Never Call Retreat - Civil War 03

by Newt Gingrich; William R Forstchen

  "Yes, sir, it is."

  Grant looked around at the gathering.

  "A report from General Custer." He paused for a second.

  "Good man, Custer," one of the staff said, "promoted to brigade command just before Gettysburg. Aggressive as all hell."

  Lincoln realized that Grant had taken the pause in order to be prompted, to get a little background on Custer before proceeding in front of the president.

  "It was sent this morning at four A.M. from near Hanover. The report says that a civilian informant, whom Custer believes is truthful, came through the lines from Baltimore. General Lee is preparing to move his pontoon train via the B and O to Frederick, perhaps beyond."

  'That's news," Ord said softly. "Is he running?"

  Grant handed the memo to Lincoln.

  "If I'm not mistaken, General," Lincoln said softly after scanning it, "Hanover is not that far from here. Why has it taken nearly eight hours for this message to arrive?"

  Grant nodded in agreement, looking over at Sheridan.

  "Sir, I was at the telegraph and railhead five miles north of here when it was carried in by courier. Seems some pro-Southern civilians, or perhaps rebel raiders, are cutting our telegraph links as Grierson advances on the east side of the mountain. Apparently the courier from Custer wasted several hours looking for Kilpatrick and then Grierson before moving it back up the line to Carlisle, where it was telegraphed to our railhead. Seeing the importance of it, I rode it down here myself."

  Lincoln handed the dispatch back to Grant, saying nothing.

  Grant motioned for the table to be cleared, and within seconds plates and cups were pushed back, a map quickly spread out, men gathering round.

  "Is this reliable?" Grant asked, looking around. "I don't know this Custer. His dispatch states that he is moving on his own toward Frederick to intercept. Did Kilpatrick or Grierson authorize this?"

  "Apparently not," Sheridan replied. "There're no endorsements or comments from either of them yet."

  Grant looked around at the gathering.

  "Again my question," Grant said sharply. "Custer. Is he reliable?"

  "A glory hound some call him," Ely said quietly, "but from what I've been able to pick up, he's at the front of a fight."

  "Last in his class at West Point. Damn young to command a brigade. Class of 'sixty-one," a captain added. "A staff officer with McClellan."

  There was a momentary pause in the conversation, Lincoln standing quiet, watching.

  "Captain, you are a staff officer under Grant. Should that disqualify you for field command if the need arises?" Sheridan asked.

  The captain stood silent, then shook his head.

  "How did he rise so quickly?" Grant asked.

  "He can fight," Ely replied. "After Union Mills, he was one of the few who brought his command out relatively intact. Even defeated a couple of rebel infantry regiments trying to cut him off from Harrisburg. That's how he wound up under our command rather than back with the Army of the Potomac. He was in Harrisburg when we came in and did good service patrolling the western bank of the river."

  Again there was a moment of silence as Grant examined the map.

  Lincoln studied him carefully. This was strictly a military decision, and he was curious to see how Grant would handle it, what advice he'd solicit. Would he make his decisions on his own, and do so boldly, or convey timidity and lack of confidence?

  Grant lit a cigar, and that seemed to be a signal for the others gathered round to fall silent. He puffed intently, staring at the map, picking up the dispatch for a moment, setting it back down.

  "One thing to note here," Grant said at last. "Custer, by moving, has left a gap ten miles wide in our cavalry pickets shielding Couch's slow but steady advance. That was always a decoy, but one I hoped would hold for another day or two. If but one patrol of rebel cavalry attacks that opening, gets through, and takes a few prisoners, they'll realize that move is nothing but a feint. It's twenty thousand militia playacting at being our main force to direct Lee's gaze to the north rather than the west."

  There were nods of agreement.

  "We must assume Lee will know by the end of the day we are not coming straight on, but attempting to flank to the west of the mountains, so that game is up."

  He was silent again for a moment, puffing on his cigar.

  "Lee is playing the safe move. Get the pontoon train west and to the rear of his operational area."

