Grant Comes East cw-2

by Newt Gingrich

  Lee edged out onto the road, Traveler kicking up muddy splashes. Behind him the lead brigade of Pickett's division, Armistead's men, were forming up. Turning, he headed north, the road clear for several hundred yards ahead. His staff, the headquarters wagon, and the president's carriage followed. With Taylor and his guidon-bearer just behind him, he urged Traveler to a slow canter, enjoying the ride, the cooling breeze, a shower of heavy droplets cascading down around him as he rode under a spread of elm trees that canopied the road. Reaching a gentle crest he saw the village of Leesborough, a small, prosperous community with several stores, a couple of dozen homes, rich farmland surrounding it. The winter wheat had been brought in, but the orchards, especially the peach orchards, had been severely damaged by the passing army, nearly every tree plucked clean. Fences were broken down and gone as well, wet circles of ashes and partially burned wet wood marking where men had camped the night before.

  At the intersection with the Rockville Pike in the center of town a regimental band stood, playing patriotic airs. A spotter for the band, having seen the approaching cavalcade of the army headquarters and the president, was running back to the center of town, waving his arms.

  Lee slowed, looking over at Walter.

  "It's good for morale," Walter said with a smile.

  Lee nodded and waited, letting his staff ride on, then edging back on to the road alongside the presidential carriage.

  "It's turned into a lovely day," Benjamin announced, gesturing to the sparkling blue sky overhead.

  "That it has, sir. By evening the roads should dry out a little, and hopefully tomorrow we'll make good time."

  Up ahead the band struck up "Bonnie Blue Flag," and a cheer rose, a regiment that had been coming down the road from Rockville stopping, men spilling out of column to swarm behind the band.

  Lee said nothing, though this would play havoc with the marching order, stalling the troops farther up the road, but it couldn't be helped now. Besides, Walter was right. They needed a boost after the misery and frustration of the last week.

  The reporters traveling with Davis were off their mounts, notebooks out; one of them produced a large sketch pad and, with charcoal stick in hand, began to furiously scratch at his paper.

  Lee fell in behind the carriage, Walter at his side, as they rode into the small village. Cheer upon cheer greeted them. From the rear, Armistead's men were splashing through the mud, coming up on the double to take part in the show, slowing at a respectful distance, breaking ranks, holding caps in the air, and yelling.

  Davis, obviously pleased, ordered the carriage to stop in the middle of the intersection and stood up. Lee reined in behind him, and troops from the two columns edged closer, yelling and waving. Davis held his hands out and the men fell silent.

  "Gallant soldiers of the Confederacy. I salute you!"

  Another roar went up, the roads now clogged with men breaking ranks, pushing in closer.

  "You, the victors of Union Mills, have crowned your reputation with undying glory. You march now to yet a greater victory. A victory that shall soon end this war. And then, as conquering heroes you can return to your homes and loved ones, where you shall be forever honored for what you did here."

  Yet more cheers greeted this statement. General Longstreet approached the edge of the crowd from the west, coming down the Rockville Road. He pushed his mount through the crowd, falling in alongside of Lee, saying nothing, but his gaze was anything but happy over this disruption. Lee smiled softly and said nothing.

  "I have a request of our wonderful band," Davis cried.

  The bandmaster saluted with his staff.

  "An honor, sir. What do you request?"

  "In honor of our gallant friends, who even now are rallying to the cause of Southern freedom, I would appreciate hearing 'Maryland My Maryland.'"

  The bandmaster turned with a flourish, passed the command, instruments were raised, and the band began to play. It was obvious after several measures that they were not as well practiced with this tune. Davis stood solemn, listening, ignoring the more than occasional off-key notes. The newspaper artist, standing on a porch, sketched away furiously.

  The band finished. Davis was about to continue to speak but Longstreet, with less than the required diplomacy and politeness, loudly cleared his throat. Davis looked out of the corner of his eye toward Old Pete and then Lee.

  "Perhaps our gallant General Lee would care to address you," Davis offered, pointing toward him.

  More cheers erupted, and under the cover of the noise Lee moved to the side of the carriage.

  "Sir, I think General Longstreet was reminding us that we have an army on the march and this crossroads needs to be cleared if we are to continue."

  Davis flushed slightly but then nodded. Benjamin, obviously enjoying himself, just smiled and said nothing.

  Davis extended his hand again; the men fell silent.

  "God bless and keep all of you." He sat back down and told the driver to move on. The driver hesitated and looked at Lee, obviously not sure of what direction to take.

  "North," Walter said, and with a crack of reins the carriage passed through the crossroads, escorts arid guards galloping ahead.

  Longstreet turned to a provost guard standing mud-splattered in the middle of the road.

  "Clear the rest of this division from Rockville," Pete said angrily, pointing back to the west. "Then, have General Pickett file in behind it."

  The provost saluted and started to turn.

  "And tell that damn silly band they can play but get the hell off the street, move them out of the way."

  Anxiously, the provost saluted again and ran off, shouting orders.

  "Shouldn't be too hard on them today," Lee said. Longstreet shook his head.

  "The roads are still a mess and we're funneling not just my corps, but Hood's as well through here. That little demonstration tied things up for a mile in each direction."

