“That sounds suspiciously like an excuse for doing nothing.”
“He’s only telling us that it’s raining,” Lincoln said. “I wouldn’t read anything else into it.”
Stanton sat down across from Lincoln. “It’s been over a week of promises and still no victory. Preliminary reports of casualties are in the tens of thousands. Yesterday I received a letter from a battlefield surgeon who stated that our dead and wounded are nearly double those of Lee’s.”
Lincoln dropped the telegram onto his desk and sat back in his chair. “Robert Van Buskirk told me that, if we want to win, we have to be prepared for a war of attrition.”
“Why should that be?”
Lincoln shrugged. “The fact of the matter is that the best generals from West Point went to the Confederacy when the war started. It’s only been very recently that our cavalry’s come anywhere near the skill of Rebels and we’ve only got three or four generals who really measure up to a general like Lee, Longstreet or Stuart. Our only advantage is more money and more people.”
Stanton reluctantly nodded agreement, but he didn’t look happy.
“At least we’ve got a commanding general that’ll fight now,” Lincoln said. “Until Grant, our army came back from Virginia with its tail between its legs after every battle.”
“Fighting isn’t enough. When the word of ten thousand dead soldiers hits the newspapers Grant will be vilified and our opposition will have a field day. Politically, we need a decisive victory.”
“We just have to couch the news as Grant maneuvering toward Richmond and Lee defending his home.” Lincoln rubbed his beard. “I wish Anna was here, for more reasons than one.”
“Anything from Pinkerton about her?”
“Nothing useful. His detectives found the corpses of the men who abducted Anna and murdered Colonel Nelson.”
“Corpses – were they murdered too?” Stanton asked.
Lincoln nodded. “Pinkerton believes that they were killed to conceal that they were agents of the Confederacy.”
“What kind of agents? Spies?”
“Pinkerton says that the Confederacy employs scoundrels to perform illegal acts. He implied that we do the same. We don’t, do we?”
“Not that I know of,” Stanton said, “but my faith in my fellow human beings has vanished and nothing would surprise me.”
“Pinkerton’s agents are going to concentrate on Confederate prison camps.”
Stanton looked at him in alarm. “From the reports I’ve read, she’d be better off dead than rotting in one of those hell-holes.”
May 15, 1864
Lay’s Ferry, Georgia
Captain William E. Merrill, General George Thomas’s chief engineer, watched like a proud father as fifty new pontoon bridges were unloaded from the transport wagons. “These are lighter than Cincinnati pontoons or Russian pontoons, easier to assemble and they’ll support fully loaded wagons, General.”
“So we’ve been hearing,” General William T. Sherman said. “Now let’s see.”
When Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston had withdrawn from Rocky Face Ridge to the hills near Resaca, Sherman had followed. On the 13th, Sherman launched a reconnaissance in force and the next day he launched a full-scale attack. Today the battle was continuing with no clear advantage to either side.
“How fast can you get this bridge built?” Sherman asked Captain Merrill.
“I really can’t say, sir,” Merrill replied. “We’ve never done this in the field.”
“Leave the boy alone, Cump,” Robert Van Buskirk whispered.
“The whole idea was to take Johnston’s flank by surprise,” Sherman grumbled.
“For all intents and purposes we took his flank when we secured this landing.” Robert pointed toward the hills. “Listen. Johnston’s artillery isn’t firing. He knows that we’re here and that he can’t stop us from turning his flank. He’s withdrawing.”
“I don’t want to keep chasing him,” Sherman said. “I want to destroy him.” He watched as the first pontoons were folded out and launched. “Can’t you hurry this up, Captain Merrill? Johnston’s trying to get away.”
“We’re going as fast as we can, sir,” Merrill answered.
“If we don’t catch him here we’ll catch him at Calhoun,” Robert said.
“I want him now,” Sherman replied. “I’m going to take Atlanta and Johnston’s in my way.”
May 21, 1864
The Wilderness
Spotsylvania County, Virginia
The weather had cleared on May 17th, and on the morning of the 18th Grant ordered an attack against the Confederate earthworks near Landrum house. At the time, Grant believed that Lee had moved the bulk of his army to a blocking position along Fredericksburg Road, but the information soon proved to be incorrect.
Hancock attacked from the center with Burnside on his left and Wright on his right. The Union soldiers made it only halfway to the Confederate fortifications before they were stopped by barriers and tangled in abatis. The Rebel gunners, who had had already zeroed their guns on the target area, opened up with devastating accuracy. Meade ordered a retreat before either side had fired a single small arms round.
Grant took the defeat in stride and on the 20th he ordered Hancock’s corps to follow the railroad line south toward Richmond, hoping that it would draw Lee out into the open. However, before Hancock began his march, Lee sent Ewell on a reconnaissance in force to locate Grant’s northern flank. The Confederates first contact was with a small artillery unit just east of the Harris farm. Grant reacted by sending the 1st Maryland Regiment followed by Birney’s infantry division to reinforce.
