Never Call Retreat - Civil War 03

by Newt Gingrich; William R Forstchen

"For those whom I lead, dear God, and for those whom I face. I know many will fall in the days to come. Forgive them their sins and bring them into your loving embrace. Let friend and foe come together before your holy throne as brothers once more. Amen."

  "General Lee? Forgive me, sir, for interrupting."

  He looked over his shoulder. It was Walter, his hat off.

  Walter was pointing toward the road that wove past the defensive earthworks of Baltimore. Coming toward them was a carriage, and he could see Judah Benjamin, Jeb Stuart, and Pete Longstreet.

  "Thank you, Walter."

  Lee saluted Judah as he stepped down, followed by Pete and Jeb.

  The three came over to the side of the road to join him.

  "I suspect, gentlemen, you bring news," Lee said.

  Judah nodded and Lee could see the look in Longstreet's eyes.

  "A telegram just came in from Westminster. It's troubling, sir."

  "Go on."

  "Sir, a report from a captain with the Third Virginia. The same boys who were covering Carlisle. He states that the Yankee infantry moving on the east side of the mountains are nothing but militia. It looks like Grant's main striking force is west of the mountains."

  Lee listened in silence. He nodded, saying nothing, taking the information in.

  "How reliable?" Lee asked.

  "I know the captain of that troop," Jeb said. "A good man, West Point. I was slating him for promotion to a regimental command. He's done excellent scout work in the past."

  "How did he get this information?"

  "The first telegram just gave the general details, a second one came in a few minutes later. It stated that a patrol had encountered a column of infantry north of Gettysburg and taken prisoners. The sender declared the information to be reliable."

  Lee looked over at Jeb.

  "I wish we had more to go on," Lee said.

  "I know, sir. I do, too. It's taking a devilish long time to get our mounts rested, reshod, and refitted. I've already detailed two regiments up to Westminster with orders to force a probe. Jones and Jenkins, minus about half their men, are moving down the B and O right now, covering that line."

  'The B and O," Judah sighed, shaking his head.

  "One other thing," Pete said, interrupting Judah before that conversation over the railroad started. "The report from Westminster also stated that an entire brigade, under Custer, is driving hard, is already into Taneytown, heading southwest, apparently pushing toward Frederick."

  Lee turned away, going back to lean against the fence.

  So it was beginning, the mask starting to slip away. It was all becoming clear now. Grant hoped to hold his attention northward until into position to sprint toward Frederick. Once in Frederick he'd close off the railroad to Harpers Ferry, to a possible crossing at Point of Rocks.

  Lee looked back at Longstreet, who stood silent.

  "So now we know," Lee said.

  Pete merely nodded.

  Lee turned his gaze on Stuart.

  "I want every one of your men mounted and ready to move before dawn tomorrow."

  "Sir, that will be tough to accomplish. I have thousands of men still waiting for shoes for their horses."

  Lee shook his head.

  "We need your cavalry moving, General Stuart."

  "Yes, sir," Jeb replied.

  "And then there's the railroad," Judah said.

  "It didn't work out, did it?" Lee asked.

  "No, sir. Garrett refused."

  Lee, in an uncharacteristic gesture, slammed a balled fist against the fence rail.

  "General Longstreet, any suggestions?"

  "First and foremost, we must secure that bridge over the Monocacy."

  "What do we have there now?"

  "Just an outpost and telegraphy station."

  "I want Jenkins and Jones up there by tomorrow morning to secure the crossing. General Stuart, I want you up there as well. Take a train if you can, otherwise, sir, I think you'll just have to ride."

  Stuart nodded, offering no protest.

  "Sir, I've been doing some checking," Judah interjected. "We face some real problems using the B and O."

  "I'm not certain we really have to use the B and O," Lee said. "We've moved quickly in the past without use of rail."

  "I think, sir, it's different this time," Pete said.

  "How so?"

  "If a fight is brewing at Frederick, and if we can get the bulk of our forces there ahead of Grant, we can bottleneck him. He'll have only one road, the National Road, to bring everything up. It'll be a race, and the railroad can help us tremendously. Fifty trains can bring up an entire division with supplies in just two hours, compared to two days of marching. Plus the men will be fresh.

