He stood up, indicating that the meeting was over.
The generals walked off, all except Longstreet, who lingered by the table.
"I think you ruffled up Beauregard," Pete said.
"Perhaps, but all it takes is for one loose-mouthed staff officer to spread the word; it leaks into Washington, and then an order goes out forbidding Sickles to move. I'm hoping now that the exact opposite will happen, that Sickles might very well get the order to move, and when he does, we are ready. Walter and Jed have done a magnificent job of drawing up routes of march, deployment of supplies, even possible positions for the bulk of our artillery so they can move quickly to where they are needed. This one is well planned, General Longstreet; all I have to do is give the word to go. I'm confident on this one."
Longstreet nodded back to the map and pointed at Harrisburg.
"Suppose he doesn't do what you expect. Then what?"
"Sickles?"
"No, Grant, sir. That is now our main concern."
"He will," Lee replied. "Grant will hesitate, caught off balance by Sickles, and then the administration will force him to detach troops to cover here. No, they will tie his hands as they have all the others."
"I hope so," was all Longstreet could say.
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
August 17,1863 9:00 P.M.
Haupt, good to see you." Grant came out of his chair, extending a hand as the frail figure of Gen. Herman Haupt stood by the open flap of his tent
The appearance of the man shocked him. He was wasting away by the day; by the light of the coal oil lamp he had a pale, yellowish cast to his skin, his cheeks were hollow, eyes sunken.
As Haupt took a seat across from Grant, the general made a decision, uncharacteristically, without reflection or contemplation of the impact it might have on his plans.
"Haupt, I think I should relieve you of your office. Send you home for a month or two."
Haupt looked up at him angrily and shook his head.
"I respectfully decline, sir."
"Damn it, man, you are dying."
Haupt smiled.
"Not yet, and besides you need me."
"Yes, I need you, but a lot of good you will do me or the army if you are dead."
"Not by a long shot yet, sir. Give me a few more weeks, let me sort out a few things, and then I'll take the leave you suggest."
"Suppose I order you to go home now, tonight?" Haupt chuckled.
"I'd refuse. And then what? Court-martial me for insubordination?"
Grant shook his head and laughed softly. "No, I'd never do that, Herman." "It's getting better, sir."
He could see the lie in that but decided that for the moment he could not push the issue further.
"What do you have for me?" Grant asked.
"I barely got through. It's chaos not fifty miles from here. Hampton's taken Lancaster and is even now riding toward Reading. I'll confess, he's made a mess of things for us. He caught a number of supply trains in the rail yard at Lancaster. Wrecked nine locomotives."
Grant could see that such wanton destruction of his precious machines troubled Haupt. At heart he was a builder, not a destroyer.
"We'll take care of him. But what else?"
"I've got ten more batteries of guns coming down from Albany. I'm routing them around Lancaster and Reading and they should be here late tomorrow. Remounts are still coming in via the Pennsylvania railroad."
Haupt paused for a moment, reached into his haversack, and pulled out a notebook, thumbing through the pages.
"Let's see now. Two thousand, three hundred and fifty horses from Ohio, eight hundred and seventy mules from Ohio and Indiana as well. Seventy-five more wagons out of Lancaster before Hampton hit it. Two regiments from Illinois and one from Indiana should arrive here in three days. The colored regiments from Philadelphia will transfer here starting tomorrow. I'm routing them up to New York and then across to the Pennsylvania and Susquehanna through Pottsville, yet again to avoid Reading. Replacement bridging is in place at Wheeling for the Baltimore and Ohio, and a million rations should be stockpiled there by the end of the month. Vouchers to all the rail lines involved have been drawn as well."
He thumbed through his notes.
"Shoes. I've got fifty thousand more coming down from
Massachusetts and Vermont, but that will take another week. We're still short of tentage; one of the trains Hampton took was loaded with them, and of replacement rails and some bridging material."
"The pontoon bridges?"
Haupt shook his head.
"Only enough for five thousand feet so far. I'm pushing it hard, sir, but the routing of trains is still something of a tangle from the Midwest. We've yet to successfully shift all the rolling stock back out there, and it's causing problems."
Grant extended his hand and patted Haupt on the arm.
"You're doing fine, just fine, Haupt."
Herman said nothing, eyes glazed as he stared off.
"I'd like you to get some rest Haupt If I lose you, I lose the one man I'm relying on most right now."
Haupt's shoulders seemed to sag, as if the words of comfort had placed upon him an additional burden.
"Sorry, sir. Sorry I took sick at this time."
"No apologies should be offered, Haupt."
"I'll be on the pontoon bridges first thing in the morning."
Grant sighed. There was no way he could simply detach this man, to send him home, to let him take a month to recover from his bout with dysentery. Even if he wanted to, he could not, not tonight
"Go and get some rest, General. And that is an order."
"Yes, sir."
Haupt legs visibly trembling, stood up and saluted. Grant guided him out of the tent and watched him walk off. As Haupt disappeared, he caught Parker's eye.
"Call for my surgeon again," Grant said. "I want that man taken care of."
Parker saluted and followed Haupt.