  "Still, the men needed it and so did the president."

  "Sorry, sir. I think once we're clear of here, I'll feel better again."

  "I know. I feel the same way. It was a bitter march to here and a bitter defeat, but now we are moving again, doing what we do best."

  He could again see the movements on the map engraved in his mind's eye. The army was reduced to but six divisions, and all of those were under strength to varying levels. Longstreet, with four divisions, Pickett, who was coming up even now, McLaws, who was behind Pickett, Johnson, and Doles, commanding the division coming down from Rockville, formerly Rhodes's division (Rhodes died in the final moments at Union Mills), were to push on toward Baltimore until twilight Once they had cleared Leesborough, Hood would follow, leading Early's tough veterans and Robertson, who was now in command of Hood's old division. Hood's corps would turn east from here, move to Beltsville astride the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, turn north, then east again to Annapolis.

  The shattered remains of Perrin's and Pettigrew's divisions would stay behind just north of Fort Stevens as they were being reorganized into a single division under Scales.

  Stuart's command was being split up as well. Half his strength was to shadow Washington, probe, demonstrate. The other half was to sweep north up the two lines of advance, cutting telegraph lines and securing the way clear up to the outskirts of Baltimore and Annapolis.

  He looked back up at the sky. If the weather should hold like this, sunny with a dry, cool evening, by midmorning tomorrow the roads should be dry enough to swing his massive artillery reserve, usable guns captured at Union Mills, and his regular artillery train on to the roads as well. He could have them in position to bombard Baltimore's defenses by nightfall.

  The march would be a leisurely one, only thirty miles in two days, nothing at all like the blistering pace of the previous campaign. Officers had been told not to push the men hard, keep a standard pace of two miles to the hour, with ten-minute breaks. Forage parties were to move ahead and, following proper custom, offer payment vouchers for a
ny supplies taken. His general order of the previous evening had emphasized that yet again. They were here to entice Maryland into the Confederacy, not to come at bayonet point, strip away its rights, and then rob it, as the Yankees had done throughout Virginia.

  He hoped that Baltimore could actually be taken without a fight. Once his lead division was in place, a message would be sent in to the mayor offering full protection to the city if the civil authorities would surrender without a fight. He knew the army garrison would most likely refuse, but directing his appeal to the civilians might help win their support when they pushed in.

  The band, now standing in a field at the edge of the village, broke into a cheery polka. Longstreet looked over at them with displeasure.

  "Rather see them carrying rifles. Better use of those men than their tooting away like that; they can't even carry a tune."

  "They're hospital orderlies when the fight is on," Lee said soothingly, "and besides, the men do like them." Longstreet shook his head.

  "I'm going to push on, sir, move up to the head of the column. My staff will be back here to keep an eye on the crossroads."

  "I'll ride with you then, General Longstreet." "A pleasure, sir."

  He looked over at Longstreet and felt a surge of approval. Old Pete was now the aggressive one. The victory at Union

  Mills, with praise heaped upon him for the brilliance of the flanking march throughout the South, was overshadowing the legend of Jackson at Chancellorsville. This last campaign had transformed the man. He was more confident, aggressive in movement, hard-driving the way Jackson had been.

  Hood would still bear watching. Like Ewell and Hill before him, he was new to corps command. He was a brilliant division commander in the field, but his fumbling before Fort Stevens, though by no means entirely his fault, meant he was still not up to corps command. Lee had given him the Annapolis assignment for two simple reasons. First was the route of march. He wanted Pete's greater striking power to hit that major city. Pete had to clear the road up here to Lees-borough before Hood could even begin to move. Hood's actual fighting strength was barely half that of Longstreet's, with two of his remaining divisions under strength and a third division detailed off to Virginia. His Fourth and Fifth divisions, Pettigrew and Perrin, were being left behind for now. Annapolis was obviously suitable for Hood's smaller formation.

  The second reason was that it would give Hood a chance at a semidetached command in an operation that was not all that crucial. If he won, it would reinforce his confidence and serve as a good test If he failed, it would reveal his faults, which, if serious enough, would mean he would have to be relieved; yet such a defeat in and of itself would not be a threatening or terrible blow.

  The two generals rode on, the day an absolute delight. An actual coolness was in the air as the last vestiges of the storm raced south-eastward, the trees swaying, leaves rustling in the breeze. The fence rails flanking the road were piled high with weeds and honeysuckle. The pastures beyond, though empty of cattle and horses, were rich, the tall grass flattening down before the wind.

  Several children were sitting atop a fence, wide-eyed as they approached. One of the boys, standing, balanced himself, saluting. Smiling, Lee saluted back. Two girls, giggling and blushing, stood at the gate to a farmhouse, both of them waving National Flags of the Confederacy. This time Long-street tipped his hat, as did Lee. An infantryman, sitting on the side of the road, barefoot, nursing what looked to be a broken ankle, looked up balefully as the two approached.

  "Sorry I can't stand and salute, sirs; it's broke. Fell out of a tree picking peaches."

  "An ambulance will be along to see to you," Lee said in a kindly voice. "But next time, son, don't go foraging like that Take it as a lesson."

