The terrain on the west, facing Hooker, was densely wooded with gullies and outcroppings that made his advance extremely difficult. The east side of Lookout Creek however, was a gradual slope with a road connecting Chattanooga to the summit. Hooker sent Geary’s division and one of Cruft’s brigades to cross the creek on the high ground, while the balance of Cruft’s division seized the common bridge over the creek near the railroad bridge.
The attack on the bridge drew the Confederates away from Geary, who crossed the creek and began pushing up toward the summit where he was soon joined by Cruft and Osterhaus.
By noon, Geary’s troops were on the North Slope, in line, facing strong fortifications. His right was anchored on the bottom of the upper palisade and his left on Chattanooga Creek.
At the same time, the bridges over the Tennessee and the South Chickamauga were completed, and Sherman began to form his troops for the attack on Missionary Ridge.
At about 1:00 PM Sherman launched skirmishers ahead of M. L. Smith on his left with J. E. Smith and Ewing in column to the right and trailing slightly. At the foothills, the skirmishers made contact. During this time, Sherman’s cavalry struck the Confederate communications center at Chickamauga Station.
A little after 5:00 PM, Grant sent the following telegram to Washington: “The fight today progressed favorably. Sherman carried the end of Missionary Ridge, and his right is now at the tunnel, and his left at Chickamauga Creek. Troops from Lookout Valley carried the point of the mountain, and now hold the eastern slope and a point high up. Hooker reports two thousand prisoners taken, besides which a small number have fallen into our hands from Missionary Ridge.”
Lincoln replied: “Your dispatches as to fighting on Monday and Tuesday are here. Well done. Many thanks to all. Remember Burnside.”
Halleck’s answer said: “I congratulate you on the success thus far of your plans. I fear that Burnside is hard pushed, and that any further delay may prove fatal. I know you will do all in your power to relieve him.”
Grant immediately sent Colonel J. H. Wilson and Assistant Secretary of War Charles A. Dana to Knoxville with a message informing Burnside that reinforcements and supplies were on the way. A copy of the message was to be “accidentally” left where a Confederate spy would read it and pass the contents on to Longstreet.
November 29, 1863
Knoxville, Tennessee
Longstreet handed the binoculars to Johnny Van Buskirk. “The Yankees call it Fort Sanders after William Sanders. It’s the most vulnerable place in Burnside’s defenses.”
Johnny focused the glasses on the earthen fort. “What am I looking for?”
“Do you see how the ground drops off there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think we could assemble a storming party down there at night and take the fort by coup de main.”
Johnny lowered the glasses, then raised them again. “I can’t tell how deep that perimeter ditch outside the fort’s walls is, but it looks difficult to negotiate.”
“I’m told that it’s only four feet deep in some places but as deep as ten feet in others,” Longstreet said.
“We’ll need scaling ladders.”
Longstreet grunted.
“How large a force did you want to use?”
“Three brigades. You should lead them.”
Johnny handed him the binoculars. “Me, sir?”
“You said that you were bored with being a staff officer. I thought that you might find leading a night attack against a heavily fortified enemy less boring.”
“Yes, sir. I would. When?”
“Tonight.”
~
The brief Confederate artillery barrage did little damage and it alerted the Union defenders of the impending action. The first Rebel yell was answered with a withering volley of rifle fire and canister rounds.
The initial wave of the attackers became entangled in telegraph wire that Union forces had strung between trees or stumps and massive abatis. The few men who actually reached the twelve-foot wide outer ditch were unable to climb the vertical walls and were cut to pieces by small arms fire. Only a handful was able to gain the fort and all of them were killed or captured.
Twenty minutes after the attack began, Johnny Van Buskirk was carried back to Longstreet’s surgeon. Confederate losses were over eight hundred while the Union lost only a dozen.
“How is he, Doc?” Longstreet asked.
“I got the grapeshot out of his hip but I don’t have the time or skill to save his leg,” the doctor replied. “It’s too early to say if the arm will have to come off.”
“But he’ll live,” Longstreet said.
“He’s alive right now, but unless you can get him to a proper hospital his chances aren’t good.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Longstreet shook the doctor’s hand.
“Sir,” an aide said.
“Yes?” Longstreet walked away from his tent.
“Message from General Bragg, sir.”
“What’s it say? Just tell me the gist of it. Don’t read it to me. I don’t have the time or patience.”
“He says that Confederate troops were defeated four days ago at the Battle of Chattanooga and he orders you to rejoin him.”
“Join him in his retreat?” Longstreet laughed mirthlessly.
“There’s something else, sir.”
“What?”
“The proprietor of a hotel in Knoxville, where the Union’s Assistant Secretary of War was staying, saw a letter to Burnside from Grant that promises immediate reinforcement.”
“Send an answer to General Bragg, but don’t acknowledge his order.” Longstreet took a stick from the campfire and used it to relight his cigar. “Tell him that we’ll stay here as long as we can before moving to our winter quarters at Rogersville, and that we’ll return to Virginia in the spring.”
“Yes, sir.” The aide turned to go.