  "There's our artillery reserves as well. We have nearly two hundred and forty guns total. That's over forty batteries. Sixty trains can move those guns, with horses and men. Three days if we move them overland."

  "The B and O has some fine locomotives," Judah announced, "capable of pulling twenty cars. It can give us a tremendous advantage."

  "But it won't cooperate," Lee replied sharply.

  "I've already informed Garrett we are seizing control for the duration of the campaign. I suggest, sir, tonight, that word be put out to every regiment in this army. Any man with railroading experience, especially engineers, mechanics, brakemen, report to the main depot in Baltimore."

  Lee said nothing for a moment. If only he had an organized division of military railroad troops, this would not even be a bother.

  He looked over at Walter and nodded in agreement. "Get the word out at once. Men to report by dawn.

  "Pete, find someone to put in charge."

  "Major Cruickshank."

  "I thought he was in command of the pontoon bridges."

  "He's a hard driver. I think he's our man."

  "Promote him to brigadier general, and get him working on it. Now what about the pontoon bridges? Weren't they supposed to already be up at Frederick?"

  Pete sighed and shook his head.

  "They're still at the depot."

  "What?"

  "Sir, nearly every yard worker just sat down or took off once word came that Garrett was not cooperating. Cruickshank has apparently struck a deal with the yard boss, though, and we should be moving around midnight. But it's going to cost."

  Lee looked at Judah.

  "I do have some cash reserves," Judah said. "Silver coinage."

  "Fine, then," Lee replied. "Have Cruickshank offer five dollars a day to any man who will come back to work. Jeb, I want you up there when the pontoon train goes forward. Take the bridge at Monocacy and hold it at all cost."

  "We definitely need that bridge," Longstreet interjected. "It's not just the bridge, it's the junction just on the other side. There's a water tank there, and also a turntable."

  "Aren't there other turntables along the line?"

  Judah shook his head.

  "I looked at the maps in Garrett's office. There's a turntable at Relay Station, just outside of here, the next one on the line is at Frederick Junction, on the west side of the Monocacy. We don't have that, and every train will have to be backed up. Also, there's a bottleneck. It's double track most of the way, but there's a thirteen-mile stretch between two tunnels, east of the Monocacy, that's single track. Everything will have to route back and forth through that."

  Lee sighed. During the winter at Fredericksburg he had sweated out the movement of but half a dozen supply trains a day coming up from Richmond. But one engine breaking down meant short rations for that day. Now they were talking about moving hundreds of trains.

  "Gentlemen, we are racing through too many issues at once here. Let us focus on the overall issue, and then all will derive from that."

  The group around him fell silent.

  "I think it is clear that General Grant will move on Frederick rather than toward Harpers Ferry and crossing into Virginia. It is clear as well that our concern to the north was nothing more
than a masterful feint on his part.

  "I had hoped for a few more days' rest for our army, that is now finished. Grant's intention in taking Frederick was perhaps to threaten our potential line of retreat if we had planned to withdraw, but we all know that was never our intent. We are here to stay in Maryland."

  "Could we not let him come to us?" Judah asked. "He'll wear his men out; we can continue to rest and refit."

  "Impossible," Longstreet replied. "Do that, let him envelope us here and reunite with the Washington garrison, and we'd be pinned in this city with no line of retreat. He could then wait us out, forcing us to attack on his terms."

  Lee nodded in agreement.

  "No, Mr. Secretary, it has never been the policy of this army to let our opponents choose their ground. From Harrisburg to Hagerstown and then over the National Road to Frederick is more than a hundred miles of marching. All of it in the end funneling down to one road over the Catoctin Mountains. We marched that same road last year during the Sharpsburg campaign. It's a good road but a steep climb over the South Mountains and then the Catoctins.

  "No, sir, that will be a hard march. He's been on the road for three days now. I'd place the head of his column at

  Greencastle, perhaps lead elements as far as Hagerstown, but he is more than a day away, more likely two, from Frederick. And even then, all will have4o funnel over that one road.

