Cassie laughed. “Mariah is my friend as well as my servant, and she has her own male friend in the contraband camp, and I only recently found out what fun and games my parents played at before they were married.”
He pretended shock. “Are you telling me they had a storeroom as well?”
She giggled and guided his hand inside her bodice and onto her breast. Other than the now despised Richard, she had never let any man touch her like she was letting Steve. And she never thought it would feel so good. Too bad they would have to stop in a few minutes.
“Cassie,” shouted Rachel. “I’m coming up with Steven’s uniform.”
“Yes, Mother,” she said. She turned to tell Steve that his virtue was also safe, but realized that the young major was sound asleep.
Abraham Lincoln was the sixteenth president of the United States. He was the commander in chief of the army and the navy. His army contained close to a million men and his navy consisted of more than a thousand ships, although most of them were small. He was one of the most powerful men in the world. So why did he feel so helpless?
He gazed about the room at his council of war. Secretary of War Stanton was there, glowering as usual. Commanding General Henry Halleck looked both owlish and puzzled, while George Gordon Meade, commander of the Army of the Potomac, would not look Lincoln in the eye. Only the Quartermaster General, Montgomery Meigs, appeared confident. Secretary of State Edwin Seward completed the group. Lincoln thought Seward doubtless had more bad news to share. He couldn’t wait to hear it.
Lincoln, of course, chaired and spoke first. “Gentlemen, let us be blunt and brief so we can all get back to our respective duties. First and foremost, what the devil is General Lee up to?”
Stanton responded. “I think it’s obvious, sir. He is launching the long-awaited attack on Washington. I believe this will be an all-out attempt to take the city and bring us to the negotiating table.”
Lincoln nodded. “General Halleck, do you concur?”
“I do, sir. And if you ask me, you should be making preparations to evacuate the government from Washington to whatever place you designate. Already, people are beginning to leave and, just as hordes of refugees are trying to take shelter behind our defenses.”
“Thank you,” said Lincoln. “General Meade, if Lee comes, can you defeat him as you did at Gettysburg?”
“I can and will,” Meade said stoutly. But Lincoln had caught the momentary hesitation and flicker of doubt in his eyes before he answered. Yes, he might stop Lee, but would he drive him away or would there be another stalemate? The answer was easy—he would not be able to do either.
Lincoln stood and towered over the group. “General Meigs, your thoughts, please.”
Brigadier General Meigs was the lowest-ranking man in the room, but he was not intimidated. “Lee will not attack our defenses. I rather wish he would. If he were to be that foolish, his army would ruin itself by being impaled on the fortifications that circle the city.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Halleck scornfully. “Why wouldn’t he attack and if he isn’t going to, just what on earth is he up to?”
Meigs responded. “Gentlemen, kindly recall that I am responsible for seeing to it that the massive Union Army is properly supplied in all ways. It is an enormous and sometimes thankless undertaking. However, it is the same with the Army of Northern Virginia, which, by many estimates, is now close to a hundred thousand strong. These men must be fed and clothed and, as at Gettysburg, Lee’s men are running out of food. The Army of the Potomac requires at least five hundred tons of supplies each day, and the same must hold true for Lee.”
Lincoln smiled. Meigs’ thinking paralleled his own. He thought highly of Meigs. For one thing, the general was the only army officer who took the Ager gun seriously. The “coffee-mill gun,” as some called it, was a rotary weapon that could fire well over a hundred rounds a minute. Lincoln had been quite impressed by it on seeing it demonstrated. He had tried to get General Ripley interested in the gun, but neither he nor any of his staff in the Ordnance Corps could be bothered with it, any more than they could repeating rifles. “I agree with General Meigs. Lee will not launch a major attack against our rings of interlocking forts that have made us possibly the most fortified city in the world. He would destroy his army even if he were able to punch his way in. No, gentlemen, this is nothing more than a massive and impressive feint, which, of course, we cannot ignore. We must honor the threat to Washington, but the hammer will not fall here unless we do something inordinately foolish, like sending the Army of the Potomac out to duel with Lee. Tell me, General Meigs, what would you be doing if you were Lee?”