Grant stood by the open flap of his tent The night was cool, pleasant, a gentle breeze wafting in as he lit another cigar, coughed as he drew the first deep breath, inhaling the soothing smoke.
In the open fields beyond, hundreds of campfires illuminated the night He could hear distant laughter, songs, a banjo playing. Nearby several officers were passing a flask, laughing.
It was all so soothing, and in this moment, alone, he realized yet again that in spite of the horror, the tragedy of it all, he did love it. The scent of wood smoke on the breeze, mingled with the rich smell of hay, horses, a gentle August evening camped in the fields of Pennsylvania. Better, far better than Mississippi with its hot, sultry evenings without a breath of fresh air. This was good, a moment of pleasure regardless of all that had transpired in the last day.
As he looked out over the encampment, the men, his men, victorious veterans of so many hard-fought campaigns, he was captivated yet again by the sense of destiny, of power.
He knew they were ready for the task ahead. It was strange how one could sense such things, as if the will of seventy thousand could become but a single voice, a voice that said that together all would see it through to the end, no matter what the cost.
He closed the flap to his tent and returned to his desk. The urge for a drink was suddenly upon him. Strange how it would come when unexpected, unanticipated. Just one drink, a soothing taste to relieve the tension.
But he had made the promise to one whose trust he desired, and though he knew that he could find the bottle easy enough, hidden away in his trunk, he gave it not a second thought.
The latest dispatch from Washington had come in just before sunset Enemy fire all along a five-mile front heavy artillery bombardment, fear that a night assault might be launched.
A copy of the New York Herald was on the table, declaring that Washington was on the brink of collapsing, a paper from Philadelphia decrying the continued slaughter, calling for Lincoln to meet with Davis to end the war.
It was strange. He and Lincoln were separated by
not more than a hundred and fifty miles, but they could, in one sense, be as far away as if Lincoln was in China. Dispatches had to be routed through Philadelphia, to Port Deposit, and then by courier boat to Washington. Here again Haupt had set up such an efficient system that the secured envelopes moved efficiently, for their communications could not be trusted to any wire, where along the way a telegrapher could accept ten dollars from a reporter to divulge what the two were saying to each other.
And yet it was as if Lincoln was sitting with him now, in this tent, telling him to stay the course, to hold fast, to do what they had discussed in their brief meeting of a month past.
If anything, the cutting off of Washington was perhaps one of the great blessings of this campaign. Unlike McClellan, Burnside, Hooker, or Meade, he was, in fact, free. He was not tied by hourly telegraphs bombarding him with orders, counter-orders, demands, and entreaties. And yet he knew that something had changed in Lincoln as well. He remembered sitting in the White House, the two of them talking, Lincoln sharing the story of the colored White House servant who wanted to fight.
"That man focused the war for me, Grant," Lincoln had said. "He had not lost his nerve. He had seen the history of our republic across fifty years. He had seen the failure of the promise, but also the hope of the promise. I learned from him that we cannot fail, we will not fail, as long as men like him are willing to stand for what they believe in, to give the last full measure for what this dream of our republic can be."
And in that meeting he had learned that Lincoln's will, combined with his determination to see it through no matter what the cost, could indeed prevail.
Lee might very well attack Washington within the next day or two. He doubted that the man would take the risk. If the situation was reversed, he knew he would attack, regardless of loss, but the South could no longer afford that. But even if Washington did indeed fall, he would stay his own course and within a fortnight he would be ready to proceed.
He chafed at the waiting. Ord, Logan, Burnside, even Banks were ready to go, but it still depended on Haupt, the gathering of the supplies, of horses and mules, wagons and limber chests. Lee had the preponderance in artillery, a strange reversal of the moment, but even that could be overcome.
The waiting was painful, but it had to be endured till all the pieces were in place.
Only when all was ready would he move. He would not make the mistake he had made last autumn in front of Vicksburg. Lee was too savvy an opponent to give him that opening. When the time came, Lee would have to be so soundly defeated, in the field, in an open fight, that the hopes of the South would be forever dashed. It was not just a battle on the field of action; it was a battle that would have to shatter, once and for all, their will to fight Otherwise this conflict could drag on for years, fought in the mountains and bayous, a bitter fight that would forever pollute any hope of reconciliation.
He had to win, not just the battle, but the peace as well.
Chapter Seventeen
Perryville, Maryland
Headquarters Army of the Potomac
August 17, 1863 11:00 P.M.
Gen. Dan Sickles sat alone, contemplating the goblet of brandy in his hand, swirling it, letting the thick drink coat the sides of the glass, inhaling the fragrance, then taking a sip.
The moment had come. It had arrived faster than he had anticipated; another week, two weeks would have been preferable. He could still use another ten thousand in the ranks, some more guns. The Army of the Potomac was barely fifty thousand strong, two-thirds of them the old rank-and-file veterans, the remainder new troops, many of them ninety-day men. His recruiting effort had paid off handsomely, with returning veterans bringing four thousand new men into the ranks of seasoned regiments.
The new regiments he had distributed into hardened brigades, and he hoped that something would rub off on them. He had less than twenty batteries of artillery, many of them just three or four guns, but the crews were die pick of the old Army of the Potomac, consolidated out of many of the old artillery reserve units. Of cavalry he was very short as well. Stoneman could barely put five thousand sabers into the field.
