'Sir? General, sir, we're here."
Startled by the gentle touch on his shoulder, General Lee sat up, momentarily confused. He saw Walter Taylor, silhouetted by the twilight to the west, leaning over him. "Where?"
"I think it's called Frizzelburg, sir," and Walter chuckled softly. "If someone tries to pin that name on this battle, sir… well, I hope you call it something else."
Lee smiled and stifled a yawn. The canvas sides of the ambulance had been pulled down in order to give him some privacy on the ride down from Taneytown. He barely remembered leaving the burning town after sending a swift courier ahead to arrange a meeting with Longstreet.
"Are you feeling all right sir?" Walter asked.
'Tine, Walter, just fine."
It was a lie of course. What happened after the Texans had rallied and then, moments later, Pickett had come crashing in on the flank was a blur. He remembered Walter riding up, triumphal, exclaiming that hundreds of prisoners had been taken and the Union troops were falling back in disorder.
Shortly after that he passed out He remembered awaking on the broad veranda of the Antrim, anxious staff gathered round, a doctor leaning over him, listening to his heart through a hollow wooden tube. For a moment there had been a sense of panic, that the attack he had suffered during the winter had come back.
"Heat and exhaustion," was the doctor's prognosis, along with an order for a day of bed rest in a cool room.
Absurd.
He agreed to two hours of rest, a sofa being dragged out of the Antrim and set up on the porch so that he might have a cooling breeze. A drink of cool lemonade made him nauseous, but he managed to keep it down, and then reluctantly took a glass of Madeira on the doctor's orders to settle his nerves.
The battle was turned over to Ewell, who pressed the enemy back onto the road to Littlestown before the fight simply gave out, both sides equally exhausted after a six-hour struggle in the boiling heat
Yet another half victory, he thought. We should have completely enveloped the Fifth; now they will have the night to dig in, perhaps be reinforced. Yet again he sensed that Ewell had not pushed when he should have.
The doctor and Walter had strongly objected to his desire to come down to Westminster-to meet with Longstreet, but it had to be done, though he was glad for the compromise of riding in an ambulance and the suggestion that Longstreet come part of the way to meet him here.
Walter unlatched the back gate of the ambulance and offered a helping hand, which Lee refused. He must not let the men think he was weak. Before sliding out, he buttoned his uniform, wiped the sweat from his brow, and put on his hat, a straw flattop with a broad brim, the one concession he had publicly made to the heat
As he stood up, the vertigo returned and he swayed for a few seconds, reaching out to rest a hand on the wheel of the ambulance and then withdrawing it Too many were watching. The men must not have the slightest doubt the slightest fear as to his well-being. Too many men had died back at Taneytown to protect him, and too much now depended on the men believing in him. They drew their strength from his strength, and there could be no doubts in a battle like this.
Staff and some cavalry were setting up a large wall tent on the front lawn of a small church. Several pews had been brought out and set in a horseshoe around the front of the tent. Smoke was curling up from a blacksmith shop alongside the church, a team of artillerymen working to reset the rim on a wheel. At the sight of Lee, they stopped their work and stood in respectful silence.
Lee recognized Porter Alexander, Longstreet's chief of artillery, and Porter saluted.
"I came on ahead, sir," Porter said. "General Longstreet is coming here as fast as he can."
"Thank you, Colonel. And all is well with you?"
"Yes, sir. A tough fight today, but we did well."
"I am glad to see you are well."
Porter nodded. Looking into Lee's eyes, he started to say something and then just simply smiled awkwardly.
A black cook was already tending the fire burning before the tent and circle of pews. As Lee approached, he stood up, offering a cup of tea in an earthenware mug, which Lee gratefully took, nodding his thanks.
He sat down on one of the pews and then caught the attention of a cavalry captain, who seemed to be in charge of the detail setting up camp.
"Captain, did you get permission to borrow these pews and tables?"
"Sir?"
"Permission from the minister or sexton?"
"Sir, ahh, I couldn't find them."