Meigs gazed off into distance, as if in contemplation of the mystery of Leehood. “Sir, confident that we will not move aggressively against him, I would send a major component of the army out on a massive foraging expedition to bring much-needed supplies to the army.”
“How much of a component do you think Lee has sent away?” asked the President.
“A quarter, perhaps a third. And I would have it commanded by someone reliable, like Hardee or Longstreet,” answered Meigs. He was almost radiantly happy to be listened to and be the center of attention.
“I find all this hard to believe. It absolutely flies against logic,” said Halleck, and Meade nodded. Stanton and Seward merely looked thoughtful.
Lincoln again turned to Meade. “General Meade. I believe that General Meigs is right and that Lee’s army is severely weakened. Will you, therefore, take the Army of the Potomac out and attack him?”
Meade paled. “If I am so ordered, I will do so to the utmost of my ability, sir.”
Halleck’s eyes bugged out even more than usual. “I would be honored to take command.”
And neither one of you will succeed, thought Lincoln. Neither of you is anywhere near the equal of Robert E. Lee, even if his army was severely reduced. “Thank you for volunteering, but that won’t be necessary. The Army of the Potomac will hold back and protect Washington on the off-chance that General Meigs and I are wrong.”
There was an audible sigh of relief around the table. Only Stanton and Meigs looked unhappy, while Seward looked puzzled. “Secretary Seward, do you have anything to add?”
“Only that the French are back to being French again. Their invasion of Mexico, in defiance of our Monroe Doctrine, is not going very well for them. I have heard rumors that they will massively reinforce their army in Mexico if we are unable to corral Lee. If we are defeated, there will be pressure on their government to recognize the Confederacy, which would cause all kinds of problems for us.”
Lincoln looked out the window. There was a long line of people waiting outside the White House to see him and the line inside was just as long. “And to think, gentlemen, when I awoke this morning, the only thing I thought I had to worry about was my wife’s latest shopping spree. Yesterday, dear Mary bought God only knows how many pairs of gloves, and God only knows why. Thank God I am not poor and can afford her profligacies.”
There were smiles and polite chuckles. Mary Todd Lincoln’s shopping adventures were well known. “We will adjourn,” said Lincoln. “We will watch and wait.”
When the room was emptied, the President again looked out the window. He was in despair. He had a magnificent army and no one to lead it. Was it time to reconsider Grant’s terms? He would have to think on it. He needed rest. He felt a headache coming on and there were all those people who wanted to see him.
Otto Bauer waded the last few feet and clambered up the mud bank of the Union side of the Susquehanna. A couple of his men laughingly handed him towels. “Did you find Lee?” one of them asked.
“No, but I found that my boot will fit right up your arsch.”
The men all laughed some more and Otto laughed along with them. They were good men. Better, they were comrades. “I will report nothing to the major because there is nothing to report. I saw signs that people had been around and watching us and they likely were Confederates, but I saw no army.�
�
“How far did you go?” asked one of the older men.
“About three miles. I managed to get on a hill and climb a good-sized tree where I could see a whole lot further, but, again, there was nothing. Therefore, I will not report. The major is a good man although a little too full of himself. I will not add to his burden.”
Coffee was brewing and there were beans and some fresh bread. The beans even had some chunks of pork floating around in it. The meal was good and he was exhausted. He informed his squad that he was going to take a nap.
It was dawn of the next day when he woke up. When he realized that his men had let him sleep that long he swore. They were unrepentant. “You were tired. We need you alert so we let you rest. You snore like a hog, by the way.”