  "Do you think he's pulling out?" Ord asked.

  Grant shook his head.

  "Not like Lee. No, but he will play the safe move first. He needs to secure a line of retreat if we should outmaneuver him or defeat him outright. We'd do the same."

  Grant looked over at Ely.

  "What pontooning material do we know they have?"

  "Their bridging material at the start of Maryland campaign was laid at Williamsport, and then washed away in the floods right after Union Mills. We know he captured some of ours after Union Mills."

  "How much?"

  "Enough at least to get across the Potomac." Grant nodded.

  "That gives him a secure line of retreat if he can get it in place, say here, or here," and as he spoke he pointed toward several potential crossing spots south of Frederick.

  Grant leaned back from the table, hands clasped behind his back.

  'Two potential choices here, gentlemen. The first, that Lee is preparing for a general pullout, the first action to be the moving up of his pontoon bridge and getting it in place, followed within hours by the evacuation of Baltimore."

  "Do you think he'is pulling out?" Lincoln could not help but ask.

  Grant emphatically shook his head. "No, Mr. President. Everything we know of Lee is that he is extraordinarily aggressive. He has won three great battles

  in a row, starting with Chancellorsville, and he has destroyed the Army of the Potomac. I am confident he will want to face us and seek a single battle of decision. But Lee is not a wild gambler. He is a very smart, calculating risk taker. I believe he is simply taking a safe move at the start. Chances are he has no idea we are even aware of it. In fact, it is fair to assume he has no idea at all. He is just doing what any general does before an action, no matter how aggressive he is, to secure a line of retreat before moving forward to action. Lee will stay and fight. There will be another battle soon, and it will be in Maryland."

  Grant paused, hands on the table, looking down at the map again.

  "I do not want him to have that line of retreat. We allow him to do that, things go against him, he can then get out and retreat to Virginia to lick his wounds and prepare for yet another campaign. We've got to stop that train from getting any farther than the east side of Monocacy Creek, just outside of Frederick."

  Lincoln took all this in with great interest. He sensed that Grant was already thinking beyond a single battle, the events of tomorrow or the day after; he was thinking out an entire campaign, perhaps two battles, half a dozen, but all with the ultimate intent of keeping Lee north of the Potomac and destroying him.

  He continued to watch, saying nothing, but feeling an ever deepening reassurance.

  Grant stood up and looked around at his staff.

  "Ely, send a dispatch to General McPherson. The easy marching is over. His current location?"

  "Sir, according to our schedule, by noon the head of his column should be down near Greencastle."

  "Fine. I want a fast courier down to him now. Wfite out the orders for me and I'll sign them. General McPherson is to force-march through Hagerstown, then cross over the South Mountains and Catoctin ranges. I expect him in Frederick by late tomorrow, to secure that town and block the west bank of the Monocacy. That will be thirty-five miles of tough marching, and his men had better be ready to fight at the end of it."

  "Second order," and as he spoke, Ely had a notebook out, scribbling away furiously. "Get a courier over to Custer, tell him he is authorized to gain the west bank of the Monocacy, secure the rail crossing at
Frederick, and burn all the bridges. That will bottle Lee upon the other side."

  "Sir, there are three bridges at Monocacy."

  Henry Hunt, who had been standing quietly with the staff officers, stepped forward.

  Lincoln caught Hunt's eye and nodded an acknowledgment. This was the officer who had brought in the first report to him of the debacle at Union Mills.

  "I was there, sir, June 28, reporting to General Meade after he took command of the Army of the Potomac. I remember the railroad bridge as a temporary wooden structure. The iron bridge was blown last year during the Antietam campaign. There's also a solid covered bridge, double wide, two spans, within rifle range of the railroad bridge. Then there's a heavy stone bridge where the National Road crosses the river, a half mile or so north of the rail bridge. I don't think Custer will have the munitions to destroy that one."

  "Thank you, Hunt. But at least Custer can make a fight for that."

  "If they can push him back, regain the west bank, and have some engineering troops, that railroad span could be brought back up in fairly short order," Hunt continued.