"Then please do so and at once. Otherwise, take them back in. We do not steal from churches."
The captain looked around exasperated, then sharply motioned for a sergeant and a couple of privates to find the minister. They ran off.
Lee stood up and walked over to the blacksmith shop. The artillerymen came to rigid attention at his approach.
"Stand at ease, men."
The artillerymen drew back, looking nervously at each other.
"Were you in action today?" Lee asked. "Yes, sir," a corporal replied, his skin so fair that it was blistered and peeling from the harsh sun. "Where?"
"Sir, in front of Westminster. One of our guns got this here wheel knocked off by a shell. Cap'n sent us back here to get it fixed since we can't find our forge wagon."
Lee, half listening, nodded.
Hie smell of the forge was somehow comforting, clean charcoal, hot iron; it triggered a memory, but he wasn't sure what of; of childhood perhaps. It was soothing somehow.
He could see that he was making the men uncomfortable by his presence, and saying, "Carry on," he turned away, walking, sipping the tea that was flavored with honey, breathing in the clean air of a hot summer evening, rich with the smells of pasture, fields, and woods.
Twilight was deepening. All was quiet except for the movement of a column of troops on the road nearby. The men moved slowly, no banter or high spirits. They were exhausted, staggering on, turning north to move up toward the frontline.
Since he was standing in the shadows, they did not notice him. He was grateful for that. It gave him a moment to be alone, to clear his thoughts.
What I did today bordered on madness. It was madness, he realized. If I had led that charge, I most likely would have been killed. If I die now, in battle, or from something else, such as my heart, it might doom our cause. The burden of that realization was always something that struck a chord of fear within: the frightful responsibility of all this.
For I am a man under authority, having soldiers under me: and I say to this man, Go, and he goeth, and to another, Come, and he cometh…
As a boy I thrilled to hear the stories of Washington, my father beside him, he thought I never realized the burden, the weight bearing down on Washington's soul that if but one mistake was made the dream of the Republic would die.
And the men, merciful God, the men. That sergeant I could have drawn my revolver, pointed it at his head, and still, for my sake, he would have hung onto the bridle, letting me kill him before he would let go, doing that to protect me.
He lowered his head. "Do not let me fail them, O Lord," he whispered. "For their sake, not mine, let me not lead them astray."
A pot clattered behind him, and he looked over his shoulder. The black servant had accidentally spilled a coffeepot A couple of the men laughed, one in a whisper vilely swore at the cook, and the poor man lowered his head.
And what of him? Is this the reason we fight? To keep him in bondage? If so, what would God say of our cause?
He pushed that thought aside. He had reasoned it out long before; at least he thought he had. When this war is over, then perhaps this scourge upon our souls can be addressed. Those around him at headquarters knew it was a subject not to be discussed; the higher ideal of fighting for the Constitution, for the right of states against the usurpation of the central government was the cause. Yet in his heart he knew that for some, especially the wealthy planters and men of ignorance who could only feel superior when another was suppressed, slavery was indeed their root cause; and in the end that root would have to be torn out
He shook his head. He had to stay focused; to ponder on such imponderables would take what little strength he had, divert him for all that must be done; otherwise, yet again this sacrifice of the last three days, on both sides, would be. in vain.
He looked eastward. There was a glow in the darkening sky. The reports of what had happened in Westminster were frightful. Half of the village had burned to the ground, dozens of civilians dead or injured in the conflagration. Burning along with it he was told, were millions of dollars of precious supplies. Yet even then, in spite of the destruction, millions more had been captured. The Union army was so well supplied that even the leftovers seemed amazing to the men of the Army of Northern Virginia.
