"He is relentless once fixed on an objective. Though sensitive to the point of illness at the sight of blood, he can stand back and let it flow. Shiloh is an example we should look at carefully, sir. He turned it into a grinding match that finally broke Beauregard."
"Yet in many ways that battle was inconclusive."
"Inconclusive only because he did not have the authority to follow up. Halleck stepped in. I dare say, if Grant had been given full authority then, he would've pushed Beauregard clear to the Gulf of Mexico and not just to Corinth."
"Halleck. Sadly, those days are over," Lee said quietly, taking a sip of his tea.
"Precisely, sir."
"What do you think that portends?"
"That Lincoln has not yet lost his nerve, not by a long shot. In a way, he's sacked perhaps two of our best friends. Halleck, as you know, was always by the book. Stanton tended to work at cross-purposes to the administration in Washington."
Longstreet slapped the table with his fist and shook his head.
"Sorry, sir. I forgot to tell you. Lincoln did indeed sack Stanton yesterday." Lee said nothing.
"Sorry. Word was out on the wires late yesterday. We have some boys who've tapped into the line from Washington that they've run across land to the Chesapeake. Stanton is out."
"Replaced by?"
"Elihu Washburne. Congressman from Illinois. The man who nominated Lincoln at the Republican convention. Perhaps more importantly he was Grant's congressman and apparently a close friend of his."
"That is news," Lee said quietly. "That means Grant has the full support of the administration. Carte blanche from now on."
"Sir, you just asked me to speak freely." "Yes, I did."
"I think it's time for us to get back across the Potomac."
"Why so?" Lee asked.
"There is nothing more to accomplish here."
"I would disagree, General Longstreet. We hold Baltimore, we still threaten Washington, we have supplies to see us clean through the spring if need be."
"Sir, may I present my case?" Longstreet asked.
"Of course, General. I need to hear what you have to say, though it does surprise me, your thought of conceding this ground without a fight, when I believe we could finally settle the issue here once and for all."
"Sir, we've destroyed the Army of the Potomac, a stated goal of our mission back in June. We've brought Maryland into the Confederacy. I think, at this point, a strategic withdrawal into northern Virginia would be prudent.
"We do a methodical and orderly withdrawal out of Baltimore now, and Grant just swings on empty air when he comes in. We also take apart the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad as we pull back, take down every bridge, burn all the rolling stock left behind, tear apart the switching yards, burn the roundhouses, and take the heavy tools and machinery.
"If we pull out now, starting tomorrow, we can take with us every locomotive in this town, tear up track to take as well, even haul some of the machinery out of the factories as we go. Escort all that as we leave, and it would be a bonanza for our railroads in the South."
Lee did not respond.
Longstreet, warming to his position, pressed forward. "Sir, you might recall all the equipment that Jackson snatched from the Baltimore and Ohio back at the start of the war. It was brilliant and gave our side locomotives we desperately needed."
Lee smiled at the memory of how, in the early days of the struggle, Jackson had pulled off a wonderful hoodwinking of the Baltimore and Ohio, convincing them that they could only run trains in convoys at certain times, but he would not interfere with their operations in Maryland. Then, when the moment was right, he had raided across the river, blocked the track, and trapped an entire convoy of locomotives, supplies, and rolling stock. The equipment had been taken into Virginia and proved essential in keeping the Southern cause alive.
"Sir. If we take all their locomotives and rolling stock, then tear everything else apart, it would cripple their logistical support for months. It'd give us a lot of breathing room once out of Maryland with nothing but the wreckage of railroads behind us. Grant's offensive would grind to a halt."
"You know I don't like wanton destruction," Lee replied. "And remember, Maryland is now on our side. We cannot abandon it so lightly, or engage in such destruction in a state that is now part of our Confederacy.
"And what of our president's orders to hold Baltimore?" Lee asked. 'To hold Maryland?"
Longstreet said nothing for a moment.
"Sir, you asked for my opinion, which means relating to the military situation, not a response to what the civilian government told us to do."
