
"Just do it I'll not have these people suffer anymore over a foolish point of military protocol."
Walter saluted, turning back, shouting for an aide.
Was it a defeat? Lee asked himself.
Experience had long ago taught him that in the rear of a battle defeat and victory often looked the same. In the center of the square he paused, looking again to the hill, illuminated by the moon, which shown brightly overhead.
Defeat? Not possible, not with this army. They've checked us for the moment but in the morning we shall play a different tune.
He opened his jacket and pulled out his watch. It was time for the staff meeting, nearly midnight
He turned north, riding the short distance to the railroad station that had been designated as headquarters for the army, passing through the line of dismounted cavalry who formed a cordon around the low, single-story brick building. Dozens of horses were tethered or held by orderlies, nearly blocking the entry. The low buzz of conversation stilled at his approach, heads bobbing up, young fresh-faced privates dressed in homespun, staff lieutenants, some of them still sporting finely tailored uniforms of gray, battle-stained brigade commanders, all of them stood silent
He could sense the mood. They were exhausted. It had, after all, been a very long day, and the night was now half-gone. It had been a day that had exploded with high hopes and triumph and closed with bitterness.
His gaze swept them, each of the men stiffening slightly when they sensed that his eyes were upon them.
I could order them in now, right now, he realized… and they would do it I order men to die and they do not hesitate;
they go forth gladly, eager to be the first to fling themselves into the dark mist If they trust all in me, my God, I must not fail them. I must not
Slowly he dismounted, someone taking Traveler's bridle. He patted Traveler affectionately. "See that he has water and something to eat" Lee whispered. "A pleasure, sir."
Lee caught the boy's eyes, smiled. Again the reverent look. He wanted to pause, to ask the boy who he was, where he came from, what regiment he served with. No time for that now. I know what has to be done, and it's time to get to it
He stepped up onto the siding platform, past the sentries flanking the open doors, and into the waiting room of the station.
A table, a fine dining room table, most likely dragged over from the hotel across the street filled the center of the room, maps spread out upon it
The men hunched over the maps looked up as one and came to attention.
They were all here, Longstreet Ewell, Hill, Jed Hotchkiss, the chief cartographer for Jackson before his death, and finally, standing to one side, the errant Jeb Stuart His gaze held on Stuart, who stiffened and formally saluted.
"I am glad to see that you are well, General Stuart"
The room was silent He caught a glimpse of Longstreet standing to one side and could sense the barely concealed anger.
Stuart started to say something, but Lee motioned him to silence.
"General Stuart there is time enough later for us to discuss what has happened these last few days. The hour is late. I am more concerned with what will happen in the morning."
Though he spoke softly, he fixed Stuart intently with his gaze, conveying with a single look that the issue would not be forgotten. The man had to be reined in but not broken. A touch of uncertainty at this moment would be good, making him more attentive to the task ahead.
Lee stepped up to the map table, taking off his gauntlets, laying them to one side.
Spread out on the center of the table was a sketch map in Jed Hotchkiss's bold hand of the day's battlefield.
Hotchkiss cleared his throat "Sir, as you can see, this hill, the locals call it Cemetery Hill, dominates the position south of town. Their First Eleventh, and we believe a division of Twelfth Corps now occupy that hill, along with sixty pieces of artillery.
"Their left flank, extending on what is called Cemetery Ridge," and as he spoke he traced out the position, "stretches south for a mile, up to this crossroads in the middle of a peach orchard, where the road to Emmitsburg crosses a road that heads west to Fairfield."
"These two hills behind that crossroad?" Lee asked.
'1 got a brief look at them just before dark, sir. The higher of the two is wooded. It appears as if they have established a signal station atop it One of my staff saw flags up there. The lower of the two, with a rocky race, is clear cut on its western slope, facing us, and giving them an excellent field of fire. This left flank, the ridge, the crossroads, the two hills are occupied by Dan Sickles's Third Corps and Buford's division of cavalry."
Lee nodded, finger tracing out the line.
"And their right?"
"The locals call this position Culp's Hill."
"Difficult ground," Dick Ewell interrupted. "In our last attack, one of Johnson's brigades swept across the face of it. The crest was occupied by a mix of First Corps and at least a brigade from Twelfth Corps. They're digging in."