Two of McLaws's brigades were still sorting it out, but reports were that over two thousand wagons had been captured along with their teams and the contents within those wagons, limbers, ambulances, and carts. A quartermaster with McLaws had sent up a written report that Taylor had read off to him just before they had left Taneytown: a pontoon train; 50 wagons loaded with precious shovels, picks, and other tools; 250 wagons of rifle ammunition; 200 limber chests of artillery ammunition; wagons loaded with boots, uniforms, champagne, medical supplies, canned milk, tobacco, cartridge boxes, belts, socks, a virtual cornucopia for his army, which just three months back was on the edge of starvation because less than half a dozen trainloads of food a day could be delivered to the front lines at Fredericksburg.
To think of all that was destroyed and yet so much remained to be taken, a treasure trove far exceeding what Jackson had taken the summer before at Manassas.
And they will replace it, he thought. The only question left, the only way he knew he could win, was to break their resolve here, to deal them so shattering a defeat that though they could make the weapons of war, there would be no one left with the moral strength and will to wield them. That was the only way victory could be achieved, though it would mean that many a boy on the other side of the stream dividing them that night would be dead by tomorrow.
He thought of the week before Chancellorsville, a cool spring evening, and how a Yankee band serenaded his men, until both sides stood along the banks of the Rappahannock, laughing, sharing songs, and then all together singing "Home Sweet Home," most of them dissolving into tears.
We must win the war, but in so doing we cannot shatter the peace, so poisoning the common well of our shared heritage that the hatred on both sides will burn for a hundred years. Win or lose, if this war continues, that might happen nevertheless. That is yet another reason it has to end here,
he thought
Win it here. I must steel myself for that, even if it kills me a day later, as I thought it might this afternoon. Defeat them and in so doing save lives and bring this brutality to a close before it consumes us all, North and South.
The twilight deepened Flashes of light on the western horizon caught his attention. He stiffened and focused toward the west, and then he relaxed; thunderstorms, not gunfire.
A first hint of coolness wafted around him, drifting across the fields, a gende breath of wind carrying the scent of fresh-mown hay. He sighed, letting the moment settle his nerves.
"General Lee?"
It was Walter, coming out of the shadows. "Yes."
"General Longstreet is coming in." "Yes. Thank you, Walter."
He headed back toward the tent The cavalry captain stepped before him and saluted. "Sir, the minister for this church; we found him."
Lee nodded.
"And?"
"He gave us permission, sir. Said he was a Southern man and would be honored."
"Thank you, Captain, and in the future, always check first When we are finished here, make sure everything is returned to its proper place."
"Yes, sir."
That detail taken care of, Lee went back to the fire in front of the tent and settled down on one of die pews. The straight hard back of it was somehow comforting, a reminder of more peaceful times.
He caught the eye of the cook and handed back his earthen mug.
"It was very good. Could you please pour another cup? And I think General Longstreet will want one as well." As he spoke softly, he looked sharply at the trooper who had sworn at the cook. The trooper dropped his gaze and turned away.
Taking the refilled mug, Lee stood up as Longstreet approached, trailed by his staff, all of them dust-covered, hollow-eyed. The two exchanged salutes, Longstreet taking the mug offered by the cook, who nervously withdrew.
'Tell me everything, General," Lee said, motioning for the two of them to sit down on one of the pews by the fire.
Longstreet all but collapsed and leaned back for a moment, stretching, looking up at the sky. "Hancock attacked at midday. Almost overran our position, then withdrew. If he had pressed harder, he might have taken it. I only had two brigades up at that point; he hit with all three of his divisions."
"Winning with those odds; then it must be an excellent position," Lee interjected. Longstreet nodded.
"It seems that a couple of officers with Meade's staff had surveyed the ground on the morning of the first Meade was thinking of establishing his line there before he got drawn into Gettysburg."
"Which officersr
"Gouvenor Warren and Henry Hunt" Lee smiled sadly.
"I remember Hunt from New York. Very good man."
