Never Call Retreat - Civil War 03

by Newt Gingrich; William R Forstchen

  Now mounted, he rode along the line with his six colonels following along, several of them mounted now as well. It gave him the chance to see the progress, and with his makeshift staff he inspected the line. Major Siemens rode over to join him.

  "Your men are a wonder, Mr. Barlett," Siemens said as they traveled the line. The preliminary trench had already been dug to shoulder depth and now the rectangular bastions, spaced at regular intervals so as to provide interlocking fields of fire, were going up, too. Men worked on the moats that would surround each, tossing up the dirt to form the fortress walls, which were reinforced with the woven baskets filled with dirt. Clear 'fields of fire were being opened up, entire woodlots disappearing to saws and axes, the lumber being dragged up to pile into the bastions. Smaller logs were being hammered into the ground at a forty-five-degree angle and then the exposed end sharpened. Brush was being stripped of leaves, tied into bundles, and then staked to the ground to provide barriers that would slow and even break up an advancing charge.

  Other men were setting to work digging potholes, just eighteen inches deep and eighteen inches wide, a hundred yards or so out from the trench line. A few branches and then brush would be laid over each hole. A man stepping into one at the run, at best, would have a sprained ankle and perhaps even a broken leg. It only took fifteen minutes or so for a good man to dig one and then conceal it, but thousands of such holes could help to shatter a charge, and the men at such work chuckled about how many Johnny Rebs they were going to trip up. A few took the extra effort to drive a sharpened stake into the bottom of the hole, but others said that was unfair, a broken leg was injury enough.

  The really hard labor was moving the giant hundred-pounder guns. Each tube weighed over twenty tons, the iron carriage another five tons. No wagons were capable of handling the weight, and the crews had resorted to something that looked like it was out of stories from the Bible. A hundred to two hundred men would be roped to each gun, a few mules added in, if available, greased logs were laid underneath the rough-cut lumber frame the gun rested on, the entire crew then straining to pull the dead weight up the slope and into the half-built bastions. Other crews labored at lugging up the heavy hundred-pound shells, one giant of a man making a display of his attempt to carry two at a time. At most places black laborers and white troops were mingled together, digging side by side.

  That, too, thrilled Jim. There had been some hesitation at first by the soldiers to do menial labor next to black men, but Winfield had laid that to rest, hobbling up and down the line, shouting, "Boys, it's either dig or eat bullets, so I'm telling you, start digging! I tried eating one of those bullets, and by God they don't digest very well."

  A day of labor, the way their black comrades worked on without complaint while many a white soldier was near to collapse, was making them one. Black laborers too tired to walk down to the kitchen areas suddenly found themselves handed a piece of hardtack and salt pork out of the haversack of a soldier who sat down beside him during a break and then offered a canteen to wash it down.

  Jim had also organized watering crews, mostly young boys carrying a couple of buckets, moving up and down the line; when the buckets were empty, they'd run down to the river and refill them.

  The dangerous job of moving up the bagged gunpowder Jim was more than happy to leave to the white gun crews. Too many of his men were fond of cigars and pipes.

  The first of the thirty-pounder Parrotts had come up just after midday, but these arrived with full limbers and one horse-team for every three guns, so they could easily be moved into place.

  They rode as far as Nolands Ferry, where the line finally curved back down to the river. A dozen barges were moving up the canal, heading toward the farthermost work site at the upper Point of Rocks.

  "Once it gets dark," Siemens said, "have your men stand down, get some food and rest. They've put in one hell of a day."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "No, it is I thanking you," Jeremiah said with a smile, leaning over to offer his hand.

  Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia 7:00 P.M.

  Lee slowly walked under the awning and sat down, taking off his hat and wiping his brow. Longstreet, Beauregard, Stuart, and Hood were all present, as were Jed Hotchkiss and Walter. Judah Benjamin, who had just arrived from Baltimore, sat slumped over in his chair, nursing a glass of wine.

  "A hard day, gentlemen," Lee said, looking about at the gathering illuminated by the glow of coal oil lamps. No one spoke for a moment.