"Why the caution now, General Longstreet?"
"The cost, sir. Our total casualties have been well over sixty thousand since May. We've lost over a dozen generals, scores of regimental commanders. Some of our finest divisions have been fought to a mere shell. Pickett, Pender, Anderson, Johnson, Heth are all down to a fraction of their original strength.
"Withdraw across the Potomac, hold the fords—and in another eight weeks the campaign season will be over till spring. That will give time for the wounded to heal, to reorganize, bring regiments back up to strength. Our boys will understand it, sir. In fact, they'll welcome it."
"And yet that gives Grant time as well," Lee said. "We believe he has four corps with him at this very moment. Wait till spring and it might be six or seven corps."
"Sir, though it's not our realm, I think Secretary Benjamin would agree with me as well. It would give time for Europe to react to your victories, perhaps bring France into the picture, with luck maybe even England, too. This war is, ultimately, one in which we achieve a political victory. Either Lincoln is impeached or is voted out of office. All we need do now is hold on till one or the other happens. Lincoln is undoubtedly pushing Grant to fight. Let us not give him that opportunity, and then see what happens."
Lee said nothing, letting his gaze drop to the maps on the table.
He had originally sought Pete's advice simply to examine the moment, what needed to be done the next few days, but instead his "right arm" had opened a far broader examination: a fundamental decision of what was to come not just tomorrow but in the weeks ahead.
"I cannot withdraw," Lee said, staring at the map.
"Because of President Davis?"
"Yes, in fair part. We have been ordered to hold Maryland and Baltimore, and I must not abandon such orders lightly. There is, as well, a logic to his orders to us. If we do indeed win the peace this fall, it is essential that Maryland be part of our new nation. It will force the Federals to abandon Washington as their capital, will insure that the Chesapeake Bay is controlled by us, and give us the one major industrial center in the South. We abandon that, we abandon a major position of stability after the war is over."
"Even if, in holding, we lose all, sir?"
"We will not lose," Lee said bluntly. "General Longstreet, we will not lose."
"Sir, if I might be so bold, please enlighten me about your thinking," Longstreet replied.
"Just this, General. I see no reason to assume that an encounter with Grant will go against us. Yes, he has caught us off guard for the moment, but such is war.
"You were not with me in May, when Hooker made his move up the Rappahannock. I will confess, in private, he did catch me completely off guard with the audacity of that move. We were outnumbered, before your arrival, nearly three to one. Whichever way I turned I would be flanked, and yet we did fight our way out of that, turned the tables, and won a stunning success, thanks be to God."
"The cost, though, sir—Jackson lost, nearly twenty thousand killed or wounded."
"Yes, I know, but success we did have."
"We've paid that price twice more over these last two months. Sir, we are running dry. Defeat Grant at a cost of twenty thousand and this army will be a burned-out shell of its former self."
"I see no reason to anticipate that price," Lee said sharply. He leaned over the table and swept his hand
across the map. "Grant will come at us from one of two directions and we will know what it will be within forty-eight hours.
"If he advances en masse, along the railroad, we either go for maneuver to flank or we dig in, perhaps near Relay Station, just west of here, and let him try us in the type of battle you always seek, good defensive ground for them to bleed out on."
"His other choice?" Longstreet asked softly.
"He takes the broader strategic move. Goes down the
Cumberland Valley, takes Hagerstown and Harpers Ferry, then threatens to advance into Virginia or draw us westward into a fight along the South Mountain range."
"And your thoughts, sir?"
Lee sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Too early to tell. This is, after all, only the second day of maneuver for both of us. The path down the Cumberland, to gain proper position, will take him a week or more, and he knows it will give us the time that we need. The direct advance would mean a crisis in three to five days.
"I suspect that even if Grant is operating on his own initiative, Lincoln will still put his finger into his plans. After the humiliation with the Army of the Potomac, I believe Lincoln desperately needs some kind of victory as quickly as possible. He'll push for the direct assault."
