Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
July 19,1863 3:30 A.M.
The train drifted into the station, its bell ringing, the steam venting and swirling in the still morning air.
He sat hunched over, wrapped in thought, headache still throbbing. At least the trip was finished, eight hundred pounding miles, the incessant click-click of the track a numbing repetition, every bump of the train as it lurched its way through the mountains of Pennsylvania resounding in his head like a cannon shot
Haupt, Washburne, and Parker were up, looking at him, and with a muffled groan he rose from his seat and went to the rear platform. A cloud of wood smoke washed around him as he stepped out. A small guard was waiting, a dozen men snapping to attention, a captain with drawn sword saluting as he stepped off the platform.
After more than two days on the train his legs felt unsteady, the ground shifting and swaying beneath his feet A wave of nausea hit and he fought to keep it down; the last thing needed at this moment was to vomit in front of the men.
"Welcome to Harrisburg, sir," the captain said, voice quavering a bit nervously. "Thank you, Captain."
"Sir, General Couch sends his regards. He regrets not being here to meet you but will report at your earliest convenience."
Grant said nothing. Couch was most likely fast asleep. The rail yard was a bustle of activity with half a dozen trains being off-loaded, crates of rations piled up under an open-sided warehouse, horses being driven off boxcars, a dozen Napoleons on flatcars ready to be dragged off and then matched up with crews.
The captain reached into an oversized haversack dangling from his hip and drew out a sheaf of envelopes, bound with a coarse string.
"Sir, these letters are waiting for you."
The captain handed them to Grant.
"Any word from Washington?" Grant asked.
"They beat off Lee's attack. It's all in there, sir."
Grant took the package and looked around.
"Sir, there's a desk in the yardmaster's office." Leading the way, the captain took him across a set of tracks, around a locomotive that was ticking like a teakettle, with heat radiating from its boiler, and into a well-appointed clapboard-sided office. The obligatory pot of coffee was brewing on a small wood-stove and Parker immediately took down four tin cups from a shelf, filled them, and passed one to each of the travelers.
Grant settled into a wood-backed chair, laid the package on the open roll-top desk, took out his whittling knife, and cut the package open. Twenty or more letters and telegrams spilled out and he opened the top one.
He leaned back in the chair and a thin trace of a smile creased his face.
"What is it?' Washburne asked.
"The captain's right, Lee failed to take Washington. It's a report from Stanton. Heavy assault on Fort Stevens this morning, just before dawn. Estimate eight to ten thousand casualties for the rebels. Our losses estimated at four thousand. Reinforcements from Charleston decisive. Enemy driven back out of our lines by midday."
"Will they attack again?" Elihu asked.
He shook his head.
"I doubt it. Cut the estimate of their losses in half and it's still a devastating blow. If they couldn't take it yesterday, Lee knows it would be even worse today. I think that finishes their hopes of taking the capital for now."
He opened the other envelopes, scanning through them, lingering over one for a moment, then continued till the last was read and laid down on the desk. He finally took up the cup of coffee, which had cooled, and drained it in several gulps.
"Most are repeats of the same message. The rioting in New York, for the moment, has been suppressed. Haupt, your efforts are bearing fruit; we have trains ladened with supplies, rations, remounts, artillery, wagons, coming from as far away as Maine."
Haupt smiled and nodded.
Grant looked around at the small gathering.
"I'm to report to Washington immediately," he said and stood up.
"You just got here," Elihu said.
"I know. Stanton wants a conference and I'm to take the fastest train to be found down to Perryville on the Susquehanna, where a dispatch boat will be waiting to take me to the capital."
"Stanton?" Elihu asked cautiously.
"Congressman, I'd like you to accompany me," Grant announced. "Parker, I want you to stay here. The First Division of McPherson's corps should start coming in later today. Set up my headquarters. I want it in the field, not in town. Find an appropriate place. Haupt, I think it best if you accompany me as well."
"An honor, sir. I'll go over to the dispatch office now and clear a line for an express. We can take the same train that brought us here."
Grant picked up the first telegram he had read and reviewed it one more time.
So Lee had tried. Well, he had to. Even on the slimmest of bets, the chance to take Washington by a bold assault could not be ignored.
He might try again a few days hence, to probe around the fortifications and look for a blunder by Heintzelman. All Heintzelman had to do in response was to keep the exterior forts reasonably garrisoned and shift reserves along his own interior lines to wherever the threat might develop. A child should be able to do that, but then again, more than one general in this army had sunk below that level during the last two years.
The question is, what will Lee do next?
"Sir?"
He looked up. The captain of the guard detail stood in the doorway, holding another telegram.
"This came in for you. It was dated nearly six hours ago but was in code. Sorry, but it took a while to find the translator book."
Grant took the telegram and opened it. A message out of Greensburg, Pennsylvania, a hundred miles to the southwest along the Pennsylvania Railroad. The message was from a Pinkerton agent claiming to have come in from behind Confederate lines Jefferson Davis was reported as being
seen two days ago at Greencastle, a small town in the Cumberland Valley, just inside the Pennsylvania state line, riding to meet Lee.
Now, if true, that was news, revealing much of what was to come. In fact, it was damn good news. Haupt was back.
"I've ordered the line cleared. We can leave as soon as our engine is watered, oiled, and fueled."
Grant stepped out of the office, lit a cigar, and looked heavenward. It was a clear night, the stars were out, shining through the faint overcast of fog drifting up from the river.
"How's the headache?" Elihu asked.
"It's gone."
Three Miles North of Fort Stevens
My 19, 1863 2:00 P.M.
General Lee, President Davis is on the road just north of here, he'll be arriving in a few minutes." Startled, Lee looked up from the map spread out on the table. Having moved his headquarters out of artillery range, he had just settled in under an awning spread on the front lawn of a modest, two-story home facing the Seventh Street road. Under the shade of the awning he had been contemplating a nap after the sleepless night that had bedeviled and exhausted him.
"Are you sure it's the president?" he asked.
Taylor nodded excitedly.
"One of Stuart's boys saw him and galloped back here with the word."
Lee came to his feet looking down at his uniform. His jacket was off, vest open, pants stained with mud. He felt clammy, sweat-soaked, realizing it had been a week or more since he had been out of these clothes. It was scorching hot out, and he dreaded having to get back into formal attire, but there was nothing else he could do. Taylor had already picked up his jacket and helped him get into it. Next came the boots, replacing the comfortable slippers. A black servant with the staff knelt to help him with his boots, then produced a stiff brush and worked on the trousers for a moment before helping him to wrap his sash and then snap on his belt.
He already felt confined, sweat breaking out There was a flurry of activity up the road; on the low ridge a half mile to the north men were on their feet a distant cheer echoing. It had to be Davis, nothing else could stir the men on this day of rest of disappointment, and heat.
There was a momentary flash of frustration, even anger. There had been no notification that the president was so close, just a vague message after Union Mills that he would come north at his earliest convenience to inspect the troops and discuss future plans. It was obvious now that this visit by Davis was in anticipation of the news that Washington had already been seized, or was about to fall. Still, there should have been more formal notification so that he and his men could prepare.
'Taylor, get some sort of formal guard out there. Also, send messages to Generals Longstreet, Hood, and Stuart that the president is here and I expect them to report in as soon as possible."
Taylor, obviously a bit flustered for once, saluted and ran off, shouting orders. The headquarters company, Virginian cavalrymen, were already forming up, the rumor of the president's arrival having swept the camp. There wasn't time to saddle and mount, so the men simply formed up by the road, brushing off each other's uniforms as they waited.
A troop of cavalry were coming down the road, riding at a swift trot. Their uniforms of dark gray jackets and light gray trousers were stained and muddied from the long ride. The escort reined in, Taylor down on the road to greet them Salutes were exchanged.
A second troop came in, and in their midst was Jefferson Davis, riding a black gelding, trailed by civilian staff. To Lee's surprise, Judah Benjamin was with them, the secretary of state for the Confederacy. He looked haggard, wincing with every jolt as his mare trotted behind the president's horse.
The group reined in. There was a flourish of salutes from the escorts, men racing up to hold the reins as the civilians dismounted.
Lee came forward, stopping a half dozen feet from the president and saluting. He wondered if Davis would feel some offense at the paltry nature of the greeting, no band, no flags displayed other than the headquarters insignia, no brigades of troops lining the road.
Davis stepped away from his mount, moving stiffly, looking around He bowed slightly in acknowledgment of the salute.
"Mr. President, welcome to the Army of Northern Virginia, sir," Lee said formally. "An honor, General Lee."