All day long courier boats had scurried in from Washington. He had tried to intercept the dispatches destined for Grant, but they had been carried by men from Grant's headquarters who couldn't be swayed to reveal the contents.
But the news was clear enough and he didn't need to read the dispatches and secrets of Grant He had so conveniently set up a telegraph station and announced it was open to whomever needed it on 'Vital business of the public interest" that reporters from the New York papers and the Associated Press were hurrying back to use it.
Thus he knew a heavy bombardment had been going on for nearly two days; the rebels were firing off artillery ammunition with abandon, shelling the Washington fortification line along a seven-mile front. A dozen shots from the heavy guns had been dropped into the edge of the city. There was a report that one shell had burst on the Capitol grounds itself, killing a horse.
Some reported an air of panic, especially among the colored of the city, who were desperate to get out, but passage on boats was forbidden except for military purposes.
One report stated Lincoln had been wounded when he had gone up to watch the bombardment of Stevens, and that had created a true panic, only to be negated when the next dispatch boat anchored, the reporters on board dismissing the claim.
All were convinced though that Lee was preparing an all-out assault, one that would strike perhaps within the day.
Next there was the news of Wade Hampton. That had been confirmed when in a delightful display of arrogance Hampton personally sent a dispatch to the Philadelphia Inquirer via telegraph from Lancaster, inviting them to come and give an interview, or, if the paper desired, he would visit their offices within the week.
Hampton had actually created a wonderful situation for the Army of the Potomac. Dispatches and orders between Harrisburg and Washington now had to be routed through New York and it was causing delays, confusion.
It was wonderful. And Sickles was determined to take advantage of it
"General Sickles, the dispatch from the War Department is here."
Dan looked up; the sentry had opened the tent flap. A young captain, one of his own staff, entered and saluted, handing a sealed dispatch from Stanton. It was a private arrangement the two had agreed to the week before, and all day he had been anxiously awaiting what he hoped would be orders.
Dan motioned for the man to wait and opened the envelope, recognizing Stanton's bold handwriting. He scanned the letter, then reread it again carefully, smiling.
"How were things when you left?" Dan asked.
"Sir, everyone's on edge. There was a report of an attack column being seen forming up along the Blandenburg road. Word is the rebels will attack this evening."
Dan nodded, studying the dispatch. It was a copy; the original was already on its way to Grant, but he would not receive it until some time tomorrow. It was an appeal to Grant from Stanton to consider releasing additional reinforcements for Washington, but far more important, it was a request to authorize the Army of the Potomac to make a reconnaissance in force on Baltimore, by land, sea, or both, to ascertain if Baltimore could be retaken, and, if possible, to do so and from there to threaten Lee's rear. In addition there was a second note, in Stanton's hand, directed to Sickles. The wording of it was important and he studied it carefully.
All indications are that the rebels will storm the capital today, or no later than tomorrow. This is based upon reliable intelligence gathered from deserters and observations of their movements. One of the primary missions of the Army of the Potomac since the start of this conflict has been the protection of this city and the Administration. Though final orders for troop movements must come from the General Commanding, nevertheless I believe it is within your authority to exercise the traditional role of the Army of the Potomac and to find some means to exert pressure upon the Army of Northern Virginia and dive
rt them from this impending attack....
It was precisely the excuse he had been looking for, an idea that had been well placed with several congressmen and senators across the last week and Stanton, as to be expected, snapped at the bait
He dismissed the staff officer and settled back in his chair, pouring another drink, then lighting a cigar.
Yes, there was an opportunity here that could come perhaps only once in a lifetime. It was fraught with peril, but then again, what opportunity did not also pose a risk? He could steal the march and have the bulk of his forces across the river before Grant was even aware of what he was doing. He could, as well, then delay the recall, which he knew would come, doing so by the time-honored tradition of "lost" dispatches, misinterpretations, and claims that communications had been cut If cornered, he had this letter, direct from Stanton, as his defense, but by then he would already be into Baltimore, and at that point not even Grant would dare to venture a recall. Instead the general from the West would have to march to his support or appear to be the one playing politics, risking the Army of the Potomac out of a fit of pique that he had not achieved what this army of the East phoenix-like, had done on its own.
Lee would not take this lying down. If already in the city of Washington, he would most likely try and hold that position, then turn with part of his force to engage. The numbers then would be almost even, forty-five to fifty thousand on each side. Lee would have to leave at least one of his three corps behind, most likely Beauregard's, to occupy the city. Then it would be an open stand-up fight.
And if ever he had confidence in his boys, it was now. They had tasted the most bitter of defeats. The cowards, the shirkers, had all deserted, and though many a valiant lad and many a good senior officer had fallen in the last campaign, the core that was left was as tough as steel, wanting nothing more than revenge, to restore their honored name.
With that victory his own place would be assured. Grant would be forced to treat him as a co-commander, and that upstart so unfamiliar with the finer nuances of politics, would soon be left in the dust and it would become clear to the public that he, Sickles, had won this war.
Grant Comes East - Civil War 02 Page 36