  He knew he had to brace them up. They had anticipated a full-out frontal assault, as at Fredericksburg, and instead there had only been the one limited, but very bloody, attack on the left, while all across the day the rest of the line had been engaged in a long-distance firefight of an intensity they had never seen before.

  "If only they had come on," Beauregard said, "we would've mowed them down and be in Frederick tonight."

  "But they didn't," Lee retorted. "Grant, it seems, is no Burnside."

  "They most certainly did on my front," Hood replied sharply. "Jubal Early's Division is a wreck and out of this fight."

  "We lost well over eight thousand today," Lee said, "six thousand with Jubal, two thousand at least from the firing along the line, and, frankly, I do not see any permanent results from that loss."

  "We tore Ord apart," Beauregard interjected. "That's two of his four corps wrecked so far. Grant has most likely lost upward of eighteen, perhaps twenty thousand men since this started."

  'Twelve thousand, though, of ours across three days," Longstreet said. "We can't afford that rate of exchange much longer."

  "I concur," Lee announced. 'The question before us now is our response."

  He nodded toward Judah.

  "You gentlemen all know we lost Baltimore this afternoon."

  "Damn Pickett," Hood snapped. "If I was there, I'd have fought them street by street."

  Lee looked over sharply at Hood and his breach of the rule against profanity at headquarters but said nothing.

  Hood was right. Even though Pickett had only the equivalent of two brigades with him, surely he could have put up some kind of a fight, slowed them down for a day or two. His command, at last report, was at Relay Station, where George now claimed he'd put up a fight.

  That was too little far too late. The precious reserve supplies, enough to have sustained him in a slugging match with

  Grant for weeks if need be, were now gone, sitting in Baltimore warehouses.

  "Fire him," Longstreet said sadly, for he was speaking of an old friend.

  "I already have," Lee replied. "I sent a telegram back informing General Pickett to report to me here, and for Lo Armistead to take command of the division."

  He looked around at the gathering.

  "And nothing more is to be said about him," he announced. "If Armistead can at least delay their advance, that should give us three days, perhaps as many as five before we face any real threat to our immediate rear."

  He looked around at the gathering of commanders, who nodded in agreement.

  "Then that means if Grant will not come to us, we must go to him," Lee replied.

  No one spoke.

  "Gentlemen, our situation is by no means lost. Do not give way to pessimism, for I most certainly have not. General Beauregard is right. We have bloodied him. Two of his four corps are fought out. Granted, though Early's Division is out, Scales's, though heavily fought, is still relatively intact, as are Robertson's men, who sat out the day's fight in reserve, as did two of Beauregard's divisions and McLaw's."

  No one replied, waiting for what he would say next.

  That gave Lee a reserve of four divisions, calculating in their losses across the last two weeks, about twenty-five thousand men, just about the same number Jackson had used at Chancellorsville.

  "If we wait again tomorrow, gentlemen," Lee said, "I assume we shall see a repeat of today. A massive fusillade along the entire front, but one that will not decide anything. - Perhaps he wi
ll send Banks on his north wing to try our right flank, but I doubt that. I think he proposes to wait, to hold us in position until this secondary force comes up from the rear to reinforce him."

  There was no disagreement to what he had just said.

  "Then we must attack before Grant can be reinforced."

  "Where, sir?" Longstreet asked, shifting uncomfortably.

  "General Stuart, I asked you to do some scouting. What can you report?"

  Stuart stood up and leaned over Hotchkiss's maps spread out on the table.

  "I still have Chambliss's Brigade to our north and west," Jeb said. The mere mention of that troubled Lee. It was the old brigade of his son, Rooney.

  "They are reporting increasing pressure from Grierson. His men have pushed down across a line from the Catoctins eastward to fifteen miles below Westminster. Nothing very aggressive, other than George Custer's dash. A few raiding forces did reach the railroad tracks but quickly fell back. But by tomorrow they might be astride the Baltimore and Ohio line."

  "That is no longer a concern," Lee said sharply.

  "Yes, sir, but I thought you should know."

  "I have Jenkins moving down now to develop out the situation at the fords on the Potomac," Stuart continued.