  "If we can take advantage of the railroad, and get our army up and marching before dawn, we can have all our strength there in two days, the bulk of our army there ahead of Grant.

  'Then we choose the ground and let him come at us. Lincoln is undoubtedly pressuring him to attack, and attack us he will. We will have the better ground, and by heaven's help we will smash him."

  He looked around, and even Pete nodded in agreement

  "Another battle like the ones you talk about, General Longstreet," Lee said enthusiastically, looking over at Pete. "A good defensive line, like the one we had at Union Mills, and we bleed him out"

  "I hope so, sir."

  "I know so," Lee said emphatically.

  "Now, gentlemen, you know your orders. Walter, find Generals Hood and Beauregard and have them report to me back at my headquarters in Baltimore immediately. I want those trains moving, infantry to be on the march at dawn with five days' rations and full cartridge boxes. General Longstreet, please accompany me back to headquarters and we shall lay out the routes of march for our corps. If we can get the trains running correctly, General Scales's Division will lead off by train, sparing them the march and placing them ahead of the Union cavalry.

  "Gentiemen, this is the battle we have been waiting for, and with God's help this will finally end the war."

  B&O Rail Yards, Baltimore

  August 24

  11:30 P.M

  McDougal, damn it, are we finally ready to move?" "Yes, Major, I think so." "It's general now, McDougal. Remember that." "Yes, your worship," McDougal said with a grin while shifting a wad of tobacco and spitting.

  Former major, now general, Cruickshank muttered a curse under his breath. A job that should have taken only three or four hours had consumed a day and a half. The pontoons and bridging material had been laboriously hauled through the streets of Baltimore to the rail yard. Then there had been the nightmare of maneuvering each wagon carrying a thirty-foot-long boat up onto a flatcar. Easy enough when talking about it, but bloody chaos when turned into a reality. Each flatcar had to be backed up individually to a loading ramp, mules unhooked, then the cumbersome wagon pushed by several dozen men from the ramp onto the car. Several of them had slipped, the clearance of wagon wheel width and rail car width being only a few inches to either side, and one of the boats had been staved in when it .tumbled off the car.

  Once loaded, the wheels had to be chocked, cables hooked to secure the wagon in place, the single car then pulled away from the ramp and sidetracked, another flatcar hooked to a locomotive and backed into place.

  Meanwhile cantankerous mules had to be forced aboard boxcars or open-sided cattle cars, kicking and braying. After hours of waiting in the heat, men then had to go into those same cars, lead the mules out to feed and water them, then lead them back in again.

  If the full Baltimore and Ohio crew had been around, he knew the job would have gone off without a hitch; instead, he was primarily reliant on his own men and a hundred or so workers who had shown up just after dark, when word circulated around that each man would be given five dollars, in silver, at the end of each day's work.

  That alone burned him. His boys were getting a few dollars a month in worthless Confederate scrip and that issue alone had triggered more than a few fistfights with the civilians.

  McDougal, who had agreed to stay on as yard boss for twenty dollars a day, silver, watched as the first of the locomotives began to inch forward.

  Jeb Stuart was aboard that train. An extra car hooked on to the end, an open cattle car now carrying half a dozen horses and the "cavalier" himself, sitting astride the siding of the car, hat off and waving a salute to Cruickshank as they passed.

  "Damn show-off," Cruickshank muttered.

  "He's off to war and you ain't," McDougal said. "Count yourself lucky."

  "I'm stuck here now, McDougal," Cruickshank said. "I'd rather be going with my pontoons. Get the hell out of this place."

  "Oh, you'll have grand fun these next few days," McDougal said cheerfully. "I figure you'll have to help organize two hundred trains or more. A snap if you know what you are doing."

  "I don't, and you do," Cruickshank said coldly, looking over at McDougal. "And by God, you better do it right." McDougal smiled.

  "But, of course, Major... I mean, General. Of course."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Near Sykesville, Maryland

  August 25 3:00 A.M.

