"General Lee?"
It was a courier from Ewell, his inquiry a whisper.
Walter, who had fallen asleep on one of the pews in front of the tent, half opened his eyes and sat up, putting a finger to his lips.
"He's asleep," Walter whispered, pointing to the tent behind him.
"I've got a dispatch from Ewell." "I'll take it."
"I was told to bring a reply."
"He needs his sleep," Walter hissed softly. "Now wait over there."
He pointed toward the blacksmith shop, where many of the staff had sought shelter during the night His own orders had been strict and without compromise. Unless the entire operation was going to hell, Lee was not to be disturbed. Sentries had been posted along the road ordering strict silence for everyone who passed during the night
He then posted himself in front of Lee's tent the cook first helping him to set up a tarpover the pews to at least give him some shelter.
He unfolded the dispatch. Ewell was reporting that the road back from Taneytown had been cut a brigade of Union cavalry from the south taking Emmitsburg.
Walter thought about it for the moment. Their supply trains were parked over the mountain at Greehcastle, protected by two brigades of cavalry, and would now retire back to Falling Waters on the banks of the Potomac River. That should be sufficient; besides, the captured supplies at Westminster made our own reserves look miniscule in comparison. Hie only drawback, communications back down to Virginia were cut Ironic, both armies were now cut off from their capitals.
Walter actually smiled. Would this trigger a panic in Richmond as well? Probably not Davis was not used to the kind of telegraphic leash Lincoln could keep his generals on. And Richmond had far more faith in General Lee's ability to bring a miracle forth than the Union had in all its generals combined. No, Richmond would be anxious and curious but not panicked or desperate. Well, at least there will be no dispatches to trouble Lee. Let him sleep.
Walter stood up. All around was cloaked in fog, rain slashing down. All was silent Good. Let him sleep a few more minutes.
Lee heard the soft exchange outside his tent He'd been awake for nearly an hour, quietly going over the plan, eyes half closed, listening to the drumming of rain on the canvas.
They love me. That thought struck him with a sharp intensity. Walter keeping watch outside throughout the rainy night the stage-whispered commands from the road for those passing by to keep quiet because "Lee is sleeping."
Today is the Fourth of July. He had a memory of childhood. Old men gathering at the house while he sat quietly to one side, listening as they talked of Washington, of the cold of Valley Forge, the heat of Monmouth, the triumph of York-town. I thought them to be giants, men who had shaped the world to their vision and desires.
What would they say of me now, leading this war to divide the nation they created?
He had settled that argument long ago, at least he thought he had. It is not us, but they, those people on the other side who had drifted from the intent of the Fathers. We are now defending that heritage, not they. We represent the Founding Fathers' intent of a nation of states, not a centralized dictatorship of one government
And yet what would they say then to all of us squabbling children, tearing apart the dream they had created. I cannot change that now. I am on the path set before me and cannot waver from it Afterward, perhaps afterward we can find some way to sit down, to talk, perhaps to heal.
He thought of his boy in prison. Even now old friends will look out for him, while I; here this day, shall kill the comrades of those friends.
How many will die this day? How many a boy stirring in camp at this moment is awakening to his final day?
He swung his legs off the cot, moving quietly so Walter would not hear, stifling a groan, his legs and back stiff. He knelt on the damp ground and lowered his head, hands clasped in prayer.