A steady cool rain fell from the early morning sky, the first light of dawn revealing the dark gray overcast blanketing.
Coiling mists rose up from the bottomland of Pipe Creek, blanketing the earth in a dull, impenetrable gloom Clouds above turned into fog in the valley. Everyone in the valley labored in virtual blindness. Above its fogged-in floor, gunners, who had been up most of the night, continued to labor on the barricades protecting the grand battery of 120 rifled guns. Tarpaulins were spread above caissons to protect the precious ammunition loads from moisture.
Henry paced slowly along the battery front, trailed by his dejected, wet staff. He kept looking to the south but it was still too dark; nothing could be seen of the opposite slope. All was gray and black.
The guns were spaced at fifteen-foot intervals, far too close for field operations, but he wanted a maximum concentration of firepower. Hopefully, multiple damage against his own guns from a single hit would be at a minimum. He had seized on the idea of using one caisson to provide ammunition for each two-gun section, thereby keeping the area directly behind the guns a little less crowded. The sixty caissons in place ten yards behind the guns were loaded almost exclusively with solid shot and case shot, with only a couple of rounds of canister. Once depleted, the caisson would be sent to the rear and a fresh load brought up. His orders were to keep up a sustained, rapid bombardment for two hours, set to begin at six in the morning.
The minutes ticked by as he continued to pace the line. Gunners were beginning to drop their entrenching tools, falling in around their pieces. Men looked expectantly at him. He said nothing, lost in thought, pacing the line, and now silently cursing… the mist and ground fog blanketing the valley and opposite slope. Nothing was visible.
"General Meade," one of his staff hissed.
Henry turned and saw Meade riding up, headquarters' flag hanging limp in the rain, a cavalcade of several dozen staff and hangers-on following.
Henry saluted as Meade approached.
"Goddamn it all, Hunt, what do you think?"
"Sir, I won't fire unless I can see what I'm shooting at"
"I know that but what do" you think?" Meade leaned forward in his saddle, as if by drawing a few inches closer he might penetrate the gloom.
"Sir, you know, maybe we should go in now." It was Butterfield.
Meade turned and for a moment said nothing.
"They won't expect it. With luck we'll have men on the opposite slope before they open up."
Meade half nodded, his gaze shifting to Hunt "What do you think?"
"About going in now sir?"
"Yes, now."
Henry was caught by surprise on that one. Ever since yesterday morning he had been preparing for this moment And now Meade himself was proposing a departure from the plan. But then again, it did have some merit. A surprise assault out of the mists, might turn things. But were the men ready for it? They had been told there would be the bombardment first to suppress the rebel lines.
"I think it might have merit" Henry finally replied.
'This from my artilleryman?" Meade asked.
"Sir, guns against entrenched positions… well, you saw the effect at Fredericksburg. We pounded them for hours with little effect Artillery against prepared positions is a tough job."
"The range was twice as far then."
"I know, sir."
Meade was silent again, and then finally shook his head. "Except for a few officers, none of our men have seen the layout They'll get tangled up, lost in that mist. Besides, the Rebs will hear us anyhow. I don't like the thought of them getting lost out there in the fog with the Rebs pouring it in."
Meade looked back at Hunt. "Don't you have confidence in this, Hunt?"
"I'll do the best I can, sir. Just that the element of surprise might work."
"Surprise?" Meade barked out a gruff laugh. "Goddamn, what surprise? He knows we're coming just as sure as I do. No, I want a clear field. I want every gun pouring in on them to shake them loose. I want every man to see where it is he's going. I did that at Fredericksburg. My division was the only one that got into their lines, and I would have broken them if that damned ass Burnside had supported me."
He fixed Hunt with an angry gaze. "If I could do it at Fredericksburg with a division, I'll do it here today with four corps going in. You open up, Hunt when you can see the bastards. I'll leave that up to you. And you tell me as well when it is time to go in."
"Sir?"
"Do you have any problems with that?"
"Sir, it's not for me to judge when to go in. I can only advise as to the effect of my bombardment. But the order to go in or not, well, sir, that's up to you."
"Just do what I order you to do, Hunt" Meade snapped, and without comment he rode on.
Henry shook his head. There was no sense in arguing about protocol now.
Leaning against the wheel of a ten-pound Parrott gun, he waited for the mist to clear.