There was a moment of awkward silence. The other civilians were gathering behind Davis and Benjamin, jockeying for position, a couple of them obviously reporters, notebooks already out.
"My headquarters are rather spartan, sir, I hope you don't find it too uncomfortable"
As he spoke, Lee gestured toward the canopy of tarpaulins spread out on the front lawn of the house. A couple of servants were racing about, dragging more chairs out from the house, another setting out a fresh pot of coffee and tin cups and surprisingly a pitcher of what looked to be iced lemonade.
"Not at all, in fact this reminds me of my own days in the field during the war with Mexico. Lead the way, General," Davis said.
Lee guided them the few dozen feet to the table. The entire crowd of civilians tried to close in and follow. Davis turned to one of his military escorts and whispered a few words. The escort nodded.
"Gentlemen. The president wishes a few moments alone with General Lee and Secretary Benjamin. I believe General Lee's staff will offer some refreshments in the house."
"General Lee," one of the civilians shouted, stepping around the escort. "I'm with the Richmond Examiner. Is it true you were repulsed yesterday in front of Washington with heavy losses?"
Lee looked at the man out of the comer of his eye. Several others were crowding around behind the reporter, notebooks out.as well.
"I first wish to make my report to the president, gentlemen," he said, forcing himself to remain polite. "I will be more than happy to talk with you later."
"Sir, just five minutes please. Will you renew the assault?"
He turned away, ignoring the man, who smelled of whiskey and bad cologne. Several guards from his own staff stepped between Lee and the reporter, there were whispered comments, and Lee inwardly smiled.
There were several muffled protests, but the reporters, staff, and hangers-on were led away. ^
Davis was already sitting in the chair Lee had occupied only minutes before. Benjamin was standing, looking down at the map.
Lee approached, glad to be under the awning, at least out of the direct sunlight, though the heat was stifling.
"Gentlemen, something cool to drink? Perhaps you'd care to rest a bit before we start?" Lee offered, even as he poured a cup of lemonade and offered it to Davis.
"I'd like to hear what happened first," Davis replied, looking up at him.
He wasn't sure if there was a tone of reproof in Davis's voice. He set down the cup that he had offered to Davis and then poured another for Benjamin, who gladly took it. Benjamin took his hat off and with a sigh pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Thank you, General," he gasped and drained the lemonade in two gulps. Seconds later he winced, rubbing his broad forehead from the shock of the cold beverage.
He forced a smile.
"Foolish of me, should always take it slow," he said and then unbuttoned his jacket, removed it, and placed it over a chair. His shirt was plastered to his body with sweat, and as a soft breeze wafted by he actually sighed with delight
"General, make yourself comfortable, sir," Judah said. "Our president has an iron fortitude, but I'll tell you, in those last ten miles I thought I would die from the heat It is worse up here than in Richmond."
"I agree," Lee replied, glad for the moment of the small talk, which was customary and polite before getting to business. "Washington has its own unique climate, which in midsummer is worse than anything to be found farther south."
Judah poured another cup of lemonade and sipped it slowly. It was obvious that Davis wanted to press straight in, but Judah was diverting him for a moment
Lee had always liked this man, and he could tell that Judah was trying to give him a few minutes to organize his thoughts.
"The ride up was gruelling, General. Train to Winchester, where, I should add, we passed the convoys of Yankee prisoners from Gettysburg and Union Mills. I- tell you, I've never seen such a sight It was biblical in its proportions. I'm told there were ten thousand or more in that one column.
Then by horseback up the Cumberland Valley and across to here.
"We dodged several of their units, mostly militia, but some regulars as well, cavalry patrols. That's why you didn't hear of our coming. We felt it best to keep such intelligence to ourselves."
Lee nodded, glad to hear the explanation. Of course it was obvious, the way Judah stated it, and he relaxed a bit; sending heralds ahead might only have served to alert a potential enemy. It told him as well that while he was focusing on Washington, his tenuous line of communications to the South was even more fragile than he had thought. There was really nothing at the moment to prevent enemy patrols from wandering freely right down into northern Virginia.
'Take off your jacket," Benjamin pressed, "let's get comfortable. If you keep yours on, sir, I will be forced to put mine back on, and that I would not care to do."
Lee smiled, and Taylor was quickly behind him, helping him to remove the heavy wool coat. He breathed an inner sigh of relief and nodded his thanks to Judah.
He beckoned to a chair and Judah took it. Davis, who had remained silent through the interplay, removed his jacket as well, having been outvoted on the dress code for the meeting.
"We rode past General Longstreet's headquarters about three miles north of here." Davis said, his voice quiet, even-toned. "General Longstreet was not there, but his staff told me that yesterday our army was repulsed in front of Washington with heavy casualties."
"Yes, that's true," Lee replied.
"What happened?"
Lee gave him a brief review of the action. He spared the details of Hood's failure to properly coordinate the attack. He knew Hood was a favorite of the president, and besides, it would be unfair to lay blame.
Davis listened without comment, taking a sip of lemonade while Lee talked.
Finished, Lee sat back in his chair.
"Can you renew the assault?" Davis asked.
"I would prefer not to, sir. I've asked for a full muster and review of all units, which should be in by the end of the day, but I think it's safe to say that we are down to roughly thirty thousand infantry capable of bearing arms."
"You came north, sir, with over seventy thousand men. What happened?"
"That was over seventy thousand total, sir, including artillery, cavalry, logistical support, medical personnel. Our victories at Gettysburg and Union Mills came at a price. Anderson's division, as you know, was fought out, and I detailed it to escort the prisoners back to Virginia. There have been the usual losses as well to disease, accidents, desertions, and just simple exhaustion. Just the march from Westminster to here cost us nearly five hundred men from accidents and the rigors of the road, and now the heat."
"If you did renew the attack," Judah asked, "what do you estimate our losses would be in order to press through and take the city?"
"I can't begin to even guarantee that another attack would take Washington," Lee replied. "We tried our best yesterday, lost eight thousand, and could not press it to a conclusion."
'To take the city, how much?" Davis asked, repeating the question.
Lee lowered his head.
"Perhaps half our remaining force," Lee finally replied. "With what little we'd have left, I daresay that within a fortnight we'd be forced to abandon the city and retire back into Virginia."
Davis looked over at Benjamin, blew out noisily, and sat back in his chair.
"I came north, General Lee, under the assumption that by the time I arrived you would be into Washington, and that our secretary of state here would be discussing terms of peace with the Yankees and opening negotiations with the various embassies of Europe. I am gravely disappointed by this turn of events.
"When you proposed this campaign to me back in May, it was to serve several purposes. One was to relieve Vicksburg, an intent that has failed. A second was to defeat the Army of the Potomac, and in that you succeeded brilliantly. Yet a third was to hopefully bring Washington into our grasp; it appears that has failed as well."
Lee listened, trying to maintain an air of patience and deference, but he felt an anger building. He knew he was tired and the day so hot that the heat was getting to him as well. He had to stay calm.
"Sir, are you dissatisfied with the results?" he asked.
"Let us say I expected more, much more, General Lee. The reports that came back to Richmond indicated that we were on the brink of a final victory that would conclude this war."
"I never said such a thing in my reports, sir. Perhaps public enthusiasm, generated by our friends of the press, elaborated on what I reported to you in my dispatch after Union Mills. I stated in that report that I would march on Washington and probe its defenses; never did I indicate that I felt confident that I could take that position."
"It was implied however, General Lee. Else why should I travel here, enduring the hardships of the road, and the unexpected threat of being captured."
"We had a bit of a skirmish near Frederick," Benjamin said. "Nothing serious, as it turned out, just some Union militia that stumbled into us, but they gave us a few minutes of concern."
"I'm sorry if you had such difficulties," Lee replied, "but I thought it would be evident that our lines of communication are by no means secure. What force I have left needs to be concentrated here, it cannot be spared elsewhere."
"I would think the security of the president of the Confederacy would be of some concern, General Lee."
"Sir, if I had been made aware of your intent to travel, beyond the rather vague dispatch sent up by the War Office, I would have detailed off the necessary men regardless of my needs here at the front lines."
He knew he had transgressed with that last statement. He caught an ever-so-worried glance from Judah. Davis's features darkened but he did not reply.
"I'm sorry, sir," Lee said. "Do not take offense. Know from my heart that if I was aware of your presence in Maryland, I would have moved to more closely ensure your safety. You are here safe, however, and I daresay the journey in and of itself will be noted and remembered as an adventure worthy of you."
He knew it was outright flattery but it had the proper effect. Davis seemed placated.
"Then back to the question of the moment," Davis replied. "Can you take Washington regardless of cost?"