Otto shook his head and went down to the Susquehanna to relieve himself. He looked across and into the woods about a mile away and froze. There was motion in the woods and he thought he could see some color. Whatever it was it definitely wasn’t part of the Union Army. And was somebody watching him? And might that somebody have a rifle aimed right at his thick skull? Why hadn’t he anticipated that the Rebels might move at least some units at night? Damn it to hell!
As nonchalantly as he could, he finished peeing and buttoned up. He casually walked up to his men, who had sensed his concern and had stopped laughing. They awaited his orders.
“There are a handful of us and maybe hundreds of the enemy closing in on this spot. We will quietly gather our goods and get over the top of the hill. Then we will stop and see what is actually coming. Henry, you will be prepared to run as fast as you can to any officer to report what I will tell you. Is that understood?”
Henry was fourteen years old and understood that Otto was sending him away because of his youth. Henry decided he didn’t mind at all. “Yes, Otto, I mean Corporal.”
They gathered their gear and made it to the top of the hill without incident. The woods that hid monsters were well out of range of rifle, but not of cannon. Several cannon barked and sent shells towards them. The soldiers scattered as round shot hit and sent gobs of earth flying. They made it over the crest of the hill, where Otto counted noses. One man was missing, Henry.
Otto slid over the crest, trying to make himself either invisible or a small target. It didn’t take long to find Henry, or at least what was left of him. The shell must have struck him cleanly, a one in a million shot that had torn him to red shreds. Otto wanted to weep. Henry was just a little boy. He should have been home with his mother.
But he quickly realized he had bigger problems than grieving for one young soldier. Large numbers of cavalry were coming down the trail and rows of infantry were forming up. More cannon fired. The shells went over the hill and there was no place to hide. Nor would he and his squad make any attempt to stop the entire Confederate Army from crossing the river at this point. They would retreat and try to make contact with the major. He would know what to do.
★ ★ ★
Wade’s Tennessee Volunteers were not the first cavalry detachment to cross the Susquehanna River. A couple of Virginia regiments commanded by Jeb Stuart had taken that honor. The men yelled and waved their hats as they crossed into a fresh part of Pennsylvania. The state capital, Harrisburg, was within easy reach. Was that their target? They didn’t know, but they were looking forward to punishing the Yankees one more time.
They fanned out and created a safe perimeter that permitted a long line of Confederate infantry to cross in safety. When it was their turn, Wade’s cavalry felt exultation. Like mischievous kids, they whooped and hollered and splashed each other. Wade joined in the merriment until he saw the human remains on the hill.
“Jesus,” he said. “It looks like this poor son of a bitch tried to catch a cannon ball with his chest.”
“At least he went quickly,” said Captain Mayfield. “It beats the hell out of yelling and screaming in a hospital for days, maybe even weeks.”
“You’re right. Let’s get some men to bury him or at least cover him with enough dirt so that we don’t have to look at the poor boy. I know there’s not much left to look at, but I would surmise that he’s only about twelve or so. If the Yanks are drafting them that young we’ve got this war all but won.”
Mayfield laughed and averted his eyes from the grisly sight. They’d all seen violent death, but this one struck them hard. “Naw, this lad wasn’t drafted. I’ll bet you a one-dollar Union greenback that he’s somebody’s little boy who had run off to see the elephant.”
“And I won’t bet against that,” said Wade. “Now if only we knew what we are going to do and where, we’d all be a lot happier.”
“Well, Corey, here comes Jeb Stuart and I’ll bet you that Longstreet is close on his heels. I will bet you another dollar that we are going to take part in the biggest, baddest raid in the history of the Confederacy.”
Otto was too far away to hear what the two men had to say and he couldn’t read lips. They were just barely in range and any shots from him would bring and instant and angry reaction that could easily prove fatal. It was a shame that Henry Watson was dead, but that’s what war was all about. He’d tried to tell that to the boy and had failed. His mother had insisted that Henry go with him, thinking that he’d be safer with the man who had been courting her. Now, he thought sadly, Martha Watson would likely not want to have anything to do with him, and he couldn’t blame her.