"But will Grant agree to that, sir?"
"If Lincoln orders it, he has to, the same as I would have to if directly ordered by the president," Lee replied.
"One more sharp battle, another day like Union Mills, where we lured him into a fight on our ground, and we have him, and this nightmare is finished."
"One more day, sir?"
"Yes, that should do it."
Longstreet nodded.
'Then you agree with my position, Pete?" Lee asked. Longstreet forced a smile. "Sir, you command this army, and I follow orders." "But do you agree?"
"Sir, I've voiced my opinion," Longstreet replied. "But if you are confident of victory, then it is my job to help you in any way possible to achieve that."
"I will continue to weigh your suggestions, Pete," Lee replied, again using the more familiar first name. "Thank you. As I have said publicly many times these last seven weeks, your suggestion at Gettysburg that we abandon that field and go for a flanking march was the crucial element in . creating our victory at Union Mills."
"Thank you, sir. May I offer one further suggestion?"
"Certainly."
"Either way, the B and O line will be important to us. May I suggest we contract with them now to get it fully operational as far as Frederick and position some supplies, perhaps some troops and artillery there."
"It will be the first time this army has relied upon such means for direct movement on a tactical level."
"Actually, sir, it was crucial at First Manassas, and Beauregard is familiar with its uses at Corinth and also the transfer of his troops up here. It is something I believe we should have paid attention to earlier."
Lee nodded in agreement.
"You're right. We should have looked into the use of the B and O earlier. I'll ask Secretary Benjamin if he would be willing to go over to their offices."
"And one other thing, sir."
"Go on."
"Get the pontoon bridges ready. We have enough captured bridging to run a span across the Potomac. I think they should be loaded on to flatcars and perhaps moved, prepositioned, over toward Frederick."
"Now? Move them now?"
"Yes, sir."
"General Longstreet, there is a chance that a sound-enough defeat of General Grant might afford us the opportunity to think aggressively, very aggressively, indeed. Perhaps even to span the Susquehanna in pursuit. We would need that bridging material shifted north instead of west."
"Sir, if we move the bridging material west to Frederick by rail, and Grant is indeed smashed, it will take but hours for us to return it to Baltimore."
"Why this insistence, General Longstreet?"
"Call it an ace up the sleeve, sir. If things should indeed go wrong, right now we are reliant on but several fords to disengage our army and pull back into Virginia. The pontoon bridges give us greater flexibility, and frankly, sir, I'd like us to have that extra ace."
Lee was silent for a moment.
"Sending them west, might that not give the wrong message to some, that we are preparing to evacuate?"
"If it does, so what, sir? Perhaps it might embolden Grant to move rashly and make a mistake. Either way, those pontoons are a nightmare to move. We all know that. It took Burnside weeks just to bring them up fifty miles last November and cost him the opportunity to get across the Rappahannock before we were into position. I urge you, sir, move them now."
Lee finally nodded in agreement.
"Who is in charge of them?"
"A Maj. Zachariah Cruickshank. He use to be in command of First Corps' supply train. After we captured the pontoons from the Yankees at Union Mills I transferred to him the responsibility for their movement."
'Transferred? Why?"
"Well, sir, he has a bit of a problem with the bottle. A profane man as well, but one of the best men for running wagons I ever saw. It's just he got a bit insubordinate with me a few times when drunk, and I felt it was best that we distanced ourselves for his good and mine."
"Insubordinate to you?"
Longstreet smiled.
"I'd rather not repeat what he said, sir. But regardless of that, like I said, he's a man who can be relied on when it comes to moving wagons."
'Tell this profane major to go down to the rail yards, find the right people there, and prepare to load for a move to Frederick."
"Yes, sir."
"But do not misinterpret this caution, General Longstreet. I want all my generals to realize and to know in their hearts that I plan to seek out General Grant, meet him in the field, and in one sharp action defeat him as we have defeated all others who have come against us."