"Sir, with but thirty thousand infantry, I believe we are, as of today, outnumbered. A day ago I might have questioned the fighting ability of their garrison troops, but no longer. They fought well; in fact, with courage and honor. You know as well as I the old adage that against a fortified position the attacker should outnumber the defender by at least three to one. That in a full assault the attacker can expect to lose a number equal to the total number of defenders. With those two factors alone, I would say the taking of the city would be impossible. We no longer have enough men."
"Suppose I ordered it."
Lee hesitated. Along the road he could see where hundreds of men had gathered, his headquarters company and Davis's military escorts forming a cordon to hold them back. Men were coming down from farther up the road to join the throng.
I cannot order these men into a fruitless attack, he realized. They are too precious to spend thus, merely to demonstrate to Davis the impossibility of the task. They deserve better. I learned a bitter lesson yesterday in the assault; I will not allow another just to prove yet again the futility of it all to the president.
"Respectfully, sir, I would have to refuse that order."
"If I made it a direct order?"
"Sir. Please don't do that. It would force me to tender my resignation. If I thought there was a semblance of hope that such an order would bear fruit, I would be the first to try, but I can tell you now, without hesitation, the opportunity of the moment has passed, unless General Heintzelman makes an extremely foolish mistake, such as venturing forth to try and fight us in the field, and I know he will not do that."
Davis sighed and poured himself another cup of lemonade.
"I had to be sure," Davis said. "I will confess, it was a grave disappointment to travel so far to find this failure."
"The army tried, sir, it did all that was humanly possible. And please do not dismiss the victory they brought us at Union Mills."
"The destruction of the Army of the Potomac. Yes, though I did hope for more results to emerge from that. It appears that Mr. Lincoln still will not waver from his course, regardless of how much blood he spills."
"Sir, we crippled the Army of the Potomac, have taken it out of action for at least a month, perhaps two, before it can reorganize, but it has not been totally destroyed. Except in the most rare of circumstances, that, sir, is impossible."
Davis said nothing and Lee felt his own frustration growing again. Who had been talking to this man? Never had he said in his reports back to Richmond that the Army of the Potomac had been totally destroyed. His after-action report made that clear enough. Yet again he could see how wishful thinking in the War Office and the government bureaus, combined with the press, was generating false assumptions. Yes, the news of July 4 was indeed heady stuff. It was fair to assume that it could be the forerunner of yet more victories, perhaps even greater ones, but to assume that it truly signaled the end of the war, that was foolhardy.
"A remarkable achievement, General Lee, your victory at Union Mills," Benjamin interjected. "It will stand in history alongside the victories of Wellington and Marlborough."
"Thank you, sir."
Davis stirred, looking over at Benjamin. "I for one would like to hear the details from you, General, of how it was achieved," Benjamin continued, obviously enthusiastic, "but perhaps we should focus on the next step, given the realities you have just shared with us."
Davis nodded. Lee said nothing, waiting for the president to lead the way.
"I have given some thought to alternatives in case our hopes did not come to pass here."
"My staff and I opened discussions on that last night," Lee replied. "We were to meet again tonight to come to a firm conclusion. I thought it best to first give everyone a day of rest. Our activities have been nonstop since the evening of June 28. The men, their officers, my staff are all exhausted."
"And your thoughts as to what will come next?" Davis asked.
"Sir, it is obvious we must remain on the offensive and continue the campaign in Maryland, but to attack Washington is out of the question at the moment, given our numbers. To withdraw back to Virginia is out of the question as well. We cannot allow ourselves to fall back into a strategic defense and give those people the time to concentrate their forces and come after us again."
"What if I were to tell you that even now twenty thousand additional infantry and five thousand cavalry are mobilizing to come to your side?" Davis asked.
Surprised, Lee could not respond, and for the first time Davis actually smiled.
"I've ordered General Beauregard to bring up half of his garrison from Charleston. Additional troops are being drawn from North Carolina and Virginia, including the brigades left behind by Pickett. Governor Vance has pledged ten thousand men, including the releasing of significant logistical support. They should be here within a fortnight I am strongly suggesting that Beauregard be given a corps command in your army."
A fortnight? Two more weeks. Even now the Union was moving tens of thousands of men in a matter of days. In one sense it gave him renewed hope. Twenty thousand, plus the return of some of Anderson's men and lightly wounded from the other divisions, could bring the active numbers back up to the strength prior to Gettysburg. Enough for one more good strike, even though the replacements, both in terms of men and officers, were not of the caliber he had two months ago. Perhaps there just might be a chance for renewed action against Washington. If the weather would clear up, the roads dry, he might be able to play out a campaign of maneuver against the capital that would draw the Union forces out.
If the reinforcements arrived in time and proved to be of sufficient caliber to stand in the line against veteran Union troops, he would actually be tempted to try a second assault on Washington.
There was no sense in playing that game at this moment. War was not won on "ifs." He had to focus on the here and now.
"So, your intentions, General Lee?" Davis pressed.
"We must maintain our presence in Maryland, if for no other reason than logistical ones. The supplies here are rich and the movement of the center of operations out of Virginia will give our farms time to bring in their harvests unmolested."
Davis nodded and Lee knew that his answer had been a weak one.
"Baltimore, General Lee, are you considering that?"
Lee did not reply for a moment. Yes, he had been considering moving on that city, it was to be the main focus of his conversation this evening with his staff and generals. He had hoped not to bring this conversation on prematurely with the president without careful analysis, but it was obvious that he could not avoid it.
"Yes, Mr. President, we were to discuss Baltimore as an option this evening."
"I'd like to discuss it now, especially in light of the fact that for at least the next two weeks Washington is out of the question," Davis replied.
"Sir, my first thought was to draw back toward Frederick."
"Why?"
"Several reasons. Primarily because it would shorten our logistical lines. From Frederick we might even be able to establish some rail connections, if only temporarily. The land and supplies there are good, not heavily foraged by either side. It would give us a secured area from which we could exclude Union attempts at intelligence-gathering, and from there we could respond to any movement toward "Virginia out of Washington, or from farther north." "And Baltimore?"
"I am quite open to that suggestion, sir. However, I should caution that I do not want to see our army enter into an urban battle for possession of a city. Second, it would extend us significantly, with a hostile force in our rear and the potential of those Union forces gathering north of the Susquehanna threatening us as well. Such a move would make our lines of communication vulnerable and would add upward of a week to the consolidation of reinforcements of which you have just informed me." "
"But you are not adverse to the idea?" Davis asked pointedly.
"If it means a brutal street-to-street fight, we cannot afford such losses. I would also want to think through the question of the ultimate purpose and how long we would be expected to hold that city."
"Permanently," Davis replied.
Lee raised a quizzical eyebrow but said nothing.
Davis cleared his throat and nodded significantly toward Benjamin, who was watching the exchange with his usual soft genial smile.
"The president and I did discuss this eventuality as we rode north," Benjamin announced. "I will say that I for one was not optimistic that Washington would fall easily into our hands. Its fortifications may be the most formidable in the world. However, Baltimore does not have that kind of protection."
Lee wanted to offer his thanks for that comment but remained silent, pouring another cup of lemonade and sipping from it while Judah talked.
"Though Washington is out of the question at the moment, I believe that Baltimore is a viable target, the taking of it perhaps ultimately achieving certain political goals at a fraction of the cost in men."
"I'm intrigued, sir," Lee replied.
He had always liked Benjamin, angered at the low, anti-Semitic prejudices that far too many had demonstrated against this brilliant man. In his brief tenure as secretary of war, from late in sixty-one to the spring of sixty-two, Benjamin had tackled with ability the Herculean task of marshaling the resources of eleven semi-independent states into a common cause, a task that by its nature had earned him the enmity of most of the governors.
Few realized that Benjamin's fall from grace as secretary of war had actually been a brilliant subterfuge. When Union forces threatened the coast of North Carolina, there were simply no resources available to meet them, other than a few state militia units. Rather than admit to the paucity of Confederate resources, Benjamin had silently accepted the blame and the charges that his incompetence had allowed a significant portion of the Carolina coast to fall without a fight Militarily, the ground taken was next to useless anyhow, and it had preserved the secret of just how weak the South was at that moment. For his loyalty and silence, Davis allowed him to resign as secretary of war and then immediately appointed him secretary of state.
He was Davis's silent partner, constantly at his side, and though Lee would never admit it even to his most intimate of friends, if there were any really useful intellectual concepts or decisions put form and then acted on, it was most certainly Benjamin who was behind them.
For that reason alone Lee was now more than glad to hear what this man had to say.
"I think we should look at Baltimore for several reasons," Benjamin continued, voice pitched low, as if sharing a deep personal secret.