“Wait. Also send a telegram to Mrs. Urilla Van Buskirk at Orchard Hill Plantation near Richmond and tell her to come as fast as she can to get her badly wounded husband.”
December 1, 1863
Washington, D.C.
Anna was nude and on top of Charles Nelson. She kissed him gently on the lips. “That was nice.”
“Nice?” He caressed the nipple of her right breast gently with his thumb. “I’d prefer another word like spectacular, or magnificent.”
She swung her head so that her hair brushed across his face. “Would you settle for memorable?”
“Oh no. Even worse than nice.”
She stepped over him and crawled off the bed. “Do you mind if I open the window?”
“Go ahead. My nosey neighbor across the airshaft will probably be thrilled.”
“Is your neighbor male or female?” She crossed the room and stopped at the window.
“Male, of course. This is a home for old, battered soldiers.”
“Then let me give him a thrill.” She pulled open the curtains, raised the window all the way, leaned out and waved.
“Anna,” Nelson complained. “I was only teasing.”
“Me too,” she giggled and waved again. “Oh look. I’m attracting a crowd.”
Nelson jumped out of bed and ran across the room to pull her back inside and close the curtains. “You’re a madwoman.”
“So I’ve been told.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He shivered. “It’s freezing.”
“Want me to close the window?”
“No.” He pulled away from her, then hurried to close the window and the curtains. “Sometimes I really don’t know what to do with you.”
“You’ll think of something.” Anna turned and walked back to the bed with an exaggerated swing of her hips.
He watched her appreciatively. “Have I mentioned that you’re pretty well preserved for an old lady?”
“Apparently you haven’t noticed that I’m no lady.”
“Can you prove that to me?”
“Abs
olutely. Come here and I’ll show you something that ladies have never even heard of.”
December 16, 1863
Danville, Virginia
The Confederate Soldiers’ Hospital, like the Confederate Subsistence Department’s Danville Depot, was in a former tobacco warehouse. Urilla stood up as a weary-looking young surgeon came into the makeshift waiting room. “Did he survive the surgery?”
“Yes,” the doctor said. “He’ll eventually have full movement of the hip. That will permit him to walk with a prosthetic leg and a cane. Too bad they had to take the leg off above the knee. Having a functioning knee makes all the difference. If we could gotten him sooner…”
“And his arm?”
“I was able to save it, but the damage to the muscle and connective tissue is extensive.”
“Are you saying his arm’s paralyzed?”
“He may regain limited use of it in time.”
“How limited?”
“Much of that depends upon him. If he exercises, he could regain eighty to ninety percent. If he coddles and protects it, the muscles will atrophy and the joints will calcify.”
“He’ll exercise,” Urilla said, brightening a bit.
“Don’t expect too much,” the doctor warned. “This is going to be life-altering for both of you.”
“When can I take him home?”
“Let’s wait a few days and talk again.”
“The trains from here to Richmond are very crowded. I’ll need to make a reservation as soon as I can.”
The doctor thought a moment. “I promise that you’ll have him home by Christmas, but I won’t be able to tell you anything else for a day or two.”
“Thank you,” Urilla said.
“I’ll be off duty soon. Could I take you to dinner?”
“Would it improve the care that my husband gets?”
He smiled. “It might.”
“I’ll wait here for you.”
December 25, 1863
Orchard Hill Plantation, Virginia
Johnny Van Buskirk was in his wheelchair staring out through the closed French doors at the icy private patio and the bleak winter landscape beyond it. He started at the sound of a knock on the bedroom door. “Yes? What is it?”
“We’re ready to start opening Christmas presents,” Urilla said through the door.
“Start without me,” Johnny replied.
“You’ll miss Jefferson opening his special gift.”
“He won’t notice that I’m not there.”
“I have a special gift for you too.”
“That’s nice but whatever it is, I’m not up to it.”
“Damn it.” Urilla rattled the doorknob. “Unlock the door, Johnny.”
With his good left hand, he turned the wheelchair toward the door. “Leave me alone. Please.”
“How long are you going to do this?”
“What am I doing?”
“Shutting yourself away and feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Go away, Urilla.”
She said something unintelligible and a male voice replied.
“What’s that?” Johnny called.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
He turned his chair back toward the double doors and watched as a flock of birds landed on the grass and began to forage. Suddenly the birds took flight and a large shadow passed across the doors as a man appeared. Johnny reached for the wheel of his chair in a near panic, then stopped. “Pea? Is that you?”
“Let me in,” his brother Paul said. “I’m freezing.”
With effort, using his left arm on one wheel and then the other, Johnny maneuvered the chair close enough to be able to unlock the doors. “What are you doing here?” he asked as Paul came in and closed the doors.
“Urilla invited me for Christmas. I couldn’t refuse her hospitality.”
“You’re not going to like it in a Confederate POW camp.”
“I thought I’d avoid that, if I could.”
“Then you’d better go now before my father-in-law turns you in.”
“He’s apparently mellowed a bit since you were courting Urilla. I’m his honored guest.”