  "Give it to 'em in Baltimore, sir," the boy shouted as they continued on.

  "They weren't supposed to know where we were heading," Longstreet said, apologizing.

  "No matter, any man who knows his geography can figure it out now. If we'd turned west at the Rockville Road, it would've meant western Maryland or back to Virginia. That's why their spirits are up; they know we're not retreating."

  He caught a glimpse of the president's carriage just ahead around a gentle turn in the road, guards trailing behind.

  He slowed his own pace, not wanting to catch up quite yet

  "Strange to have him marching with the army," Pete said. "To be expected now."

  "I could tell he wanted Washington. In fact, he assumed he could ride straight in."

  "God willed differently."

  "I don't think he likes God's will," Pete replied.

  Lee did not respond to what could be considered to verge on blasphemy.

  "Frankly, I wish he had stayed back till we finished the job," Longstreet persevered.

  "I will admit the thought," Lee replied. "However, Mr. Benjamin's arguments for taking Baltimore were cogent and persuasive."

  "It's just that we should be clear to do our job without someone second-guessing our decisions, or, for that matter, countermanding them."

  "I don't think the president will do that. He is an old military man himself, remember. He will stay back and only observe. He'll leave the job to us."

  "I hope so, sir."

  "Let's not be troubled by it now," Lee replied soothingly. Catching up to the rear of the president's cavalcade, Lee reined in, and returned Old Pete's salute as his second in command spurred his mount and continued on.

  It was a most pleasant day, and for the moment he rode alone, glad to not be noticed, glad to just enjoy the cool, windswept afternoon.

  Port Deposit, Maryland

  My 20,1863 6:45 p.m.

  The train glided into the station, bell ringing and whistle shrieking. A full brigade, his old Excelsior, was drawn up along the siding to greet him. Though standing at attention, the men let out a tumultuous roar of approval as he stepped out on to the back platform, eyes sparkling with delight.

  Gen. Dan Sickles had returned to his beloved Army of the Potomac.

  The brigade broke ranks, swarming around the train. Grinning, he waved for them to gather in, ignoring this breach of discipline. Scarred battle flags were held aloft and waved overhead, the cool evening breeze rushing down the Susquehanna Valley causing them to snap and flutter. He held up his hands for them to be silent, but the cheering continued, climaxing with a rousing three cheers for "Old Dan!"

  Finally they fell silent, looking up at him, some with visible tears in their eyes.

  "My comrades, my friends," he began, and for a moment his voice choked, so he lowered his head. A bit of it was required melodrama, but in his heart, it was real as well. These were the men he had recruited back in sixty-one, and how few of them remained. How many ghosts now stood around them. He truly loved this brigade, and he would see that now it was done right, that they would be led to the victory they deserved. He raised his head again.

  "As you know, yesterday I was appointed to command of the Army of the Potomac."

  Again three cheers greeted him and he basked in the glow of it.

  "And yet I must now ask. Where is the Army of the Potomac?"

  His words were greeted with silence, many of the men standing stock-still, some lowering their heads.

  "Where are our gallant comrades of the old reliable First Corps? Our brothers of the Second Corps, who we watched go bravely forward at Union Mills? The men of the Fifth? The Eleventh, which, better served, could have shown their mettle, and the Twelfth, who valiantly charged on that terrible Fourth of July. Where are they?"

  No one spoke.

  "You and I would willingly give our lives for that dear old flag," and he pointed toward one of the national colors, a regimental flag, torn, battered, stained.

  "We would do so without hesitation if we knew that our lifeblood would nourish it, protect it, and cause it to be raised high in final victory. That we would not hesitate to do!"

  A ripple of comments greeted him, but no cheers. These were veterans
who had seen far too much.

  "Perhaps, my comrades, you and I are fated to fall, but here and now, I promise you this, I promise you that if that should be our fate, it shall happen as we charge forward to our final victory against the traitors and not ignominious defeat and withdrawal as we have seen too often in our past!"

  The men looked up at him, nodding in agreement.

  "For too long our beloved Army of the Potomac has borne the weight of generals' follies upon its shoulders. And I tell you this plainly. I stand here to declare, before the entire world, that the fighting men of our gallant army have never lost a battle!"

  For a moment there was confusion over his words. For, after all, what of Chancellorsville, of Union Mills? And then the meaning of what he said was realized and a deep, throaty roar of approval greeted him.

  "You, my dear comrades, have never lost a fight It is others that lost it for you. Those of you who stood with me at Gettysburg, who marched across that field on the morning of July second, who saw the chance for ultimate victory, and then saw it torn so basely out of our hands when we were ordered to pull back, you know what I mean and you know who lost it!"

  The men looked at him, stunned. Never had a general spoken so plainly to them, spoken the very words they had snared around the campfires and on the march. Their cries now knew no bounds, as if the frustration and rage of the previous two years were at last given vent. He let them roar for more than a minute, then held his hands up again.

  ‘I promise you this. The Army of the Potomac even now is forming its ranks again. Those who are left, our old brothers from other corps, who cut their way out of the debacle, even now are rallying back to our side. The vacant ranks will indeed be filled.