"And our own left?"
Hotchkiss looked over at Ewell.
"It's up in the air, sir," Ewell replied hurriedly in his high, piping voice. "That's where the other brigade of Johnson got tangled up. Sir, I assure you, there was a division of Union troops deploying out there beyond Grip's Hill. We even took a couple of prisoners; they're Twelfth Corps."
"Are they still there?"
Ewell was silent
"Are they?"
"I don't know, sir. The men are exhausted; it's dark. If we had a couple of regiments of cavalry, we'd soon find out" and as he spoke his gaze shifted to Stuart
"We don't have them yet," Lee replied, saying each word sharply and clearly.
"My first brigade will be up before dawn," Stuart quickly interjected.
Lee looked up. "I am not looking for excuses, gentlemen. At the moment I am seeking answers."
The room fell silent the men around him looking pale and drawn as they stood beneath the flickering light of the lanterns suspended from the ceiling.
"I need to know if my flank is secure," he announced after a long silence. "General Ewell, inform General Johnson that I wish an immediate reconnaissance to our left Inform him as well that General Stuart's men will be coming up the road from Hanover, and that they are to link up and contain any threats developing in that direction."
Ewell nodded and stepped from the room.
Lee returned his attention to the map. Left, center, or to the right?
"What else do we know?"
"Their Second and Fifth Corps are coming up," Jed continued.
"How soon?" Again silence.
"How soon?" And this time his voice was sharper and more insistent
"We have to assume they will be up by morning," Longstreet finally interjected. 'To assume otherwise would be dangerous."
"I need to know what exactly is their disposition," Lee replied coldly. "I cannot continue this operation on assumptions. I hear no mention of their Sixth Corps; that's the strongest formation in their army."
"Sir, we brushed around them two days ago down past Manchester," Stuart announced.
"Manchester?"
Jed quickly pointed to the second map on the side of the table, which covered the entire region from Harrisburg in the north down to Washington and west to the valley.
"Here, sir, twenty-five miles to the southeast, nearly halfway back to Baltimore."
'Two days ago. They could be marching behind us even now."
"No, sir," Stuart quickly replied. "My main force is in Hanover. It is, in fact, sir, securing your left flank. No one is moving to flank you."
Lee looked back up at Stuart He knew the boy was reaching for justifications, to make it appear as if he had been performing a valuable service. Indirectly he had. Sixth Corps, old John Sedgwick's command, could very well be twenty-five miles off. Sedgwick might be popular with his own people, but his performance during the Chancellorsville campaign had been abysmal. By all rights Sedgwick should have been crushed against the river after the battle at Salem Church, Lee thought Only the incompetence of my own people saved him.
Sedgwick might still be a day away.
The silence dragged out Left, right or center?
Too many unknowns with the left An advance along that axis also drags us farther away from our reserves, communications, and supplies still on the other side of the South Mountains. Any maneuver would be clearly visible from Cemetery Hill as well.
The center? The vision held for a moment the flags going up the hill, heights crowned with smoke and fire and then the final shattering volley, the men streaming back. So close, so close. And now four thousand of them dead or wounded, the town a charnel house.
My fault I thought we could push them off. Just one more push. Perhaps if it had been better coordinated, all of Johnson's brigades going in at the same time as Anderson. No matter what the cause, though, four thousand men were dead or wounded for nothing. Tomorrow the Union will have even more forces on those hills, and our casualties would be even greater. I cannot let that happen again.
He kept staring at the map, gauging, judging distances, the ticking of the clock in the stationmaster's office, the steady undercurrent of the ever-present army outside, distant conversations, a horse whinnying in pain, the echo of a pistol shot ending the cries, the creaking of wagons passing, the moaning of the wounded suffering inside the jostling ambulances.
His finger traced across the map of the battlefield one more time. "Here."
There was a stirring as the men around him leaned over.
"Our left is uncertain. Besides, deployment to that flank will be observed from the cemetery. We tried the center…" and he fell silent
"It is here, on our right These two hills. Our advance to that position will be covered by this ridge," and as he spoke ' he pointed out the crest running south from the seminary.