  Stop the train, stop the damn train!" Jeb Stuart leaned over the side of the car. Mules in the boxcar up ahead were kicking, screaming in panic. Flames shot out from under the wheels of the boxcar, streaming back.

  The train whistle was shrieking, a couple of brakemen running aft, leaping from car to car, clamping down the brakes as the train skidded to a halt. As the train slowed, flames that had been trailing in the wind started to lick upward.

  Jeb jumped off the car he was riding on, nearly tripping, regaining his footing and running alongside the train. The mules inside the burning car were terrified. A brakeman was by his side, helping to fling the door open, and the animals leapt out, disappearing into the darkness.

  The front left journal box of the car was glowing red hot, flames licking out. The engineer of the train and the fireman came back, lugging canvas buckets which they threw on the box, steam hissing. More buckets were hauled by several soldiers, dousing the side of the railcar.

  "What in hell is going on here?" Jeb roared.

  "Happens all the time, General," a brakeman announced. "That's a journal box. Filled with grease to lubricate the axle of the wheel. Sometimes it just catches fire."

  Another bucket was upended on the box, the water hissing.

  "Open the damn thing up."

  "Once it cools, we'll repack it," the engineer said.

  "How long?"

  "Once it cools."

  "Just open the damn thing."

  A brakeman with a crowbar flipped the lid of the journal box open, the engineer holding a lantern and peering in at the steaming mess.

  "I'll be damned," he whispered.

  "What is it?" Jeb asked.

  "Packed with wood shavings and scrap metal."

  "What?"

  "Sorry, sir. Someone sabotaged this car. It should have caught fire twenty miles back. Was most likely smoldering and we didn't even notice it in the dark."

  "You mean someone deliberately wrecked it?"

  The engineer said nothing, finally nodding his head when Jeb gave him a sharp look.

  "Where?"

  "Don't know, sir. Most likely back in Baltimore. Should have burned miles back down the
track. Lucky we got this far. We're going to have to check every single box on this train now."

  "Damn all," Jeb hissed, turned away, slapping his thigh angrily.

  Looking down the track he saw the headlight of the following train, hauling ten more cars loaded with the pontoon bridging. One of the brakemen was already running down the track, waving a lantern.

  "How long?"

  "In the dark like this?" the engineer said. "An hour or two to check all the boxes. Better check the ones on the following trains as well. Sorry, sir, but we're stopped for now."

  Exasperated, Stuart looked around at his staff, who had climbed off the cattle car to witness the show.

  "Mount our horses up. How far to Frederick?" he asked.

  "Follow the track, another twenty miles or so to Frederick, sir."

  "You wait to dawn, sir, we'll have things ready." "I have no time, Custer isn't waiting for some train to get fixed," Stuart snapped. "Mount up. We ride to Frederick."

  Two Miles North of Frederick, Maryland

  August 25

  5.30am

  Morning mist clung to the fields flanking the road. To his right George Armstrong Custer could catch occasional glimpses of the Catoctin range, rising up nearly a thousand feet, the ridge-line golden with the glow of dawn.

  It was a beautiful morning after an exhausting night. Turning in his saddle, he looked back, the column of his troopers, led by the First Michigan, were quiet, many slumped over in their saddles, nodding. Ever since they gained the pike at Emmitsburg the ride had been an easy one, a broad, open, well-paved road, and not a rebel in sight as they swept southward through the night, taking four hours for men and horses to rest before remounting two hours ago.

  He could see the church spires of Frederick just ahead, rising up out of the mist, which was starting to burn off the fields, but still clung thick to the winding course of the Monocacy on his left. ^

  A scout, a young lieutenant, came out of the mist, riding fast, reining up and grinning.

  "Was just in the center of the town, sir. Not a reb in sight. Talked with some civilians. They said a reb patrol rode through about an hour or so ahead of us and turned east to head down to the Monocacy."

  "How many, Schultz?"

  "About a hundred or so. There was some commotion at the telegraph station there. The rebs had that occupied, and then all of them pulled out heading east."