  "That's why I want McPherson in there," Grant said, and Hunt nodded in agreement.

  "Third order, I want the pace of the corps following McPherson to be picked up. We are not going to leave him out there dangling. Now get to work, gentlemen."

  The group scattered, calling for their mounts; Ely remained seated. He tore off a sheet of paper and began to draft orders.

  Lincoln Watched, taking it all in. There was no panic, no confusion, no debate. Orders had been given decisively and were now being acted on, all done in a matter of minutes.

  Grant looked over at Lincoln and nodded. Sheridan stood to one side, saying nothing.

  "Phil, stand by me, for I might need you shortly." "Yes, sir."

  A subtle gesture on Lincoln's part indicated that he wished to talk. He and Grant stepped out from under the awning and slowly walked halfway down to the road, where troops were continuing to pass, not yet aware of what was transpiring.

  "Did this catch you off guard, General?" Lincoln asked.

  Grant shook his head.

  "Not seriously. A standard opening move."

  "So Lee is not escaping?"

  "I can't promise that, sir, but if the shoes were reversed, I know I would not give up all the gains I had achieved without a fight. As I said yesterday, we want his victories to be a trap, to hold him in place. He is just displaying a bit of caution here with the movement of the pontoon train."

  "So why block him?"

  Grant smiled.

  "Two reasons. First off, he'll wonder how we knew. If Custer sweeps down ahead of the trains, burns the bridge, or better yet captures the bridging material, Lee will be caught off balance and it will set him to wondering, something I want him to do. Second, it sets the stage for our meeting. McPherson coming down on Frederick, that's an open challenge for a fight he cannot resist."

  "And yet this seems to disrupt your plans?"

  "Not seriously. I planned all along to maneuver west of the mountains as far as Frederick, then come down and face him. If time had permitted, perhaps even push far enough eastward to block him entirely from the Potomac and link up with the Washington garrison. I don't think that will happen now. He'll figure out Couch by the end of this day and the diversion I set for him with the militia. Then it is fair to assume he will ascertain the rest, but we will be on the move to block that."

  "This Custer left a wide-open hole in that screen," Lincoin asked. "Suppose he is off on a fool's errand, planted by some rebel agent."

  "Then General Custer will be Captain Custer doing garrison duty in Kansas or the Dakotas," Grant said coolly.

  "But I was not there when this civilian came in, so for the moment I'll have to trust Custer's judgment. He made the decision of a general, and I will back him until proven wrong. If I don't do that, no general under me will have the audacity to take a chance. I only get angry when they've done so on what is obviously information they should have seen through or do not act when the evidence before them is as plain as day but they lack the courage to act.

  "Besides, our little farce with Couch could not have lasted much longer. We wanted the rebels to see him at long distance but not get close enough to figure out the truth. That was bound to unravel at some point."

  "The Baltimore and Ohio, though."

  "Yes, it gives Lee an interesting advantage. Plenty of rolling stock and locomotives in Baltimore. He might use that to move swiftly, while my men will be on foot."

  Grant smiled again.

  "My men will just have to move hard and fast."

  "A curious point, General, from earlier," Lincoln said casually. "You mentioned how a general always keeps a line of retreat open. Yet you risked all back in May when you crossed the Mississippi, then cut a hundred miles into that state with no line of supply or retreat. Isn't that a violation of the rule you just said Lee would follow?"

  "That was different, sir. Frankly, I knew the mettle of my opponents, and knew I could do it and win."

  "I see." Lincoln looked at him intently.

  His cigar almost finished, Grant let it drop, crushing the embers out with his heel.

  "Mr. President, I hope this does not seem rude, but I must move south. You are welcome to join me."

  Lincoln laughed softly.

  "But tending to a president might be a hindrance at this moment."

  "I didn't say that, sir."

  "But you might be thinking it."

  Grant looked up at him, not sure how to react, and Lincoln smiled.