"Deploy by dawn, advance en echelon overlapping the two hills, cutting off this road that goes back to Taneytown. Doing that we flank Cemetery Hill and cut them off."
No one spoke and slowly he looked up, his gaze meeting Longstreet's.
Longstreet said nothing, unlit cigar clenched firmly in the comer of his mouth. He caught a flicker of a gaze from Ewell, who had come back into the room. Hill, obviously ill, eyes glazed, stared at the map, saying nothing. Jed Hotchkiss, assuming the role of a lowly major in a roomful of generals, stood with gaze unfocused, eyes locked straight ahead.
"General?" Lee asked.
Longstreet took the cigar out of his mouth and finally shook his head. "We were thinking of something different, sir."
"'We'?"
"Before you arrived here, sir." Ewell shifted uncomfortably.
Pete fished in his pocket for a match and struck it against the side of the table, puffing his cigar to life.
"You know that I always seek the advice of my commanders," Lee replied evenly. "Go ahead."
"Our opportunity for a decisive victory here is finished, sir."
Lee could feel his features flush. He lowered his eyes, looking back at the map.
"I don't see it that way, General Longstreet," he finally replied.
The tension in the room was palpable, hanging in the air like the smoke coiling up from Pete's cigar. No one dared speak.
"Do you know why we are here?" Lee finally asked. "Sir?"
"Here, gentlemen, here," and his voice rose slightly as he stabbed down with a fingertip, pointing at Hotchkiss's map of Pennsylvania and Maryland.
No one spoke.
"Three weeks ago, before we started this campaign, you know that I met with President Davis. Gentlemen, you might be filled with confidence, it is fair to say that our President is confident, but I tell you we are starting to lose this war."
"Sir, that is not true," Stuart interjected heatedly. "Those Yankees run whenever we… hit them."
"General Stuart, hear me out!"
Stuart, crestfallen, lowered his head.
"Dispatches from Richmond arrived only three days ago indicating that Vicksburg will most likely fall within the week. You've seen the newspapers we've taken up here; they're already proclaiming the victory.
"In central Tennessee, Bragg is falling back. Before the summer is out, Chattanooga will be threatened; and if that falls, Atlanta will soon be on the front line. A Union army has landed before Charleston, and even now they are closing the ring on that city.
"General Stuart, I have already heard that you captured a hundred and twenty wagons outside of Washington and that is what slowed your march."
Stuart puffed up slightly, but a glance at his commander warned him to silence.
"How desperate are we for supplies when a hundred wagons and their mules become a major prize?"
No one spoke.
"Don't you see that they can replace those wagons in a day? If tonight we had captured that accursed hill and had taken every gun on it, a day later their foundries would cast a hundred more guns to replace them. Their blockade is strangling us as surely as an executioner's rope."
Lee stepped back from the map table, arms folded, right hand absently rubbing his left shoulder. "We must finish this, and there is only one way to do it Ours is the only army of the South capable of ending it We must seek the battle of annihilation. We must bring out the Army of the Potomac and crush it No more Fredericksburgs, Chancellorsvilles, or Manassases. We must achieve a Saratoga, a Yorktown, a Waterloo."
As he spoke the last words, Lee brought his clenched fist down on the table, startling Ewell, who looked at him with surprise. -
"Defeat the Army of Potomac in detail, force the surrender of their commander, then march on Washington. Even then it will not be over. But it will turn the tide. Such a victory will break the political alliance that Lincoln is barely holding together in Congress. Perhaps, with the Lord's blessing, it would mean, as well, that England and France will at last recognize our government and move to lift the blockade."
He paused, lowering his head, attention again fixed on the map;
"That is why we are here," he whispered. "It's not to seek a half victory; it is to end this war now."
He nodded toward the open window racing the Carlisle Road.
"Those boys out there, they are not immortal. They are mere flesh and blood. They have trusted us with their lives; and we, gentlemen, God save us, are empowered to trade those lives for what we believe in. I will not trade one more life for half a goal, half a victory that simply leads to defeat.
"Realize this. We have but one good fight left in us. We lost fifteen thousand men at Chancellorsville." He hesitated, "And we lost Jackson… then we let them get away. We cannot afford one more battle like that That is why I want it to end here, today."