"The political considerations first. On an internal level, meaning within this state, the taking of Baltimore, and with it a side action that took Annapolis, would give us a legitimate stance to declare a state convention and in short order establish a state government that would vote for admission into the Confederacy. Our base of support in Maryland is in the eastern region anyhow. Our presence last year in western Maryland aroused no support or even a remote opportunity to call for such a convention, as we then occupied the region that in fact is strongly Union in sentiment,
"Bringing Maryland into the fold would be a major coup, gentlemen, a crowning laurel for the Army of Northern Virginia, which of course will now be seen as liberators who have come to free their Southern brothers from the tyranny of Lincoln. It would be a political sensation."
He continued to smile and Lee found himself nodding in agreement. Yes, it would provide an immediate justification for this campaign and for the great victory won on the soil of Maryland.
"It would also present a major political and dare I say to you, General Lee, military setback as well for the Union. If Baltimore is taken, Washington will continue to be in isolation and threatened.
"The amount of supplies to be seized would be significant as well, undoubtedly enough to easily maintain our army for the remainder of the campaign. And, I should add, the industrial resources of Baltimore are almost beyond counting. Rolling mills, shipyards, iron mills, boiler works, foundries, all these resources can be brought into our efforts."
Lee nodded but felt he now had to raise a point.
"I've considered that very point, sir," Lee replied, "but the question would be how to move those resources south. We don't hold the railroads and even if we did take a section of the Baltimore and Ohio and repair it, there is still no direct link back to our own lines. They would be useless to us in Baltimore, at least in the immediate future."
"If we hold Baltimore," Davis interjected, "and, when we reach an armistice, Baltimore and with it Maryland become part of the Confederacy, it will be invaluable to us. It will mean our hold on the Chesapeake is secure; we will have a major port and industrial base and the wherewithal to defend ourselves in the future if the Yankees should ever contemplate a second war against us."
A second war? That was too far in the future for Lee to even try to contemplate. His only concern now was the immediate, the campaign of this moment and the bringing of it to a successful conclusion.
"As to the primary consideration," Judah said, taking the conversation back from Davis, "it is the international one."
Lee nodded.
"When the culmination of this campaign results in the taking of Baltimore, I would be present as secretary of state. We, of course, would announce for all the world to hear that this indeed had been our intent from the start. The attempt on Washington was perforce necessary from a military standpoint, but we never seriously contemplated the taking of it. Baltimore from the start was our goal. Realize, sir, that in Baltimore, though there are no ambassadors there, there are several consular offices watching over trade issues and such. The French have a consulate there, as do the British. I would meet with them at the earliest possible moment and present yet again the case for their intervention.
"By international law the federal government cannot hinder their open communications with their governments. I can promise you that within three weeks after Baltimore is in our hands, lengthy dispatches from the president and myself will be in Paris and London. Couple that with the news of Union Mills, and the transfer of Maryland to the Southern cause will present an image of inevitable Confederate success to European statesmen."
He sat back, his perpetual smile turning into a broad grin.
"Sir, I think we would then stand a reasonable chance of recognition, at least by France."
This was indeed heady news, Lee thought, unable to hide his own smile of approval.
"England?" he asked.
Judah regretfully shook his head.
"There are other issues hindering us there."
As he spoke, he looked over at Davis, whose features were now wooden and unresponsive.
"Why France, then?" Lee asked.
"Because of the nature of their emperor, Napoleon III We know he is trapped in a deepening quagmire in Mexico. That ill-advised campaign is going into its second year without any real results. Napoleon knows that a Union victory would result in an immediate turning of the wrath of the Yankees upon that troubled country. A war will result, and the Yankees will drive the French out and take the country for themselves."
"There is, of course," Davis added, "the simple desire of many European powers to meddle in our affairs in any way whatsoever to damage us, both North and South. But we can turn that to our distinct advantage at the moment, to play France in the same way our revolutionary forefathers did. Only a fool would think they aided us out of altruistic dreams to advance the cause of liberty. They did it to hurt Great Britain. But no one will intervene if we do not present them with the reality that we can indeed win this war. Taking Baltimore, bringing Maryland into the fold, and opening direct communications via their consulates from a city we've freed from Yankee tyranny will be of incalculable benefit to the cause. I think, General Lee, it will mean a final victory thanks to the brilliance of all that you have achieved."
"Is it realistic to think France will intervene?" Lee asked.
As he spoke, he looked past the two men to the road. A thousand or more troops were standing there. The men were his men, tough veterans even at the tender age of eighteen. Their features were sunburned, uniforms filthy; in the summer heat and mud many had taken their shoes and socks off, the precious footgear tied around their necks. They were watching this conference, hopeful, expectant, most of them knowing that without a doubt their own fates were being decided here.
I owe them everything, Lee thought Everything including my very life. They were the ones who stormed the cemetery at Gettysburg, then force-marched fifty miles and held the line at Union Mills. What we talk about now was created by their blood and sweat. I must not fail them. I cannot fail them. "General?"
It was Judah, looking at him.
"Just thinking," Lee said absently.
Judah looked over his shoulder at the troops watching expectantly, turned back to Lee, and nodded.
"We must see that their efforts are rewarded with final victory," Judah said softly and Lee smiled.
"In answer to your question about France," Judah continued, "yes, I think it is realistic, and it will bring immeasurable aid to those young men of yours. Troops from France? I doubt it. Logistically it would be difficult, and besides we don't need them, as General Washington once did. Our soldiers are the match of any Yankees we'll ever face, as long as they are backed up with sufficient supplies and equipment"
Lee nodded his thanks at this compliment.
"It is the breaking of. the blockade that matters. The diversion of Yankee naval forces to counter Napoleon. If but one convoy of supplies got through to Wilmington or Charleston, loaded with artillery, ammunition, guns, medical supplies, that alone would be worth it.
"The political consternation it would create for the Union would be incalculable. It would exert profound pressure for negotiations on Lincoln and his government
"The thought of the French ironclad La Gloire arriving off New York Harbor would send the entire North reeling and divert their assets from us. That, sir, would be a fitting result of your campaign against the Army of the Potomac. That would be the beginning of the end for Lincoln and his cronies. Congress would force them to seek an armistice with us."
He smiled softly.
"Perhaps even to then find a common front against a foreign foe."
He laughed softly and Lee could not help but admire the adroitness of this man's thinking. Yes, American selfcenteredness and its ultimate distrust of Europe could very well engender a peace and then a common front afterward. How ironic, but also how sad.
"We must take Baltimore. That is the road to peace," Davis announced.
Lee stood up and as he did so there was an audible stirring from the men out on the road, as if they sensed a decision was about to be made.
He looked down again at the map. A two-day march would place them into the city, as long as there was no more rain. There were some fortifications to the southwest of Baltimore, but they were, at last report, manned only by some local militia. Yes, it was feasible, but would it also prove to be a trap? Once into the city, they were wed to it for the duration of the fight. Could he occupy it, but still maintain a presence in the rest of Maryland and facing Washington? But Davis had promised twenty thousand more infantry. If only it were forty thousand, he would not hesitate.
We must achieve something decisive here, he thought And he knew that with Washington impossible there was now no other choice.
He leaned over, studying the map, nodding slowly. Details would have to be worked out this evening with Hood and Longstreet Stuart's command would have to be split, half to stay here, shadowing Washington. A division of infantry would have to stay behind as well, to feign an attack. At least a division toward Annapolis, leaving five divisions in his main force, with the rest of Stuart's command racing back north to act as a screen and to scout out the enemy's dispositions. Supplies were not a concern at the moment and yes, Judah's assertion that there was a virtual cornucopia waiting in Baltimore was undoubtedly true.
Not given to hasty decisions, he knew that he must make one now. He would have preferred a day or two to contemplate this, for it was a profound shift in all his thinking of the last three weeks. It would tie the Army of Northern Virginia to an occupation role, and the effects of that might be profound. But there was no other choice. He could not pull back to Frederick and adopt a waiting-and-watching role, not after this conversation.
"We move on Baltimore tomorrow morning," he said, looking at Davis and Benjamin.
The two smiled and stood up. Davis, aware of the gathering crowd that was watching them, leaned over and shook Lee's hand. A wild shout went up from the watchers. From somewhere a band had come up and immediately broke into a slightly off-key rendition of "Dixie," which was greeted by the piercing rebel yell.
Davis came out from under the awning and walked toward the men, the crowd breaking through the cordon of escorts to surround their president. Lee, always uncomfortable with such displays, held back, Judah by his side.
"You really believe it can still be done, don't you?" Lee asked.