He fell silent Yes, Hunt knew good ground. Malvern Hill a year ago was proof of that
"I've had my people out examining the south bank of the stream all day. Before coming here I rode most of it myself. Sir, it's highly defensible. The creek, locals call it Pipe Creek, is open bottomland, in some places a quarter-mile wide and flat The land slopes up sharply on our side. The right flank is very secure. There's a millpond blocking the approach, and then the creek curves back to the south and southeast with a very high ridge looking down on it Most all of the countryside is clear cut to feed several mills and forges along the creek. Open fields of fire along most of the front
'The other side, they have some advantage. At a number of points the land on their side is higher, fine positions for massed batteries."
"The range?"
"Eight hundred to twelve hundred yards at a couple of points."
Lee nodded.
"I didn't get across the creek, but locals tell me that there's a fairly decent road behind the ridge, perfect for them to shift troops to one flank or the other and to keep men concealed until they attack."
"And you believe they will attack?"
Longstreet took a sip of the tea and set the mug down on die ground. He leaned over, hands clasped, gazing at the fire. "They have to."
"I have my reasons to believe so, General," Lee said. 'Tell me yours."
"Meade will be forced to. We trumped him these last two days. He's new in command. Communications with Washington are most likely still down for him, though a courier might have slipped past Stuart by now and gotten in. If so, that courier will describe what is most likely a mad panic in Baltimore and Washington."
Longstreet chuckled sadly and, lifting up the mug, took another drink.
"First off, he'll be ordered to break through at any cost, an order he cannot deny or refuse. Second, he is new in command. If he allows us to achieve what we did without a fight, he'll be branded an incompetent and a coward. If he turns back, retreats toward York or Harrisburg, he will definitely be branded a coward and relieved of command. Therefore he will attack."
"What would you do if you were Meade?" Lee asked.
Again the sad chuckle. "I'd retreat"
What would I do? Lee wondered. There was a flash of arrogance, a sense that he never would have allowed this to happen in the first place. Then again, I did attack frontally at Gettysburg two days ago and was within a hairsbreadth of doing it again the following morning, until Pete talked me out of it. Don't be so quick to judge.
"I believe he will attack come dawn," Lee said.
"I do too."
"What will he have?"
"I know that Second Corps is there. Additional troops were spotted on the flank of Second, a skirmisher reporting he recognized Slocum commanding the Twelfth Corps riding along the line."
"The Fifth attacked in front of Taneytown today" Lee interjected.
"I heard."
Longstreet looked at him, and he flushed slightly. Most likely word of the incident with the Texans had spread.
"I understand Pickett did it right this time."
"Masterful," Lee replied. "If it hadn't been for one regiment holding out, diverting Armistead, we might have bagged the lot."
"Sir, that still leaves four of their corps unaccounted for."
"Where you are, the road toward Westminster, that's where you will see them next."
"You mean Union Mills."
"Yes, where the road crosses Pipe Creek. That's what he'll drive for."
"You expect everything then on that flank?" Longstreet asked, cradling the mug of tea and then taking another sip.
"Yes."
"What about Taneytown?"
"If his intent had truly been to try and cut our flanking march, the time to act was this time yesterday. Meade sent down only one corps, and I suspect that the commander of that corps took upon himself the responsibility of hitting as hard as he did. If he had been backed up by another corps, he'd have cut us apart today.
"No," Lee continued, 'Taneytown is not his focus. It's Union Mills."
'Tomorrow then?"
"Five corps most likely. Maybe one in reserve or back even at Gettysburg. The last report from Stuart, dated at noon today, reported a mass movement of troops on the road from Gettysburg toward Westminster. But some infantry, Stuart identified it as Eleventh Corps, remains at Gettysburg and still holds the high ground there." "And what of Stuart, sir?"
"He's doing his tasks as ordered. He continues to shadow Gettysburg, but reports, as well, that he has heavily engaged the Union cavalry on the road from Gettysburg to Hanover. The results are not conclusive, but at least he is keeping them occupied, which is all he need do at the moment."
Lee turned and looked off.