"General, today we lost eight thousand men," Longstreet said softly, voice calm, almost like a distant echo.
"God save us, I know."
"And taking those hills south of town, we'll lose eight thousand more."
Lee looked up at him.
"Don't you mink I know that as well? Our goal is their army, to defeat it to finish it and there will be a bloody price in the doing of it"
"We fought a good fight here today," Longstreet replied, "but the final price, sir, that last charge negated our gains."
"We smashed two of their corps," Lee replied sharply, and then hesitated. 'They also lost John Reynolds, one of their best"
"A good man, John." Hill sighed, the first words that had escaped him.
'They checked us though, sir," Pete continued, pushing in. "The last assault…"
His words trailed off. Lee knew. Pete was always talking about the defensive, of letting them attack.
"That hill, sir," Longstreet finally continued, "I couldn't have picked better ground. Sir, you spoke against just such an assault only this morning up at Cashtown, and yet we nevertheless charged into such a position just before sundown."
Lee nodded, looking at Longstreet. Yes, that was true. That morning seemed like an age ago. Yes, the land before Cashtown was indeed the same. He nodded for Pete to continue.
"I came to agree with you there, sir, back at the base of the South Mountains. Yes, we do need to seek the final battle, but what happened here this evening ended that chance for this battlefield. Sir, the Union army is concentrated here. We try to flank to that hill south of town here, and in an hour they can shift an entire corps to it, and we are faced with the same problem yet again…"
Lee started to speak, to point to the two hills south of town; but as he looked at Pete, he fell silent
Jackson is gone, he realized yet again. I always listened to Jackson, trusted him; even when he foiled before Richmond, I still listened. If this were Jackson before me, offering an objection to a plan, I would listen. I must realize that; otherwise why have commanders who can think? I know now I must take more direct control of this army. His gaze drifted to Hill, then to Ewell, then finally back to Longstreet Longstreet is now my right arm more than any other.
"Go ahead, General Longstreet"
"You were focused on that hill, that cemetery. We all were. It was so damn close. We just had to get to the other side, and we thought we could win. Sir, I, too, was caught by it I saw the tail end of the assault and for a moment I believed we would take it; then their guns, sir, their guns just shredded our lines. And, sir, those guns will still be there tomorrow morning, dug in deeper and resupplied."
Lee nodded slowly. "But I must ask, sir, what is on the other side of that hill?"
Longstreet looked over at Stuart and then to Jed Hotchkiss. "They have two lines of retreat from the far side of that hill" and as he spoke Longstreet traced out the roads back to Westminster and Taneytown. "Sir, it would have been yet another partial victory. Some, perhaps most, of the Yankees would have gotten out along those two roads. And then we would have to fight them again."
He pointed down to the map of Gettysburg and the hills south of town.
"We do this attack tomorrow; and after we take those hills, then what? The road to Baltimore will still be open, and they will retreat Even if they abandon the army's immediate supply trains, they will get out dig in someplace else, and men we'll have to attack yet again."
Lee, staring again at the map, did not speak.
"Sir, it's defensive. This ground is defensive. Beyond that there is no barrier we can pin them against to finish it Jeb and his boys might dream of a glorious sabre charge to wipe them out once we get them running, but it won't happen."
"Sir, we could finish it if you would break them up," Stuart said heatedly.
"No offense, Jeb, but you are not Murat and this is not Napoleon's army. Those days are finished. These Yankees are not a mob running away, armed with smoothbores, where they can only get one shot off before you are into them. The rifle has changed all that They might be broken, but you try and charge and they'll shred you at two hundred yards."
"We don't need a discussion of tactics now," Lee interjected.
"General Lee, I beg you to step back and take a look, a long careful look at what'you are proposing tomorrow and what will be the result even if we do take those hills."
Lee was silent gaze locked on the maps.
"Sir?"
He finally looked up.
"Most likely at this very moment General Meade is looking at nearly the same thing. He knows where we are. He knows our line of communication traces back to Chambersburg. Given that we are deep inside their territory, enough civilians have most likely slipped through to tell him that my own corps is still stretched out between Chambersburg and Cashtown, while Hill and Ewell are already up here.