  "Sir; that does trouble me," Pete said. "The report that came back this afternoon, about their digging in at four points along the river. If, and I must emphasize if, we need one of those crossings, it will be a tough fight now."

  "We will not need them," Lee said sharply. "If anything, that move might be to our advantage. As I said last night, we defeat Grant here, then have Mosby cut several of the locks on the canal. That will strand the bulk of their Washington garrison far outside the city. I was thinking at first of turning on them and defeating each in detail, but that is senseless and an additional waste of our few remaining men."

  "What then, sir?"

  "We defeat Grant, then march straight at Washington."

  No one spoke, though Hood and Stuart did nod and smile.

  "If Lincoln has emptied out the garrison of Washington, that is the first time he has done so since this war started. He has gambled, but we shall pick up the cards. We take Washington, and regardless of the price here in destroying Grant, we will truly win this war, once and for all."

  He looked over at Judah.

  "Would you not agree, Mr. Secretary?"

  Judah stirred from his exhaustion and looked at Lee.

  "Yes, sir," he replied softly. "It would end the war."

  Lee nodded his thanks. He realized that now, at this moment, he had to imbue his men with renewed hope. They were all exhausted; so was he. They had fought a pitched battle just a week and a half ago and were now in another, this one against what was proving to be a far more wily foe. Defeat Grant, though, and then within days deliver the double blow of taking Washington, even if he had but twenty thousand men left, the war would be finished, once and for all. It would be a blow Lincoln could never recover from.

  "The lower ford I was asking about on the Monocacy," Lee said, looking back at Stuart.

  Stuart leaned over the map and looked to where Lee was pointing.

  "Yes, sir, Buckeystown. Yes, sir, we scouted it out, have pickets now on the other side." "What's holding it?"

  "Not much, sir. A light outpost, a company or two of infantry. Did not see any cavalry." "And the road down to it?"

  "Starts back behind our headquarters, sir. One road does skirt fairly close to where Ord pushed in today, but a second road farther back is far enough behind the lines. The hills to the south of here, sir, are a good shield. High. We have pickets all along the crest. The only problem, though, is that at several points the road rises up high enough that it can be seen from the Catoctin ridge."

  Lee nodded, studying the map intently, Hotchkiss up by his side.

  "I surveyed some of this last year," Hotchkiss said, "when we passed through here before Sharpsburg. I rode it again today with General Stuart. He's right. It might be a potential flanking route, but at several points the road crosses up over hills, the tops of which are not concealed by the ridge running along the river."

  "Distance."

  "Just under three miles, sir, from the rail tracks down to the Buckeystown ford. A tough climb then of about two miles, I'd estimate, up to the plateau on the other side. From there I'd calculate six miles into Frederick. We've all seen the ground on the other side. It's a flat, wide-open plain, no real defensive positions on it. Fight on that, and it will be who is quicker and has more courage that will decide it."

  Lee took in what Hotchkiss was saying. And again that magical moment began to form, of lines of march, distances to be covered, who would move when, how they would deploy out, the same as he had felt after the first night at Gettysburg and again in laying the trap at Gunpowder River.

  "That will be it, gentlemen," Lee announced quietly, standing back from the table.

  He looked over at Beauregard.

  "Do you wish the honor of leading this, General?"

  Beauregard smiled and nodded his head.

  "Two of your divisions, along with Robertson and McLaw. Generals Longstreet and Hood, I hope you have no objections to these detachments of your divisions."

  "It means no reserves," Longstreet said quietly.

  "We had none at Chancellorsville and, gentlemen, this is beginning to feel a bit like Chancellorsville, though, in fact, our odds are better. Their secondary force is not literally at our back as it was at Chancellorsville; it is over forty miles away in Baltimore."

  "It's not Hooker this time," Longstreet said. "Remember this is Grant."

  Lee looked over at Beauregard.

  "He does have tenacity," Beauregard said. "Any other general would have caved in after what we did the first day at Shiloh."

  'Then let him stand, and thus, unlike Shiloh, we will indeed finish him."