At about 9:00 PM the fighting was hot and Lee began to worry that Grant would attack in force while Ewell was too far from the main army. A short time later, Ewell received the order to withdraw, but his men were spread out over a wide area and he’d essentially lost control.
By dawn of the 21st, when Ewell received the after-battle headcounts from his unit commanders, he’d lost almost a thousand men.
During the night, Grant began the march south, but instead of engaging Grant, Lee took a parallel course to the North Anna River.
“I made a serious mistake in sending Sheridan’s cavalry away,” Grant said to Meade. “The battlefield was too big for one brigade to scout.”
“Sheridan did kill Stuart,” Meade replied. “That’s a serious blow for the Confederacy.”
Grant chose not to answer, but it was clear from his expression that he didn’t share Meade’s opinion.
“Any news from the West?” Meade asked to change the subject.
“I got a telegram from Sherman. He’s chasing Johnston across Georgia.”
“Good,” Meade said.
“Maybe not so good. Johnston’s picking up reinforcements as he retreats. He now has Polk’s corps plus Jackson’s and Martin’s cavalry divisions with him.”
May 22, 1864
Telegraph Road Bridge
Spotsylvania County, Virginia
Johnny Van Buskirk, with Urilla dressed in girl clothes sitting beside him, drove the two-horse buggy around the small earthen fort to where General Robert E. Lee and several of his commanders were assembled. “We have something interesting for you, General Lee,” Johnny called, waving a piece of paper over his head.
Lee, followed by his officers, approached the buggy. “What have you got?”
“A carbon copy of a decoded order from Grant to Meade,” Johnny replied as he offered the paper to Lee. “It was written less than an hour ago.”
“Read it to me, please,” Lee said. “I don’t have my spectacles.”
“I will, General.” Urilla plucked the order from Johnny’s hand. “It was written today at New Bethel, Virginia and addressed to Major General Meade, Commanding, Army of the Potomac.” She looked up and smiled at the circle of admiring officers for a moment before returning her attention to the page. “Direct corps commanders to hold their troops in readiness to march at 5:00
AM tomorrow. At that hour each command will send out cavalry and infantry on all roads to their front leading south, and ascertain, if possible, where the enemy is. If beyond the South Anna, the Fifth and Sixth-Corps will march to the forks of the road, where one branch leads to Beaver Dam Station, the other to Jericho Bridge, then south by roads reaching the Anna, as near to and east of Hawkins Creek as they can be found.
“The Second-Corps will move to Chesterfield Ford. The Ninth-Corps will be directed to move at the same time to Jericho Bridge. The map only shows two roads for the four corps to march upon, but, no doubt, by the use of plantation roads, and pressing in guides, others can be found, to give one for each corps.
“The troops will follow their respective reconnoitering parties. The trains will be moved at the same time to Milford Station. Headquarters will follow the Ninth-Corps.”
She gave the paper to Lee. “It’s signed, U.S. Grant, Lieutenant General.”
Lee squinted at the writing, then handed the order to his nephew, Fitzhugh Lee.
Fitz Lee glanced at it and nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s genuine. I recognize Grant’s writing style.”
“Of course it’s genuine,” Johnny said in a heated tone.
Fitz Lee chuckled and gave the order back to his uncle. “It isn’t every day that an order of this importance is intercepted, John. You can’t blame us for being taken aback.”
“I can and do blame you for doubting me, you buffoon,” Johnny snapped.
The older Lee raised his hand in a calming gesture. “We thank you for this,” he said to Johnny and Urilla, “but we ask that it be the last piece of intelligence that you collect on our behalf. The Federals are circulating posters that include your descriptions and likenesses. The drawings are poor, but a man with one leg and a pretty girl are fairly easy to spot.”
“Sir,” Johnny said. “Jeb Stuart was my friend…”
Urilla put her hand on Johnny’s arm. “We’re on our way home, General. My father’s plantation is only about five miles from here.”
“We’re not going home,” Johnny said angrily.
“You can do as you wish, but you’re taking me home first,” Urilla replied.
“Take your wife home and stay with her, John,” Lee advised. “You’ve done more than your share for our cause.”
“Good day to you, gentlemen.” Johnny flicked the reins angrily and turned the buggy toward the bridge.
“You’re being childish,” Urilla said.
“If we’re going to be judgmental of one another, I might have a comment or two about your flirtation with all those officers.”
“Flirtation? What are you talking about?”
“You grabbed the order from me so that you could read it and be the center of attention.”
“Oh, how petty can you be?”
“Did you think I’d miss your eyelash flutters and sidelong glances at Fitz?”
“Your imagination’s overactive.”
“Your libidinousness is overactive.” Johnny turned onto the dirt track that followed the river.
“I don’t know what that word means. If it’s really a word.”
“It’s really a word and it means your wanton desire to couple with any available man.”
“Couple?” She turned to glare at him. “That’s an awful thing to say. Vulgar too.”
“It’s the truth, vulgar or not. You’re like a bitch in heat.”