He was incredulous when he saw a trio of rebels dig a shallow grave and pour Henry into it. It was a sign of respect he hadn’t anticipated. Maybe there was hope for man on this globe after all.
There was a knock on the door and his valet James announced his visitor. Davis got to his feet and brushed his coat. He glanced at the door behind which his secretary of state awaited.
The British envoy entered to room, still carrying his walking stick in one gloved hand.
Davis stopped forward. “Mr. Wallingford.”
Slipping his walking stick under his arm, Wallingford eased off a kidskin glove and took Davis’ extended hand. “Mr. President.”
Davis gestured him to a seat. The meeting was taking place at his home rather than his presidential offices. It was not “official” by any means. The British could not be seen in discussions with the Confederacy at this point, at least. For similar reasons there was no presentation of credentials. Charles Wallingford, as far as Davis knew, was merely a businessman with interests in British North America that brought him across the Atlantic on a regular basis. Whatever other status he held Davis knew nothing, and didn’t need to know.
Wallingford appeared younger than he would have thought. Trim white trousers, a tight waistcoat, an impeccably tailored jacket, a riot of light-brown curls brushed back from the forehead. Add the gloves and stick and the first word that came to Davis’ mind was “fop.”
“How did you find your journey to Richmond, sir?”
“Not as difficult as I’d feared. Your opponents are not maintaining an effective interdiction by any means.”
“They have other worries to occupy their minds.”
The envoy smiled. “Indeed they do, sir.” He bent forward in the chair. “I must admit that General Lee’s performance has been most impressive. Though some of our officers believe his current position in Pennsylvania is untenable.”
“Many thought the same of Winfield Scott’s advance into Mexico.”
Wallingford nodded. “So they did, sir. The Iron Duke among them.”
“But to give you a clearer picture . . .” Davis handed him the report. Wallingford accepted it and sat back to leaf through it.
After a moment he looked up. “Lee seems to have Meade checkmated.”
“So it appears. After Gettysburg, our hearts were in our throats. But Lee’s riposte totally negated any victory Washington might have claimed. What other commander since Wellington could have accomplished such a feat?”
“None to my knowledge.” Wallingford shifted in his chair. “This adds some point to the matte
r under consideration . . .”
“Indeed it does, sir. That being the case, I would like to include my secretary of state as we proceed.”
Wallingford raised both hands in concurrence. Davis got to his feet and went to the door at the rear of the room. He opened it to find Judah Benjamin waiting in the hall.
Davis made the introductions. Benjamin greeted Wallingford with his broad face wreathed in a smile. Davis was pleased to see that the Englishman took Benjamin’s hand with no hesitation—they had been warned of the common British antipathy toward Jews. But then, the notable British politician Disraeli was also a son of Israel.
Benjamin went over the situation in detail. Wallingford listened, asking only a few questions. “The North has more resources, more industry, and more men,” Benjamin concluded. “But they have not been able to marshal them effectively. The reason is lack of leadership, from Lincoln on down. Mr. Lincoln has been reduced to empty gestures, such as his recent ‘proclamation.’ He seems to think that instigating a servile revolt will make up for ineptness on the battlefield. He has spent this war looking for a general. We do not believe he will find one.”
Wallingford pursed his lips. “And what of Vicksburg, sir?”
“A setback. We will not deny it. But the cockpit of this war is in the northeast. The decision will be made there and nowhere else.”
“It is a pity that General Lee is not here to speak his piece,” Davis added. “I believe you would be suitably impressed.”
“General Lee is an impressive figure.”
“Not to forget his army,” Benjamin said. “The Army of Northern Virginia is one of the finest military forces ever assembled on this continent.”
“I am inclined to agree.” Wallingford smiled. “A confession, gentlemen: I visited the army on my way here from Canada.”
Davis reared back in surprise. “Sir?”
“You did?”
Wallingford nodded. There was more to this young man than Davis had assumed.
The Day After Gettysburg Page 11