Judah smiled his inscrutable smile and nodded.
"With luck, General Lee. Tonight I shall appeal to my Old Testament God while you pray to your New Testament Savior. I don't think though that He takes sides based upon a few feeble prayers. So I shall have to trust in luck, your skill, and the courage of these men."
He hesitated.
"For if we appealed to Him on moral grounds alone, well, I think I would be concerned."
Startled, Lee looked over at Judah, who shrugged his shoulders and then walked off to follow his president Not wishing to join in the display of exuberance, Lee stepped back and walked off in the opposite direction in order to contemplate what Judah Benjamin had just said.
July 20,1863 4:00 A.M.
The sudden lurching of the boat as it bumped against the dock roused him from a deep, dreamless sleep.
Ulysses Grant sat up and instantly regretted it, as he banged his head on the overhead deck. Softly muttering an obscenity, he lay back, disoriented for a moment. He was in a narrow cabin lit by a coal oil lamp turned down low. The space was little bigger than a coffin, just enough room for a bed, with the deck only inches from his face. Beside the bed was a small nightstand, with a basin of water on it Under the stand was a chamber pot In the comer sat a small chair with his coat draped on it.
Rolling over, he slipped out of the bed and found that even at his stature he could not stand upright The boat swayed gently; topside he heard shouted commands, the scurrying of feet
There was a knock on the door, it was Elihu. "We're here." "I'll be right out"
He splashed some water on his face, buttoned the plain four-button coat of an infantry private, and looked down at his uniform. The only mark of command was the hastily stitched shoulder boards with three stars. The third star for each shoulder had been cut out and sewn in between the existing two stars, since no official three-star insignia could be found. The uniform was stained, rumpled, smelling of sweat both human and horse, but there was no changing to a fresh uniform now. In the hurried confusion in the dark at Port Deposit his trunk had never been transferred from the train to this courier boat. There was nothing to be done about it now, and he opened the door.
Elihu was hunched over in the corridor.
"What time is it?" Grant asked.
"Just after four Philadelphia time, not exactly sure what it is here. We really flew down the Chesapeake. That young lieutenant in command has nerves of steel; I couldn't see a damn thing and yet he was puffing along, boilers wide open."
The journey had gone by in a blur for him. Express train to Philadelphia, where they changed trains, and from there down to Perryville on the north bank of the Susquehanna, where they had transferred to a waiting courier boat.
"You get any sleep?" Grant asked.
He had felt a twinge of guilt when the young naval lieutenant in command of the boat insisted that Grant take his coffinlike cabin, leaving Washburne and Haupt to fend for themselves aboard the toylike boat.
"Haupt slept on the deck, in the pilot's cabin; I played cards with the crew."
"Win anything?"
"You know it's against regulations to gamble aboard a naval vessel," Elihu said with a grin. "How would it look for a congressman to be caught trying to take the earnings of our gallant sailors?"
He shook his head.
"They cleaned me out. I lost fifty dollars."
Climbing a half dozen steps up a ladder, Grant and Washburne came out on the deck. The open boiler aft was ticking and hissing, steam venting out. All was wrapped in a thick, oily fog, muffling sound; the dock they were tied to illuminated by gas lamps that cast a feeble golden glow. The air was thick with a fetid, marshlike scent, mingled with the stench of sewage.
The young lieutenant and his crew of five stood at attention by the narrow gangplank. Haupt was already on the dock, disappearing into the shadows.
Elihu stepped down the gangplank, two of the sailors grinning and winking at him. Grant followed, stepped on to the dock, and looked around. It was as if he had walked into a ghost land. A lone sentry on the dock was the only living presence, the sailor looking at him nervously and then snapping to attention.
"No one knows we're here," Elihu said.
"Fine with me."
They stood in the fog, Grant not sure at the moment what should be done next Haupt returned a moment later.
"No one knew we were coming. It's a bit chaotic, casualties being brought in from the fight at the fortifications, but I'm having three horses brought to us. They should be here in a few minutes."
Grant slowly walked along the dock, hands behind his back, the point of his cigar glowing. A shallow draft ironclad was tied off just ahead of where they docked, guns protruding fore and aft, a wisp of steam and smoke venting from the stack. A detail of half a dozen sailors approached out of the fog, running hard, a naval ensign leading them. They drew up short, and the ensign saluted, the men coming to attention.
"Sorry, sir, no one told us you were coming," the ensign gasped.
"No problem, Ensign. What has been going on here?"
"The fight, sir?"
"Yes."
"We could hear it, hell of a barrage. Our artillery really put it to them. The barracks have been converted over to a hospital for rebel prisoners. A dirty lot, sir, covered in lice most of them."
Grant said nothing. The navy was used to a far different standard of living, and the sight of a real infantryman, who had been campaigning for weeks in the field, would of course come as a shock to them.
"Is it true, sir, you're coming from the West with fifty thousand men?" the ensign asked excitedly.
"You know I can't discuss that with you," Grant replied, a note of reproach in his voice.
"Sorry, sir. Just that's been the word around here the last few days."
There was a clattering of hooves, and several cavalrymen approached, leading their mounts. The sergeant in charge of the small detail did not look all that pleased.
"Are you General Grant, sir?" he asked coolly after saluting.
"Yes, Sergeant."
"Some general just came up and said he was requisitioning three horses."
"That's right, Sergeant. Don't worry, I'll make sure we get them back to you by midmorning."
"Sir, I don't like being dismounted at a time like this."
"I understand, Sergeant."
The trooper reluctantly handed over the reins of his mount, a towering stallion.
"He's a tough one, sir, sensitive mouth, so be careful."
Grant smiled, took the reins, and quickly mounted. The horse shied a bit, tried to buck, and he settled himself down hard in the saddle, working the bit gently but making it clear he was mounted to stay. The horse settled down.
Elihu and Haupt mounted as well. Grant looked around, totally disoriented.
"I know the way," Elihu announced.
The sergeant looked up at him, and Grant sensed the man was a bit disappointed, half hoping that the mighty general would wind up on his backside for having taken his horse.
Elihu led the way, moving at a walk down the length of the dock, passing another ironclad, this one rigged with lanterns hanging over the railings and boarding nets strung around its circumference.
They eased past a line of wagons, several carriages, and a couple of ambulances. The main barracks were aglow with a light that cast dim shafts of gold out the windows to dissipate in the cloaking fog. From within he could hear low groans, a sudden cry of pain. Naval sentries, half-asleep, stood outside the building, leaning on their muskets. Four bodies were lying on the lawn, bare feet sticking out from under the blankets, the corpses, like all corpses, looking tiny and forlorn.
Elihu broke into a slow trot as they went through the gates of the naval yard, the sentries looking at them wide-eyed as they passed.
"Hey, was that Grant?" one of them asked as they passed, their conversations muffled and then lost in the fog. They trotted up a broad avenue, passing a convoy of wagons parked by the side of the road. No one was about The streets were empty, the soft glow of streetlights marking their way. Two- and three-story houses lining the road were dark. Several street corners had small patrols stationed, three or four men. Some were up, standing, more than one man curled up, sleeping in a doorway while a lone comrade fought to stay awake, keeping watch.
A black cat darted across the street in front of Grant, causing his horse to shy, arid he fought it back down, urging it forward.
Elihu chuckled.
"Not superstitious, are you?" he asked.
Grant said nothing, letting go of the rein with one hand to reach into his pocket pull out a match, and strike his cigar back to life.
A wagon rumbled past them, going in the opposite direction. Inside, piles of newspapers were stacked high. The road slowly climbed up a slope, the narrow confines of houses giving way to a broad, open expanse of lawn. He didn't need to be told; it was the Capitol.
Dim lights glowed from within, the fog breaking up slightly to reveal, in the first early light of dawn, the great iron dome that was still under construction.
Elihu slowed a bit, reined his horse in, and stopped for a moment
"No matter how many times I see it, it still gives me a lump in the throat," he whispered.
Grant said nothing, looking up at the towering heights. Even now, at four-thirty in the morning, the building was open. A row of ambulances was parked in front of the east portico, stretcher-bearers carrying their burdens up the steps. Civilians were coming in and out, some moving slowly, wearily, after what must have been a long night of labor, others hurrying in.
He was tempted to stop, if only for a few minutes. It had been years since he had trod these halls, and within were men who had suffered, some enduring the final agony of having paid the ultimate price for the preservation of what this building represented. But other matters pressed, and he slowly rode on.
They skirted around the south end of the Capitol, dropping down to the broad, open, almost marshy ground below the building. Directly in the middle he stopped again and looked up.