“You bastard. I’ve never – you know – done that – with anyone but you.”
“We’re talking about your desire, not your actions. Although it’s plain to see that it won’t be long before you’re acting on your desires.”
She looked away.
“I don’t hear any denials.”
She shrugged. “I can’t deny that I’m lustful. But if my husband was still a man, my lust might be satisfied.”
He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it without saying anything.
They rode in silence for some time.
Urilla turned to him. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you know. I asked my father. He said it’s all in your head. If you’d just relax…”
“You asked your father about me? You discussed my private business with your father?”
“It isn’t just your business, it’s mine too. And I needed to know if there was anything that I could do.”
“You asked your father?” he asked incredulously.
“He’s the only man I could ask.”
“Damn you.” He reined in the horses, set the brake and reached for his crutches.
“What are you doing?” Urilla asked.
“Getting out. You can drive yourself home.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the army.” He struggled to get down from the buggy.
“They don’t want you, Johnny.”
He took his crutches from the buggy and turned back toward the sound of battle. “Goodbye, Urilla.”
“Don’t think that I won’t drive off and leave you,” she warned.
“That’s what I want.”
“You better turn around now or I’m going.”
He kept levering himself up the road toward the bridge.
“If the Yankees catch you, they’ll hang you,” she shouted.
Johnny kept going.
“I’ll leave you,” she screamed. “I really will. I’m going now.” She watched him for another minute, then picked up the reins and released the brake. “Ha, horses. Get-up, there.”
May 23, 1864
Spotsylvania County, Virginia
Paul Van Buskirk dismounted, handed the reins to a groom, walked to the command tent and scratched on the flaps.
“Come in,” Grant called.
Paul ducked inside. “You sent for me, General?”
“Yes. Sit down.” Grant rubbed his eyes and then shook his head. “We have a situation.”
Paul sat, waiting for the shoe to drop.
“Your brother presented himself to some of our pickets stating that he’d turn himself in, but only to you.”
“Oh hell.”
“The pickets had orders to arrest him on sight and they ignored his demands.”
“Did they kill him?”
“No. But he resisted and they were none too gentle in subduing him. He’s being treated in the field hospital at Milford Station.”
“What should I do, sir?”
“Nothing officially, but you’re welcome to go see him, providing that you get back to your brigade as soon as possible.”
Paul nodded.
“There’s something else. He wants to be exchanged for your Aunt Anna. He claims to know where she is but he won’t tell us.” Grant waited a moment. “What do you think? Is he telling the truth?”
Paul thought a moment. “Yes, sir. It’s the only logical reason for him to turn himself in.”
“But he could have simply sent you, or anyone in the Union army, a message. The president would almost certainly authorize a suitable exchange. He and Mrs. Lincoln are very fond of Anna.”
Paul nodded. “I don’t know why he chose to offer himself, sir.”
Grant sighed. “I guess you realize that, although we’ll surely exchange for your aunt, we’re not obligated to offer your brother as the counterpart.”
“Johnny must know that too,” Paul said. “I don’t have any idea why he’d do this in this way.”
“Go see him. Maybe he’ll explain himself.”
Paul looked unsure.
“That wasn’t an order, Pea,” Grant said. “Go see him only if you want to.”
May 25, 1864
Milford Station, Virginia
Johnny awoke with a start and sat up in the bed. The hospital ward was dark, lighted only by a few trimmed lamps that were spaced along each wall. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but something had awakened him. He couldn’t remember what. Suddenly his bed rocked and someone crawled out from under it. “What the…”
“Hush,” Urilla hissed, loo
king over her shoulder at the rows of wounded soldiers. “You wanna get us killed?” She was wearing a shapeless faded calico dress, her hair was in an untidy bun and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“What happened to you?” Johnny whispered. “You look awful.”
“Nothing happened to me. I’m supposed to be a nurse and nurses are supposed to be plain as a mud-fence and have no figure.” She slid a pair of crutches out from under the bed. “The Yankees have double-crossed you. They’re exchanging some general that they captured for your aunt.” She looked over her shoulder again. “Hurry up. We’ve only got a few minutes before the new guards are posted.”
“Wait. I need to leave a note.”
“What?”
“I have to tell them where Aunt Anna’s being held.”
“They must know if they’re arranging an exchange.”
“They may be offering the exchange knowing that she’s a prisoner without knowing where she is. I can’t risk that. I have to tell them.”
“Well hurry up, for God’s sake.”
He searched the bedside table, found a pencil and a notepad and wrote: “Anna Van Buskirk Lagrange is incarcerated at Castle Thunder in Richmond” on the top page. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Urilla gave him the crutches.
Johnny pulled himself up onto the crutches and looked down at himself. “I can’t go out like this; I’m nearly naked.”
“If anybody sees you between here and the boat he’s going to be shooting at your bare butt, not admiring it. I’ve got clothes for you in the boat.”
“Boat? We’re a mile from the river, Urilla.”
Freedom (Gone For Soldiers) Page 26