  "I've seen all I need to see here, General. I know the armies of the Republic are in good hands. Do your duty." "Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

  "And do not let Lee escape. Finish him and finish this war," Lincoln said forcefully.

  "I will do all in my power to achieve that, sir." Lincoln extended his hand. "I know you will."

  The two turned and walked back toward the awning, where Ely was still busy writing out orders and Sheridan stood silent, waiting.

  "This Sheridan. He's from the West, isn't he?" Lincoln asked.

  "Yes, sir. Fought under Rosecrans, gained a reputation as a hard driver at Stone's River and Perryville." "You ever see him in action?" "No, sir, not personally." "Why did you bring him east?"

  "I heard this man just doesn't know when to quit. He's tough, aggressive. Yes, a bit of a showman, but it's always good to have one like that in your army. I didn't want to strip any more officers out of Sherman's command, but word was Sheridan is good, so I ordered him east a couple of weeks back."

  "His job?"

  "At the moment, a general in my back pocket. I've been watching him carefully. He's acting right now as an assistant, being my eyes where I can't be, and doing a fine job of it."

  "I don't get your meaning. About him being in your back pocket."

  "In case I need to fire someone, sir, or someone is wounded and can't continue in command," Grant said quiedy.

  Lincoln nodded. Good planning. Long before he had crossed the line with his decision to replace Stanton, he had Washburne marked for the job.

  The two paused, Lincoln putting out a friendly hand, resting it on Grant's shoulder.

  "I'll be back in Washington by this time tomorrow. I've thought it over and agree to your replacing Heintzelman with Winfield Hancock if the man is physically up to the job. I'll see that your request regarding the garrison in Washington is carried through and will inform Secretary Washbume of your other plans. I will confess I hesitated as I contemplated it last night. Perhaps it was this latest news, this thought that Lee just might escape south of the Potomac because of the pontoon bridge."

  He looked Grant straight in the eyes.

  "Perhaps instead it's the trust I now have in your judgment. You did not hesitate a few minutes back when Sheridan came in with that dispatch. There was no panicking, no running about, no calling for yet another staff meeting and hours wasted as a result. You run thi
ngs as I've wanted to see them run for over two years, Grant. I trust you."

  "Thank you for that confidence, sir. I will see that I continue to hold it."

  "God be with you, General Grant."

  "And with you and the Union, sir," Grant replied.

  Lincoln said nothing more, turning and walking off to where an orderly already had his horse ready to go. Grant looked over to Sheridan and gestured for him to join Lincoln. Phil mounted and trotted over to the president's side to escort him back to the railhead.

  The two rode off.

  Grant watched them leave, troops along the road cheering as they saw. Lincoln riding toward them, then turning north, heading up the valley for the long trip back to Washington. Soon they were gone from view, while before him the endless column continued to march by.

  "Ely," Grant said, without looking back, "I want those dispatches now."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Near Taneytown, Maryland

  August 24 1:30 P.M.

  After riding hard, Capt. Phil Duvall reined in before the mansion on the outskirts of Taneytown. In the previous few minutes he and his command had crossed through the battlefield of the previous month, an experience that had cut into his heart.

  Everywhere there were shallow sunken depressions of upturned earth, the graves of the thousands who had died here on July 2.

  Phil remembered a quote from Wellington he had learned at West Point, that the only thing as depressing as a battlefield lost was a battlefield won.

  No one could tell the difference between won or lost now. The air was thick with that sickly sweet smell of death, more than one of his troopers, hardened as they might be, vomited even as they rode.

  Ever since leaving Hanover they had crossed over the ground the armies had campaigned across and fought on in the Gettysburg-Union Mills campaign. Sunken graves, decaying horses still unburied, overturned caissons, burnt wagons. He was stunned to discover in Gettysburg a hospital tended by Union volunteers of the Sanitary Commission filled with hundreds of patients, Union and Confederate. The men had been there ever since the battles of early July, too sick or injured to be moved.

  One of the volunteers, a woman, had burst into tears at the sight of him. "Not another battle here," she cried. "Not another battle."