The structure towering above him was imposing, solid, conveying a sense of the eternal… the temple of the republic for which he fought
Whether it would one day stand as a hollow testament to the failure of the dream, or remain the central hall of freedom, now rested squarely upon his shoulders. It was a responsibility he had not sought but which fate seemed to have thrust upon him. Strangely, he found himself wondering how this place would look fifty, a hundred and fifty years from now. Would it be barren, a city abandoned like so many capitals of the ancient world, or would it be vibrant, alive, the dream continuing, a place of pride, a republic that would endure this time of crisis and emerge yet stronger?
He pressed on, following Elihu, who had slowly ridden ahead, Haupt at his side. They reached Pennsylvania Avenue and turned left. There was a light scattering of traffic, the first streetcar of the morning slowly making its way up the hill to the Capitol. A company of troops marching in route step passed on the other side of the road, rifles slung over shoulders, the men bantering among themselves, barely noticing the two officers and a congressman trotting past A barricade blocked off most of the street farther on, with two twelve-pound Napoleons deployed behind it, sentries standing at the narrow opening. No comments were exchanged as they rode through, though one of the men looked up curiously at Grant as he saluted.
As they dropped down off Capitol Hill, the fog thickened again. Riding in the middle of the street, they could barely see the buildings flanking either side. A drunk sitting on the curb was being soundly dressed down by a policeman who was hoisting him to his feet. A few ladies of the evening, or in this case the early morning, loitered under a streetlamp, looking over hopefully as they passed, but offering no comments.
They passed by the bright lights of the Willard, a small crowd gathered outside, mostly officers, but none looked over at his passage. He was glad of that, otherwise the rumor would explode like wildfire. With his private's sack coat, collar pulled up against the morning damp, he was barely distinguishable, except for the three stars on each shoulder.
Directly ahead was the War Department, Elihu leading the way. In the fog he caught a glimpse of the White House, troops deployed on the front lawn. The sky was brightening, shifting from indigo to a sullen gray.
They reined in before the dark somber mass of the War Department building. The sentries out front, in spite of the hour, were well turned out, uniforms smart, brass polished and reflecting the glow of the streetlights.
As he swung down off his mount, several orderlies came out of the doorway and at the sight of him slowed, stiffening to attention.
"General Grant?" one of them asked.
He returned the salute and nodded.
"Sir, the secretary of war is in his office; he told me to escort you in the moment you arrived."
Haupt dismounted with him, but Elihu stayed on his horse.
"Think I'll wander over to the White House," Elihu announced.
In spite of the hour, Grant knew that Elihu would rouse the president, and he was grateful. Stanton had no real love for him, and at this crucial first meeting it would be good to have Lincoln present.
Grant followed the orderly into the building after telling one of the sentries to find a way to return the horses back to the cavalrymen at the naval yard.
The corridors were brightly lit with gaslight, the floor beneath his feet sticky with tobacco juice, cluttered with scraps of paper, and even what appeared to be splotches of blood. Even at five in the morning it was bustling with activity, staff officers running back and forth; a lieutenant with his arm in a sling-the blood on the floor obviously from the leaking wound in his elbow-leaned against a wall, pale-faced, not even noticing as Grant walked past him. In his good hand he was clutching a roll of papers.
They went up the stairs, turned down another corridor, the air a bit stuffy and damp, and without fanfare were ushered into the outer office of the secretary of war.
A well-dressed colonel, sitting behind a desk, stood up as Grant and Haupt came in.
"Good morning, General, we were expecting you," the colonel announced in a soft, silky voice. "The secretary is asleep but I have orders to wake him the moment you arrive. Please make yourself comfortable."
The colonel slipped through a doorway, barely opening it, and the etched glass panes of the inner office, which had been dark, now glowed from a light within.
There was muffled conversation. Grant settled back in the leather-bound seat and looked over at Haupt, who was obviously exhausted.
They didn't wait long. The doorway opened, the colonel beckoning for them to enter.
Stanton was up, hair rumpled, feet in carpet slippers, an unmade daybed in the corner, with blankets kicked back. He wheezed slightly as he came up and shook Grant's hand.
"You made good time, sir.".
"General Haupt is to be thanked for that. We had an express with track cleared all the way from Harrisburg to Perryville."
Stanton beckoned to a couple of seats across from his desk as he settled down. The colonel reappeared bearing a silver tray with a pot of coffee and one of tea. He poured the tea for Stanton and coffee for Grant and Haupt, then withdrew.
Stanton opened a desk drawer and pulled out a pocket flask.
"Would you care for a bracer in that, General?" he asked.
Grant, features expressionless, shook his head. Stanton put the flask back in the desk.
"Give me a minute to wake up, General," he said, and leaning back in his chair, Stanton noisily sipped on his cup of tea, draining it, then refilling it.
Grant waited patiently.
"Did you hear what happened here the last two days?" Stanton asked.
"Just the telegrams you sent up to me and the usual newspaper reports."
"We bloodied them. Two divisions, Perrin and Pettigrew, were all but destroyed. It was a major defeat for Lee and his men."
"That's what I heard."
"We have some reports that Jefferson Davis is in their camp."
"I heard that as well, sir."
"If he's there, I think that means he will renew the attack." Grant said nothing, making no comment about Stanton's observation.
"We are getting stronger pretty fast," Stanton continued. "All of Strong's brigade is up from Charleston. Two more brigades are slated to arrive today, along with some additional units out of Philadelphia and several ninety-day regiments that were mustering in New Jersey. I hope the rebels do try it again."
"I don't think they will," Grant ventured.
"Why?"
"If Lee failed in his first assault, and did so with the casualties you are reporting, I cannot see him trying the exact same attack again. One attempt against a fortified position might be justified, but a second one on the heels of a failed attack would be folly. And Lee is not given to folly."
"Are you certain of that?"
"No one can ever be certain in war, but it's what I would do and I think Lee is a professional who avoids self-destructive mistakes."
"Suppose Davis orders another attack? He obviously came north to be here and gloat over their final victory. I cannot see him turning away from us now. The political repercussions would be significant."
"I think, sir, that General Lee would resist any such order. In spite of their victories of the last month they cannot afford any more serious losses. If he takes Washington but drains his army's manpower, it will be an even worse defeat in the end."
"And you are certain of that?"
Again Grant shook his head, knowing right here at the start that Stanton was trying to force him into a commitment to his own vision of what would come next.
"And again, sir, nothing is certain in war."
Stanton coughed noisily and then looked over sharply at the cigar in Grant's hand.
There was an ashtray at the comer of the desk and he put it out.
"Do you know why I summoned you here?" Stanton asked.
"I would assume, sir, to review the plans of the forthcoming campaign."
"Yes, General. Since your appointment to field command of all armies, I have not the slightest inkling of what your intentions are."
"Sir, I thought it best not to entrust such delicate information to either the telegraph or dispatches. I was going to prepare a full report for you once I was in Harrisburg."
"Why Harrisburg?"
"Sir, I plan to make that the base of my operations." Stanton coughed again and then poured another cup of tea. "You did not get my approval for making that your headquarters."
"I know that, sir."
Haupt stirred uncomfortably by Grant's side and Stanton looked over at him. "What is it, Haupt?"
"Sir, Harrisburg is an ideal location to constitute a new field army. Its rail connections are some of the best in the North. It offers easy access not only to upstate New York and New England, but to the Midwest as well. We will have to run literally thousands of trains in the next month in order to create this force, and I suggested Harrisburg almost immediately as the place to marshal. Besides, though not a field commander, I think it evident that by organizing at Harrisburg, we maintain a potent position to strike into the rear of Lee's lines of communication, thus ultimately forcing him to battle."
"Thank you for that analysis, Haupt, but there is another consideration that carries far more weight, and that is the political consideration of maintaining Washington no matter what the cost."
"Mr. Secretary," Grant interjected, glad that Haupt had offered a moment's diversion with a very pointed and cogent argument, "I think it is fair to state that Washington is secure now."
"Are you certain, General Grant? We've had reports that a massive Confederate column, maybe upwards of fifty thousand strong, is already marshaling in Richmond; advance elements even now are moving into the Shenandoah Valley, coming up to reinforce Lee or to act as an independent striking force."
"And who commands this?"
"Our agents report it is Beauregard."
Grant said nothing. He had faced Beauregard once before, at Shiloh, and did not hold him in the high regard that others did.
"I would think they are destined to merge with Lee's forces," he finally offered in reply.
"Whether with Lee or not, such a force could very well tip the scale and take the capital."