"At dawn," Lee said, his voice now cool, eyes half-closed as if he were looking off into some distant land, "they'll open with a barrage, every gun they have. Under cover of that, they'll advance. It won't be piecemeal, as at Fredericksburg. I suspect Meade is still bitter about that fight, how he almost broke through when commanding his division there but wasn't backed up. Meade will have time to think about this, and he will come in with everything at once. His goal will be to overwhelm with sheer numbers."
Lee fell silent and like Longstreet he sipped at his tea.
"We've lost fifteen thousand men so far in this campaign," Lee whispered. "Johnson's division is shattered almost beyond repair. Hood has taken heavy losses as well. We can't afford another day of losses like the last three."
"I know that, sir. But we're dug in now."
"You'll finally have that defensive battle you've talked about so much," Lee offered.
Longstreet looked over at his commander, not sure if there was a touch of reproach in the last comment
"Your placement of men?" Lee asked.
"Two brigades of McLaws's astride the road and to the left Next is Anderson, then Pender, Pettigrew, and Early on the left Rodes is the reserve, with one of his brigades to the right of McLaws.
"Our front is about four miles, the left extending to a bend in the creek, which again refuses the flank; the land below is marshy. It's not as dense a line as I would like, roughly one rifle per foot." "Artillery?"
"Alexander has done an excellent job," and Longstreet nodded toward his artillery chief, who was gathered with the staff over by the blacksmith shop.
"He's warned me, though, that if Hunt brings up all his reserves, it will be hard going with counter-battery. We'll have somewhere around a hundred and twenty guns on the line."
"Supplies?"
"That's the good news, sir. McLaws is overseeing the movement of captured supplies up from Westminster. I believe he sent a list up to you."
Lee nodded.
"We're moving up every captured round we can lay our hands on," Longstreet continued. "Wagons loaded with shovels and entrenching tools are getting the highest priority at the moment. There's plenty of rations as well. We can stay here for a week, fighting a pitched battle throughout and still have supplies left over. In fact we would have more supplies than we have ever had before. The Union army does have its supply system mastered."
"Have one of your people draw up a detailed map for me, then have them go over it with Walter. I want place names clearly marked so there is no confusion. Major topographical features to be shown and the placement of troops indicated.
"Copies are to then go to each division commander. Communicate to McLaws as well that I want the tightest security on Westminster. Property of civilians is to be protected and aid given to those displaced and injured. Any soldier who violates the law will be dealt with harshly, swiftly, and publicly before the citizens of that town."
Longstreet nodded in agreement
"I want a list of those civilians who died. Personal letters of regret signed by me will be sent to each of their families, along with offers of compensation. I'll not have the Northern press blame us for that tragedy or lay accusations of abuse on us."
"The Yankees started that fire, sir."
"Yes, but it is we who now hold that town."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm establishing my headquarters here. That will put me equidistant between the two wings of the army." "Sir, regarding the arrangement of troops." "Yes?"
'Two of the divisions of my corps are on the left I have units from Hill and Ewell mixed in together on the right The placement was haphazard in a way without regard to unit designations."
"You filled them in as needed," Lee replied.
"Yes, sir. There's no way to sort it out now. Its just that…" and his voice trailed off.
In the darkness he took another long sip on the mug of tea, nearly draining it
Lee sighed.
"General Longstreet though it is not official, I have decided, at least for this moment to relieve General Hill of his responsibilities without relieving him of his command."
"Sir?"
"He is sick."
Lee said nothing more, but his distaste for the origin of the illness was obvious in his tone of voice.
'For the remainder of this campaign, you shall command the right wing centered at Union Mills comprised of the divisions just described. Ewell will command the left centered on Taneytown, and Stuart will command the forces north of the Union army."
"Early might not like it" Longstreet offered.
The dislike between Longstreet and Early was a barely concealed secret. Several of the division commanders who had served under Jackson looked upon Longstreet as a slow plodder.
Lee slapped the side of the pew with an open hand. "I don't care who likes or dislikes it!" he snapped. "We are here to win this battle. Everything else, likes, dislikes, vanity, and pride, are to be left behind. If someone disagrees with that, I will hand them their discharge and they can go home. Do I make myself clear, General?" "Yes, sir."