  Beauregard's features shifted ever so subtly.

  "I meant no disrespect, General," Lee said, bowing slightly to Beauregard.

  "None taken, sir," he replied softly.

  "What about their observing it from the Catoctin Heights?" Stuart asked.

  "We do it now, tonight," Lee said.

  "Sir, that's a tall order," Hood said. "My old division, though not in the fight, stood to arms all day. They fought a pitched battle the day before."

  "It has to be tonight," Lee said. "I want the attack to start just before dawn. Jeb, you will lead with a brigade of cavalry and post guides at regular intervals along the road. Take the ford a few hours before dawn. General Beauregard, your two divisions to follow, and you must gain the plateau by first light, followed by McLaw, then Robertson.

  "Artillery?" Beauregard asked.

  "Whatever is left of our old experienced crews will be in this as well. I'll have Alexander detail off a battalion to each of your two divisions, General, two batteries to each of the other divisions."

  He pointed at the crossing point and then up to the plateau on which Buckeystown sat.

  "Deploy out, then start sweeping north. Nothing piecemeal. I want a solid two-division front, with McLaw and Robertson behind you in support. Do not stop until you have rolled up his line. As you advance across our front, Scales, Johnson, the brigades of Rhodes and Anderson's old commands will come in on your right. A grand assault across the river at a right angle to your attack. Your primary goal then will be for your left flank to capture the National Road, but not too quickly."

  "Sir?"

  "I want panic to set in. If we bolt the escape hole shut, Grant just might be able to rally in his desperation and turn on us. I want them in a panic, running for that road. The ones first on it will, as always, be the ones we don't care about, the teamsters, the staffers, supply wagons, those who have already run. Finally, bolt it shut when their main forces are on the road and partway up it."

  Beauregard took the orders in, taking a sheet of paper from Walter and jotting down notes, sketching a copy of the map as well.

>   "General, you have a lot to do," Lee said. "I will come down to see you off. Can you be ready to move by midnight?"

  "Sir?" he hesitated. "Yes, sir, I can."

  "Fine then," Lee said with a smile.

  "Jeb, get your lead brigade ready to move as well. Go with him on this and once across, provide cover to his left flank."

  Jeb grinned, saluted, and left, Beauregard by his side.

  "I better go see to my old command," Hood said. "Sir, if any boys will take down Grant, it will be my old Texans."

  Walter left, calling for Jed Hotchkiss to follow and start working on additional maps for the various commands.

  Longstreet, however, remained, Judah sitting by his side.

  "Anything else, General?" Lee asked.

  "No, sir, not really, but one suggestion."

  "And that is?"

  "Start moving the pontoon train south by road. You have a good screen with Jenkins. Moving those pontoons is a nightmare once off a main pike."

  "Why the caution?" Lee asked.

  "Why not, sir?"

  Lee nodded and Longstreet stood up and left. Lee finally sat back down and looked over at Judah, who was gazing down into his glass of wine. "Hard day for you, sir?" Lee asked. "Not as hard as yours," Judah said quietly. "You look exhausted." Judah smiled. "Just sad, that's all." "Why so?"

  "Three days ago I was sitting in Baltimore, just waiting for that dispatch ship flying a French flag to come in with word that the emperor, that mad emperor, had thrown in with us. Baltimore would have, after the war, quickly rivaled New York as a place of industry and commerce, which we desperately need. Chances are Washington would have wound up as our new capital."

  "It will still happen," Lee said with a smile. "As my boys say, 'We ain't licked yet, not by a long shot.'"

  "I wish I carried your confidence," Judah replied.

  "You have to think back on our history, sir. Perhaps because you were not born here, and no offense intended, you don't fully sense that."

  "How so?"

  "My father fought with Washington. Many in our ranks had sat at the knee of a grandfather and heard tales of Valley Forge, that terrible retreat across New Jersey the year before, the bitter fighting in the Carolinas. Half a dozen times our cause seemed all but lost, and yet each time a kindly Providence saw fit to save us. Our situation at this moment is no different. We endured then, we shall endure now. Of that I am still confident."