"I would not place this new force in the same caliber as the Army of Northern Virginia. They are scraping the bottom of the barrel. Chances are many of the units are state militias, about as useful as our ninety-day regiments. It could take them weeks, a month or more, before their numbers will even be noticed."
"Sir," Haupt said, pressing back in to the conversation. "The Confederate railroad system is a shambles. Several different gauges on their lines hinder any transfers when moving long distances. They have to stop and transfer men and equipment between trains every time they encounter a new gauge. Last winter, when the Army of Northern Virginia was encamped in front of Fredericksburg, they could barely move half a dozen supply trains a day, forcing Lee to scatter his forces across hundreds of square miles for forage. The task of moving that number of men north, if that is indeed the number, will strain them to the breaking point."
"The number is valid," Stanton snapped.
"As reported by whom?" Grant asked.
"I've sent Pinkerton agents into Virginia."
Again Grant did not reply. Some of the agents were good, obviously the one who had sent the message to him about Davis was doing his job, but most of them were amateurs when it came to doing field reconnaissance. It was similar reports, early in 1862, claiming the rebels had two hundred thousand in front of Richmond, that had crippled McClellan. In his own mind, he cut the numbers in half. At most Lee would get twenty-five thousand.
"I think, General Grant, that you should stay in Washington, establish your headquarters here, and make this your main base of operations. Sickles, up on the banks of the Susquehanna, is even now reorganizing the Army of the Potomac. Between your force and his, Lee can be trapped."
"Sickles? Dan Sickles?"
"Yes, Dan Sickles. I signed the order this afternoon promoting him to command of the Army of the Potomac."
He felt his face flush at this news.
"Sir, as commander of all forces in the field, I feel I should have been consulted on this."
"General Grant, you've been incommunicado ever since this debacle unfolded. I was forced to act and act I did."
Before I could countermand it, Grant thought
"Why General Sickles?" he finally asked.
"I don't like him any more than you do, Grant," Stanton replied. "But he has powerful friends in Congress. We need the continued support of the Democratic Party and he is firmly in their camp and now their hero of the hour. His after-action report for Gettysburg and for Union Mills has been printed up and circulated, even the newspapers have it."
"I've yet to see this report, who was it forwarded to?" Grant asked.
"It came straight to me. With Meade dead, he had the excuse to bypass proper channels. Copies were leaked as well. I do have to admit mat the man had a point about Gettysburg. If Meade had allowed him to go forward on July 2, he would have plowed straight into Lee's flanking march and perhaps destroyed it. He argued as well that if he had been allowed to march to the support of Fifth Corps in front of Taneytown, rather than ordered to proceed to Union Mills, he could have turned Lee's left flank and forced the rebels to withdraw. It's causing an uproar. He was scheduled to appear before the Committee on the Conduct of the War to testify."
"But if he was appointed to command of the Army of the Potomac that hearing would be canceled?" Haupt asked.
That ploy was something he had never considered, and Grant shook his head. Yet again, the political maneuverings. Command in the East was clearly much more political and complex than command in the West Distance from Washington might have been a bigger advantage than he had thought.
"Yes, something like that He won't have time to testify now.
"Besides, he suppressed the rebellion in New York City and even the Republican papers are hailing him as the savior of the city."
Grant looked at the crushed cigar in the ashtray, wishing he could relight it.
"You are stuck with him, Grant" Stanton said.
"But nevertheless he will still answer to my orders," Grant said softly.
"In proper coordination with this office," Stanton replied.
Even though Grant's thinking rarely turned to outright guile, he could see that Stanton was trying to outmaneuver and box him in. He wondered if perhaps his old foe, Halleck, licking the wounds of public humiliation at his dismissal from supreme command, was even now lurking in a room down the hallway, waiting to rush in once this meeting was over.
The doorway opened and he almost cried out with relief. Elihu was there with President Lincoln behind him.
Obviously a bit flustered, Stanton stood up as Lincoln came in. His features were pale, eyes deep-set with exhaustion, black coat rumpled as if he had been sleeping in it, trousers stained with mud.
"Mr. President, General Grant and I were just discussing the forthcoming campaign."
"Yes, I can well imagine," Lincoln said.
He looked over at Grant and a genuine smile wrinkled his face.
"General, so good to see you," and he extended his hand.
His contacts with Lincoln, up to this moment, had been only remote. He had never stood like this, so close, almost a sense of the two of them being alone. He looked straight into the man's eyes and liked what he saw. Homey, down-to-earth, the prairie lawyer without pretense.
The handshake was firm, strong, with a touch of an affectionate squeeze just before he let go.
The colonel in the outer office came in, dragging two straight-backed chairs, hurriedly deployed them, and left, closing the door.
Lincoln went to the window and looked out. Dawn was breaking, wisps of fog curling up, the sky overhead visible now with streaks of pink and light blue.
"A long night, gentlemen," Lincoln said, and then turned back, "but hopefully a better day now. General Grant, I'm delighted to see you at last"
"I am honored to be here, sir."
'Tell me of Vicksburg and your journey to here. I need to hear some good news for a few minutes."
Grant briefly reviewed the climax of the campaign and his hurried journey east, Lincoln smiling and nodding as if all other cares had disappeared for the moment.
"Remarkable, when you think of it gentlemen. When I first came to Washington almost twenty years ago, the trip took weeks. When I was a boy, my trip to New Orleans, traveling with a raft of cantankerous hogs, took well over a month. And now we can all but leap across the country in a matter of days."
"After this war is over, sir," Haupt said proudly, "we'll go from Chicago to San Francisco in less than a week."
'Think of it," Lincoln said with a smile. "I read in Scientific American just a few weeks back how some tinkerers are talking about balloons powered by steam engines that will traverse the skies, perhaps even crossing to England in a matter of days. I would love to see that."
Stanton coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Our good secretary is reminding us, gentlemen, that we must deal with business before we can play with our dreams. Is your health well this morning, Mr. Secretary?"
"No, sir. The cursed asthma again."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but yes, down to business."
"Mr. President, I was just discussing with General Grant our wish that he establish his headquarters and operational base here in Washington. It will serve to defend our capital, but also has a logic in terms of logistics, with our superior water transport moving the men and equipment he might desire."
Lincoln nodded thoughtfully, crossing his legs to reveal a pale white shin, his sock having slid down to pile up atop his shoe.
"And, General Grant, your opinion on this? I should add that though the secretary speaks in the plural with his statement as to 'our' wishes, I will admit to not having discussed this with him yet at length."
Stanton bristled slightly and Grant saw the interplay between the two, and the opening Lincoln was providing him.
"Sir. I think Harrisburg is the better choice."
"Enlighten me."
He presented his argument in a concise, clear manner, both in terms of the plan he was formulating and the logistic issues, which Haupt weighed in on. Concluding his presentation, which took no more than five minutes, he fell silent.
"I think, sir, that establishing the base in Harrisburg would be redundant," Stanton replied sharply. "We already have Sickles north of the Susquehanna. It would divert from him resources and rolling stock needed for his own efforts."
"I thought all efforts were for the same goal," Lincoln said softly, looking back out the window.
"A renewed Army of the Potomac, a hundred thousand strong, coming down out of the north," Stanton pressed, "with General Grant here in Washington acting as the anvil, would force the conclusion we want."
Lincoln looked back at Grant.
"Your reply to that?"
"A hundred thousand for the Army of the Potomac?" Grant asked.
"They are the army of this theater, sir," Stanton replied.
"And have lost," Grant said quietly without condemnation, just a simple statement of fact.
"Are you saying they should be disbanded?" Stanton asked heatedly.
"No, sir. They have a role, which I've already mentioned just now to the president. But a hundred thousand strong?"
"You disagree with the number?" Lincoln asked.
"Sir, you've appointed me commander in chief of all forces in the field. To do that task I must be in command, and in the field, not trapped in a besieged garrison. Washington will hold just fine for the moment. If another crisis appears, I can quickly shift men here as needed. But if I stay here, I will be cut off, only able to communicate with all the other field commands by a tenuous line of courier boats racing from here up to Perryville and back. The delay will be crippling in and of itself, and will render me ineffective in my post"
"You answer to the War Department, General Grant" Stanton said heatedly. "General Halleck found it workable to run things from Washington. If you do not like that arrangement, sir…"
And his voice trailed off as Lincoln held up his hand for silence.
No one spoke as Lincoln stood back up and walked to the window. He gazed out for a moment. Grant looked straight at Stanton, who was obviously angry, breathing hard, each breath a labored struggle.
Lincoln finally turned.
"General Grant, I give you full discretion."
Stanton shifted, looking over at Lincoln, about to protest
"Mr. Secretary, you've done an admirable job these last two weeks."