"We know that Hancock was in command of that hill today. He held it He will wish to continue to hold it That is most likely what he is advising Meade to do at this very moment. We could ride out of here now, sir, go to the south end of town and listen to them digging in up there. They are digging in on Culp's Hill as well and down along the ridge that stretches to the two hills south of town.
"It's the good position; the roads leading in are good; all he has to do is dig in.
"Let him," Longstreet announced, voice becoming animated. "Then we know exactly where he is. Sir, he will pour into this point like water going down a funnel, and they will pour up die roads from here, here, and here. That sir, is what Meade will see and what Meade will do."
Lee held up his hand, a quiet gesture, not dismissive, simply indicating a wish for silence.
Again he could hear the ticking of the clock, the rattle of an ambulance passing outside the window, the first of a long train of ambulances coming down from the cemetery.
Four thousand men tonight, he thought And the price tomorrow? If it was worth it, then I would pay it; but if Pete is right would I have but a half victory here even if we did win… and at what cost?
The silence continued. His gaze locked onto the map.
The wrong decision here, and the men being carried past the window would have shed their blood for what? By attacking, does that redeem the mistake of the last charge or just add more to the bill, and without meaning, without results?
Take control back. That is what I resolved to myself back at Chambersburg three days ago. But instead this place, this ground, is now taking control of me. And that realization was fundamental and startling to him.
He noticed that someone, without comment had placed a tin cup of coffee by his side and, without taking his eyes off the map, he took the cup and sipped.
The pendulum of the clock continued to drift back and forth, measuring out the seconds with a tick-tock steadiness.
He looked up. "General Longstreet what is your proposal, sir."
Longstreet, normally so rigid in his presence, exhaled. There was no smile, just the slightest of nods, and he stepped to Lee's side.
"Sir, go south of those hills. Here," and he pointed forcefully to the sketch map, the Rocky Hill and the high, wooded hill anchoring the south of the Union line. "A mile, two or three if need be. Swing around their right, sir. Cut the Taneytown Road without a fight Move toward the Baltimore Road, here, sir, above this place, Littlestown. We do that sir, and it will dislodge them from here without a fight and then we pick the ground."
Lee nodded thoughtfully but said nothing, gaze still on the map, the soft murmur of men talking outside and the clock continuing its steady beat
As Lee studied the map, it seemed as if some lines of movement stood out sharply, like traces of light in his mind, while others faded to a distant blur. Numbers shifted and played in his mind… rates of movement which division where, supply lines, which roads were macadamized and which were but dirt lanes. And of the other side? If they are coming here, then what are their lines of communication? Where is their railhead? They always marry their line to a railhead. Where is that?
The lines on the map led to that point, and in his mind he saw other lines, as if cut with fire, radiating out from it
"Have any of our supply wagons come through the gap back to the Cumberland Valley yet?" he asked, his voice soft.
"No; sir. General Pickett is still with them," Longstreet replied, "but they have orders to start in the morning to come here."
Lee said nothing. Looking over there on the map, the road from Chambersburg down to here, that line now standing out sharp in his mind as he studied the map, then another line southward, back toward Greencastle, on the Maryland-Pennsylvania border. Another line on the map seemed to shine out now, due west to east from their railhead, to the South's base of supplies.
"Dear God," and for a moment he was startled, for the words had escaped him, a barely audible whisper, and all in the room were surprised, but none commented.
He took another sip of coffee, put the cup down, adjusted his spectacles, rubbed his eyes, then looked up at his men.
They were like a frozen tableau.
"We are fighting the wrong battle here," Lee announced, his voice steady.
"Then we flank the hills?" Longstreet asked.
"No, General Longstreet."
"Sir?"
"What you just said, sir, a few minutes ago." Lee looked over at the clock and realized that he had been lost in thought for at least ten, maybe fifteen minutes.
"And that is?" Longstreet asked quizzically.
"About them pouring into Gettysburg like water down a funnel. You are right, General Longstreet They will all be here by tomorrow morning. Though we do not know for certain the location of their Second Corps, or their Sixth Corps, that is what Meade will do; he will concentrate here and dig in. You are right in that sir, and they will be ready for us no matter where we strike here.