“Ha. He’s realized that the South is going to lose this war.”
Paul walked to the bed and sat down. “You heard anything about Dad?”
“I got a letter from Mother while I was in the hospital.”
“I heard from a War Department clerk that Dad’s hiding somewhere in Texas from the Confederate Government.”
“Mother’s last letter never mentioned anything like that,” Johnny said.
“I don’t understand why Dad didn’t just resign his commission.”
“Because he couldn’t explain how he got out of the Yankee prison camp.”
“How did he get out?”
“If you don’t already know, I can’t tell you,” Johnny said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that you haven’t been trusted with the secret and that I swore not to tell the secret to anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone,” Paul argued. “I’m your brother.”
“Yes. And as my brother you should understand why I can’t reveal a secret that I’ve sworn I wouldn’t reveal.”
Paul looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Could you at least talk to General Lee and explain to him that Dad’s protecting the people that helped him get out of the camp?”
“For what purpose?”
“For the purpose of getting Dad off the deserters list.”
Johnny made a face. “That’s nothing but a bureaucratic formality. Some clerk in Richmond learned that Dad escaped and changed his status from missing in action to absent without leave. After thirty days, the status of all AWOLs are automatically changed to deserter. It doesn’t mean anything. There aren’t any bloodhounds out there searching for him.”
“Mother says there are bounty hunters.”
Johnny looked surprised. “Really? She didn’t mention that to me in her letter.”
“Maybe she took an oath not to reveal that to any Confederate sympathizers.”
“I’m tired,” Johnny said after a moment. “I’d like you to go now.”
Paul stood up. “Are you coming out to join your family for Christmas?”
“These people are not my family and neither are you. Please go.”
Paul walked to the bedroom door and stopped with his hand on the knob. “I took a big chance coming here.”
“Nobody asked you to.”
“Goodbye, Johnny Reb. And Merry Christmas.”
January 15, 1864
Washington, D.C.
“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. President,” Anna said.
“Good morning, Anna.” Lincoln sat back in his chair. “You said it was a personal matter?”
“Yes, sir. But it’s, in fact, not exactly personal. That is, I’m using my personal relationship with you to ask a favor of you for General Grant.”
Lincoln raised his eyebrows. “That sounds interesting. Tell me what you, on behalf of Grant, want me to do.”
“Well, sir, it seems that Secretary Stanton is delaying all the orders that General Grant issues.”
“For what purpose?”
“Ostensibly to approve them, but General Grant thinks it’s punishment for a spat he had with Mr. Stanton.”
“What was the spat about?”
“Because he was going to be away from his headquarters, but he still needed a method of sending coded messages, General Grant ordered a cipher clerk to give him the cipher key. The clerk refused, saying that he’d be punished by the War Department if he did. General Grant told the clerk he’d protect him and then threatened him until he gave up the key. When Secretary Stanton learned that General Grant had been given the key, he punished the clerk. General Grant responded to the Secretary with a complaint saying that he’d given the clerk no choice and if anyone should be punished it was he. That’s when Mr. Stanton began delaying the transmission of
General Grant’s orders.”
Lincoln sighed. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you for your time, sir.” Anna turned to leave.
“Don’t mention this to Stanton,” Lincoln said. “I have to approach him obliquely.”
“No risk of that.” Anna chuckled. “Mr. Stanton and I haven’t been on speaking terms since 1859 when he defended Dan Sickles.”
“Oh, yes. I’d completely forgotten about that.” Lincoln nodded. “The defense strategy was that Sickles was temporarily insane. Unheard of at the time.”
“And incredible,” Anna grumbled. “Even now.”
“What was his name - the man that Sickles killed?” Lincoln asked. “He was Francis Scott Key’s son, but I can’t remember his name. Wasn’t he a friend of yours?”
“His name was Phillip Key,” Anna said. “He was occasionally my lover, never my friend, and he was denied justice.”
Lincoln raised his eyebrows. “Oh my. I’d forgotten. That’s where I first met you, wasn’t it? At Sickles’s trial. I gave you some free legal advice.”
“As I recall I paid you for your advice.”
“A penny, as I recall.”
“I remember it as being a dollar.”
“If it had been that much I couldn’t possibly have forgotten.” Lincoln chuckled. “You know that Sickles lost a leg at Gettysburg, don’t you?”
“Yes. And he’s being touted as a hero. But according to George Meade, Sickles disobeyed a direct order and nearly cost the battle.”
“There’s an opposite view that Sickles blunted Longstreet’s attack by disobeying Meade’s order.”
Anna made a face. “Typical. Sickles has so many powerful friends that he can roll in manure and come out smelling like a rose.”
“That reminds me of a story,” Lincoln said.
“I’ve heard it,” Anna replied.
Lincoln laughed out loud. “Have a good morning, Anna.”
“You too, Mr. President. Thank you.”
March 9, 1864
Brandy Station, Virginia
“Welcome to my headquarters, General Grant,” General George Meade said stiffly. “And congratulations on your promotion to General-in-Chief.”
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