Grant could detect a certain strain in Lincoln's voice. He knew of the controversy that had blown up about the contradictory orders sent by Stanton and Halleck to Meade, after Lincoln had ordered Meade not to risk his forces recklessly in an attempt to re-establish contact with Washington. He could see that there was a complex battle now brewing between these two men, and his own position was a major piece in that fight.
"Sir, I must protest" Stanton replied.
"And your protest will be duly noted. You are right that General Halleck managed things from here, but he did not win from here. I want General Grant out in the field. It's good to hear for once a commander asking for that, and not hiding behind his desk. I think General Grant is right: if he stays here in Washington, his position will be rendered ineffective, and we do not want that now, do we, Edwin?"
The secretary, flustered, was unable to respond.
"Good then, that's settled. Gentlemen, I've been up all night and would like to find some sort of breakfast So if you will excuse me."
The group stood up as Lincoln headed to the door. He stopped and looked back.
"Grant, would you care to join me?" he asked.
"Mr. President, I have numerous details to go over with the general," Stanton protested.
"I think General Haupt could be of more assistance to you at the moment Don't worry, I'll have our commander here back to you later today."
Without waiting for a reply Lincoln was out the door. Elihu beckoned for Grant to follow.
Lincoln waited in the hallway as the door closed behind
Grant. Not a word was spoken as they went back down the stairs. The corridor was packed, word having raced through the building that the president and Grant were in with Stanton. Men snapped to attention, saluting, Lincoln smiling, shaking a few hands until they were out in the street.
To Grant's dismay he saw several reporters racing up, notebooks out, shouting questions. A provost guard was waiting, however, rounding the reporters up, pressing them back against the wall of the War Office. The press howled, especially when a captain of the guard shouted a reminder that the city was still under martial law and they were to keep quiet about whom they saw, under penalty of arrest.
Lincoln set off at a brisk pace, crossing the street, heading back to the White House, a mounted guard detail forming a circle around them, but moving at a discreet distance, allowing the three to talk without being heard.
"Well, that was interesting," Elihu offered.
"Stanton wanted to chain you to that building," Lincoln said, shaking his head. "He wanted you where he could watch you and control you. You would think that we all would have learned by now."
"I smell Halleck in this," Elihu replied angrily.
"All of them are jealous," Lincoln said, shaking his head. "Grant, I'm afraid there are some here who are not pleased by your promotion."
"I'm sorry if that is the case."
"Don't be. It's not a time to be sorry about stepping on toes. Especially big toes sticking out from under the safety of their desks."
"Yes, sir."
"I think I'm going to like working with you, Grant," Lincoln replied. "You're from the West, as I am; we see things differently. None of this flummery and posturing. I'm sick to death of it, while good boys are dying. Why everyone needs so dang much gold braid to play dress up for what is after all the business of killing is beyond me."
Grant spared a glance down at his own soiled tunic and trousers. He had been a bit embarrassed while riding through the city. He was glad now his dress uniform had been left behind.
"Smoke, if you feel like it, Grant; I know it bothers our poor secretary with his lung sickness, but it's fine by me. When we meet Mrs. Lincoln, however, I'll ask you to refrain."
"Yes, sir."
He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the last of his cigars, and paused for a second to strike a match on the side of his boot. He puffed it to life and nodded his thanks.
"That's Grant. I know it!"
The streets were beginning to fill with early-morning traffic. Several companies, in columns of fours, were marching by in the other direction, and a cheer went up for Lincoln and Grant.
Grant did not acknowledge it; it was something he hated and it was clearly evident these men had never served under his command. Lincoln tipped his hat, nodded, and pressed on.
The last wisps of morning fog were breaking up, the sun hot and low on the eastern horizon, casting long shadows.
They approached the front entrance to the White House. The troops who were camped on the ground were getting rousted out, the word of who was approaching obviously having raced ahead. Orders were shouted, men falling into ranks, forming twin lines across the front lawn and snapping to attention. Lincoln stopped and put a hand on Grant's shoulder, causing him to turn.
"A few comments and questions before we go in," Lincoln said softly.
"Anything, sir."
"You are to be in sole command, General. We have lacked that for too long. To be frank, I felt that General McClellan saw the armies as nothing more than his personal escort I made mistakes as well then; I was patient when I should have interfered and I interfered when I should have stepped back. I think any president would be tempted to do so, but I've learned my lessons. I think as well I should have been far more forceful in finding a general that would fight, then letting him go do his business. You are my expert at battle, so unless there is a profound issue that cannot be avoided by me, I will stand back and let you see to your business."
Grant could not reply to that. The reality was simply too startling. But three short weeks ago he was handling a siege on the Mississippi, all that he commanded almost within direct view at any given moment. Now every soldier as far afield as Texas or the Indian Territories was under his command
And yet it did not overwhelm him. He thought of the many cold, rainy nights, sitting alone with Sherman, talking of how the war should be fought, how if allowed to do so they could bring the bloodletting to an end. The price, up front, would be cruel, and yet in the end it would spare all of the nation endless years of half measures and unrelenting agony. This president had just given him that power.
"The secretary is not happy with your appointment. Frankly, it was done without serious consultation with him. Some claim it was the spur of the moment, the night I learned of the destruction of the Army of the Potomac. Maybe so, but I will tell you, Grant, that the thought had been building for some time."
"I appreciate that confidence, sir, I hope I can live up to it."
"All right, then. To speak bluntly and no whispers on the aside. I know about your problem with drinking."
Grant flushed and lowered his head.
"I know as well that you have kept it under control in spite of the vicious rumors launched by your enemies, including some back in that very office we just left.
'I'll only say this once and the matter will never be spoken of again. Until this war is finished, not another drop, sir. If you shall fail in that pledge, your enemies and mine will howl for your head and I doubt if even I will be able to save it. I have placed a confidence in you and I expect it to be observed."
Grant looked back up into his eyes and saw there was no recrimination. The gaze was almost fatherly as Lincoln reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
"You have my word of honor on that, sir," Grant replied humbly.
"Good. Nothing more will be said on that," and Lincoln smiled.
"Now, establish your headquarters where you will. If Harrisburg is your choice, so be it"
"And General Sickles, sir?" Lincoln sighed.
"My hand was forced on that point. He might be a thorn in your side, the last of the old guard of McClellan's time, but then again, he seems to have conducted himself well in division and corps command. And like it or not, he was right about the second day at Gettysburg. If he had been allowed to advance, the same request he had made at Chancellorsville, all might be different now."
Lincoln smiled.
"Perhaps we would not even be meeting like this if he had been listened to. Some philosophers muse on the idea that history can take many paths, and perhaps that is true. It might very well have been the case at Gettysburg. So General Sickles now has his chance, but he is to answer to you."
"And if I find it necessary to relieve him?"
Lincoln sighed and looked away.
"Grant, you are the supreme military commander, but in this one case I will have to ask for your forebearance. Can I ask you to trust me on this score? The ramifications would, unfortunately, go far beyond the military issues and affect our entire war effort. I hope you understand."
He could not refuse the request as Lincoln had just made it, as if he was a neighbor asking for a favor.
"Yes, sir. Whatever you wish."
"Fine then. Are you hungry?"
Grant smiled and nodded his head.
"Yes, sir, to tell the truth I'm starving."
"We have an excellent cook. Perhaps some flapjacks with maple syrup, a good slice of fried ham, and some coffee?"
"I'd be delighted."
"We'll talk more later, when we are alone. But let's relax for the moment. I just met this remarkable fellow I'd like you to meet Hope you don't mind that he's colored."
"Of course not, sir."
"Been learning a lot of history from him these last few days; he's known every president since Madison. Has some delightful insights."
'It would be a pleasure to meet him."
"Good then. Elihu, I know you're looking for a meal as well at taxpayers' expense."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
Lincoln started to lead the way again, but then stopped and it seemed as if a visible weight had suddenly come back down upon his shoulders. He looked back at Grant, eyes again dark, careworn.
"May I ask a question, General Grant?"
"Yes, sir, anything."
"Can we win? Can we end this madness before it destroys us all, North and South?"
The intensity of the question, the look in Lincoln's eyes struck him. Rarely given to sentiment, he found his own voice choking for a moment, and he was unable to speak. It was as if a mystical bond was, at that moment, forged between them. As if in whatever way possible, he had to lift some of the infinite burden off this man's shoulders, and even as that thought formed he felt the weight, the awesome responsibility of knowing that the republic, its very survival, its fate over the next hundred years, rested on him as well.
He slowly nodded his head, looking straight into Lincoln's eyes.
"Yes, sir, we can win."