The outburst was loud enough that the staff who had been standing at a respectful distance stiffened, hearing every word. Good, it was theatrics, but at times a general needed to resort to that
"I give you authority to relieve any division commander who does not comply with your orders"-he hesitated for a moment-"as I would relieve you as well, General Longstreet if you did not comply with mine."
"Yes, sir."
He caught the sense of surprise and even a touch of resentment in Longstreet's "Yes, sir." Good, let everyone standing in the shadows hear this exchange as well.
It was something he had realized back in Chambersburg less than a week ago. If this campaign was to be won, ultimately it would be on his shoulders whether it was indeed won or lost He must seize firm control. There could be no moment of hesitation, no questioning, no confusion. An army must have a single sense of purpose and mission, deriving from its commander clear down to the lowest mule driver or cook. If not when the crisis came, someone would shrink back and in so doing ten thousand would die for yet another hollow victory, or worse, a bitter defeat
"Then we understand each other, General?"
"Yes, sir."
"Fine then." Lee slowly stood up, indicating that the interview was finishing.
"Ewell will command the left wing of Pickett, Johnson, and Hood. Johnson's division is fought out; Hood took a rough beating as well. Therefore, Pickett will be the vanguard of maneuvers when the time comes."
"Your intentions with him, sir?"
Lee smiled. "I'll decide that in due course, and I may go with him when the time comes. The left is the element of maneuver, and you are the base of maneuver. You must hold and defeat the vast bulk of the Union army when it attacks. After that, we will flank it and force its collapse. Then Stuart will round up the remnants as they flee from us.
'They must not be allowed to reform," Lee said, with a sharp emphasis.
He said no more. He had learned something from Jackson, who was infamous for his sense of security. Ever since the lost orders before Sharpsburg, dropped by either a courier, or perhaps even a general, and recovered by a Union soldier, he was learning to be more cautious. An overheard word, a staff officer boasting in front of a civilian, upon such things battles often turned, as it had, indeed, at Sharpsburg.
"Come tomorrow," Lee said. "Now, General, a suggestion for both of us that I know my young Colonel Taylor would approve of, and that is sleep. We both need our strength for tomorrow."
Longstreet nodded in agreement
"I'll leave Alexander and Venable here to review the map with Taylor," Longstreet announced. "My headquarters will be on the lines above Union Mills."
"God be with you, General," Lee said.
The two saluted and Longstreet disappeared into the shadows.
Walter came up and Lee quickly reviewed what needed to be done. "I'm sorry, Walter; I know you are even more weary man I."
Walter smiled. "Sir, to be frank, and no disrespect intended, but I am half your age. All of us wish that you would just get some sleep."
Lee nodded; again the weariness.
Without comment he retired to the privacy of his tent His cot was already set up within. He removed his jacket and hat and sat down on the cot with a muffled groan. He tried to struggle with his boots but then gave up, not wishing to call for someone to help. Slipping off the cot he knelt offering his evening prayer, thinking of his boy in a Union prison, his wife in Richmond, his daughter lost and in the warm clay of North Carolina, and all the boys he had seen fall this day, July 3,1863.
Did I do the right thing today? he thought Dear God, I hope so. It could have been more, far more, but then I must know it could have been different, an ending of dreams rather than a hope that it might soon end in victory.
Lying back, he stared at the ceiling of the tent On the outside of the canvas several fireflies had alighted, their soft golden green glow winking on and off. Katydids and crickets chirped outside, mingling with the sound of whispered talking, a horse snickering, a banjo in the distance, and surprisingly, some laughter.
Tomorrow, tomorrow is the Fourth of July, he thought. I hope that is not a bad omen. We break the Union on the birthday of its founding. God grant us strength.
A moment later there was a gentle knock on the tent pole.
"Sir. General, sir?" It was the black cook, bearing a plate with dinner.
Lee was asleep, and the old man quietly withdrew.