"Though your plan, sir, is along the right lines, I think we should be more audacious, General Longstreet" And then he traced a line across the map far to the south, Emmitsburg, Taneytown, and then finally Westminster.
"General Longstreet you spoke with great clarity just now, sir. We have all become focused on here, on this place, these roads leading to Gettysburg, these surrounding hills, and have forgotten how we have fought in the past at Chancellorsville and especially Second Manassas.
"If they are here tomorrow, what is behind them? Not just behind the hills, sir, that you suggest we flank, but farther back, ten miles, twenty miles?"
No one spoke.
"Nothing, except their supplies, which are most likely based at Westminster."
He traced his finger on the map, estimating distances, his generals gathering closer.
"Jed, how far would you estimate?" and his cartographer leaned closer to watch.
"Here at Gettysburg, back to Fairfield, then Emmitsburg, then straight to Westminster."
Jed studied the map for a moment. "Thirty-five miles, but that's a rough guess, sir."
"Jackson did over fifty in two days when he marched around them at the start of the Second Manassas campaign," Lee replied, and he chose the analogy deliberately, looking over at Longstreet
He could see that the comment hit a nerve with Longstreet, who stiffened slightly and then made direct eye contact with Lee and held it
"Westminster is their supply head; it is the closest railroad," Lee continued, still looking at Longstreet "Move toward that gain the march on them, and it will be like Jackson taking Manassas Junction. We will have their supply line and be between them and Washington. Panic will ensue.
"All of the Yankees will be concentrated here at Gettysburg. They'll have to turn around and force march back. It will be a mad tangle. That is the disadvantage this town hides. Getting in is easy; getting back out quickly, that will be a problem. And while they do that, we simply dig in and get ready to receive them."
"How are these roads?" Longstreet asked, at last breaking eye contact with Lee to look at Hotchkiss.
Lee smiled inwardly. Longstreet was rising to the challenge, the bait. It would become for him an issue of pride, to match Jackson and what was now the immortal legend.
"Emmitsburg to Taneytown to Westminster is a good pike, sir," Hotchkiss replied. "Solid bridge over Monocacy Creek."
"I crossed through Westminster, sir," Stuart quickly interjected. "Excellent roads. You could move an entire corps along them without a problem."
Lee held up his hand, indicating for everyone to remain calm. For a moment this afternoon he thought that final victory was, indeed, unfolding before Gettysburg. He realized now that if he had not launched that final, desperate evening assault he would have rejected Longstreet's reasoning, which had triggered this new line of thought, believing that come dawn the fight could be pressed to a successful conclusion on this ground. He knew now that Longstreet, without a doubt, was right Today, exactly one year later, he had fought Malvern Hill here at Gettysburg on July 1st. He would never make that mistake again.
The battle here at Gettysburg was finished.
"We turn this back into a battle of maneuver, gentlemen, the thing we have always done best the thing that our opponents have never mastered. But let me say it before all of you quite clearly. I am not seeking a half victory. By abandoning this field, some will see that as an admission of defeat something we have never yet done, completely abandon a field. In so doing we return to a war of maneuver. We cut their line of supply while at the same time continuing to secure our own line of supply by moving our wagon trains back down to Greencastle. The ultimate goal must be to force the Army of the Potomac to territory that we choose and then fight a battle to finish this once and for all."
He looked carefully at each one in turn. 'That is what I will expect from you, what our country expects from all of us, and nothing less is acceptable. We are here to win not just a battle."
He paused for a moment
"We are here to win a war."
He looked around the room. Ewell's gaze seemed a bit distant; most likely he was still in shock after the debacle before Cemetery Hill, but Longstreet Stuart and even Hill had stirred. In their eyes was that light, that terrible fire he had seen before in men anticipating battle and knew could blaze within him as well.
There was a final gaze back at the map of Gettysburg, then over to the other map, his glance catching a creek north of Westminster… Pipe Creek.
He took a deep breath and pushed the map of Gettysburg aside.
Perhaps the fate of our nation rests on what I've just done here, he thought, but that thought held only for a moment until finally, like the map, he pushed it aside as well. Such thoughts, at such moments, could only serve to cripple one's will, and there was a campaign to be planned.