"Of course, sir," Longstreet said quietly.
CHAPTER FIVE
Baltimore and Ohio Rail Yard Baltimore
August 23 1:00 P.M.
You mick son of a bitch, come back here!" The yard boss turned, glaring at Maj. Zachariah Cruickshank, commander of the pontoon bridge train, Army of Northern Virginia, with a dark eye. Several of his fellow workers gathered around behind their boss, one of them hoisting a sledgehammer and swinging it one-handed. Cruickshank's men, a hard-bitten lot themselves, stepped closer to their major, one of them unclipping the flap on his revolver, another beginning to uncoil a bullwhip.
"Go ahead and shoot me," the yard boss snarled, "but I'll be damned if I'll take your ordering me around like some damn slave. This is my rail yard, not yours."
Cruickshank was tempted to do just that, shoot the son of a bitch. Not kill him, just blow a hole in his foot or arm to make the point. General Longstreet had ordered him to get the pontoon train loaded up, and by damn he had to do it. Now this dumb Irish Yankee was giving him back talk.
He looked around as more of the yard crew came over. Tough-looking men every one of them. Some were grinning, expecting the start of a donnybrook, and were picking up sledges, pickaxes, pieces of ballast.
"Most of 'em are goddamn Yankees," a sergeant standing next to Cruickshank whispered. "Let's go at 'em and take this damn place. I can get your trains for you, sir."
The men around Cruickshank muttered agreement.
Kill some of those sons of bitches, Cruickshank thought, and it will be my ass hauled before Old Pete again, the threat of court-martial real this time.
CruIckshank wearily shook his head, reached into his haversack, and pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey and held it up.
"Let's you and me talk," Cruickshank said, glaring at the yard boss. It galled him that he had to be reduced to making this offer, but damn all, he had orders from Longstreet himself and had to see them through.
The yard boss looked at the bottle, then nodded his head, turned to his men, and yelled at them to go back to work. Cruickshank ordered his men to
back off, walked over to the yard boss, and together they climbed into an empty boxcar and sat down.
The two sides, like two street gangs waiting to see if it would be work or fight, stood apart, watching as their chiefs negotiated. A gesture from either would mean a bloodbath.
Cruickshank handed over the bottle; the yard boss uncorked it and took a long pull.
"Good stuff," he gasped. "This town's been dry as a bone ever since you rebs came in and confiscated all the liquor."
"There's plenty more where that came from"—Zachariah hated to say the words but had to—"if you help me out."
The yard boss looked over at him and grinned.
"So, got you by the short hairs, reb. One minute I'm a son of a bitch and the next you're trying to bribe me."
"I got a barrel of Tennessee's finest if you can help me work things out."
"This is my yard, not yours. You don't come in here ordering me around, especially in front of my men. Damn you, even the boss calls me Mr. McDougal, not 'Hey, you.'"
"I understand. Listen, McDougal—"
"Mr. McDougal." Cruickshank sighed.
"All right then, Mr. McDougal. It's hot, I'm tired, and I got my orders."
"Listen, Major. I've had no word from the office about this. You just come wandering in here and demand four engines and forty flatcars. You have to be joking."
"I'm not."
"And I expect an apology for that son-of-a-bitch comment, you son of a bitch."
Cruickshank swallowed hard. Anyone else, at this moment, he'd have dropped him with one good punch.
"All right, one son of a bitch to another, does that satisfy you?"
"Barely," the boss said, taking another drink. He all but drained the bottle and tossed it out on the ground, where it shattered, then looked over expectantly at Cruickshank. Cruickshank motioned to one of his sergeants, who reluctantly came over, opened his haversack, and pulled out another.
For the first time, McDougal smiled, uncorked it, took another drink, then passed it back to Cruickshank, who took a long one as well.
Outside the boxcar this was read as a signal that things were simmering down. A few of his men, as Cruickshank had hoped, took out bottles and passed them to the work crew facing them.
Never Call Retreat - Civil War 03 Page 8