“My scouts haven’t the time or the numbers to know the answer,” Buford admitted. “But a crossroads like this, along the route they must by now have realized we are taking, is a logical place for Lee to concentrate his forces.”
Longstreet grimaced. “The best place to make a stand, but the worst one as well. We could have columns as strong as Lee’s coming from the north, east and from the south in pursuit of us. If we all stay here, we may all be trapped here, or at the least face attacking forces from more than one direction. But if we all push on, Bobbie Lee will catch us for certain.”
Hancock seemed to be chewing over Longstreet’s words, then spat. “Damn. I don’t want you to be right, James, but you might be. You’re advising that I leave part of this force to delay Lee and push the rest on to the northwest to avoid any other columns converging on this place.”
“I am, sir. It’s not a hopeless battle for those left here. It’s not hard to predict what the enemy will do.” Longstreet pointed down the pike. “You know Bobbie Lee. He’ll march his infantry right up the road with an eye to smashing through any blocking force here, and send his cavalry around those hills to the east to get behind the blocking force and trap it so it gets hit from both front and back. Textbook solution. I’ll be ready for it. With this ground I believe I can throw Lee back, and then withdraw and rejoin the rest of you before any regular army reinforcements get here.”
“No, sir,” Hancock replied, shaking his head. “Not you, James. We need you when we get to Indiana and Illinois. You know the Army of the New Republic people in those states and you know the states themselves.”
Longstreet seemed disposed to argue, but Buford spoke up. “The blocking force will require my cavalry, so I need to remain. I’ll draw the regular cavalry into a fight in the town where its numbers won’t matter. Stuart won’t be able to resist trying to fight my mounted troops, and once he starts fighting them he’ll stay tied down and never mind any orders to do otherwise.”
“Are you certain?” Hancock asked.
“I’m betting my life on it,” Buford responded dryly, then something else seemed to occur to him and he turned back to the corporal. “Two companies of cavalry, you said. Who’s with Stuart? What other cavalry officers are with that force?”
“Just a young fool named Custer in charge of the other company, sir.” The corporal looked aghast at his candor. “Begging your pardon, sir.”
“That’s all right, corporal,” Buford assured him. He glanced at Hancock. “From what I hear, that’s an apt description of Custer. Last in his class at the Point. Headstrong, impulsive, and very political. Small wonder he made captain so quickly, and he’ll badly want a glorious victory here to boost his chances at promotion to major. Custer won’t offer any wise counsel, even if Stuart were willing to listen, and since he’s junior to Stuart he has to follow Stuart’s orders.”
“Good.” Hancock indicated the Baltimore Pike. “Corporal, you said Lee is in command of the column, but who’s in command of the infantry regiment?”
The corporal bit his lip, plainly thinking. “A Major…Scythes?”
“Scythes? There’s no—Sickles. Is it Major Sickles?”
“Yes, sir! That’s it, sir! Sickles.”
“A politician of dubious military merit earning his credit for service. Lee and Stuart are capable officers, but otherwise we’ve some luck in our opponents, it seems.” Hancock looked around slowly, eyeing the terrain and his forces on the hill, then nodded. “Very well, Captain Buford. I’ll give you all but twenty of our mounted men. I need to keep some for scouts and couriers. But you can’t command the defense against Lee’s infantry coming up the pike if you’re overseeing dealing with Lee’s cavalry in the town. We need an officer to be in charge of the infantry blocking force.” Hancock’s words came out reluctantly, then he turned a grim look on Armistead.
Armistead nodded calmly. “I’m the only one left, Win. It’s not like you have a choice.”
“Damn it all, I know you can do it. Captain Armistead, what would you need to hold your position?”
“Everything we’ve got and then some.” Armistead smiled crookedly. “But give me what you can, Win, and I’ll make do.”
Hancock pivoted back to face the rider. “Corporal, is Major Sickle’s infantry regiment at full strength?”
“No, sir,” the corporal replied immediately. “Ain’t no unit at full strength, these days. He’s got about four hundred infantry, maybe five hundred.”
Hancock chewed his lip, staring at the grass again, then looked at Armistead. “Can you hold him with fifty men?”
Armistead pursed his lips and gazed down the pike as if Lee’s regiment were already visible, then eastward toward where the road came up the hill near the cemetery. “I’ve seen worse defensive positions, but ten to one odds isn’t recommended in the textbooks, Win.”
“I’m not asking you to kick Bobbie Lee’s ass back to Baltimore, Lo. Just hold here a while. We can’t travel near as fast as we’d like with Lincoln hurt and everyone exhausted. Give us time to put some distance between us and that damned regular army column, then you and Buford’s men are to come on fast and rejoin us before any more regular columns come from other directions. But I’ve got to keep a strong force with me in case we run into more regulars on Chambersburg Pike. If we do, James Longstreet and I are going to need every man we’ve got.”
“Fifty men?” Armistead saluted. “Yes, sir. Request permission to ask for volunteers.”
“Do so, sir.”
“Sergeant Maines, form the men. We have little time,” Hancock directed. “Choose the volunteers quickly and then release the rest so we can prepare to move out as quickly as possible.”
As they waited for the men with them to fall into formation, Chamberlain stepped close to Armistead. “Captain, I have a request to make.”
“Then please do so, sir. We are a little pressed for time.”
“I know how important this is. I…would like to volunteer to be part of your command. If that is the right way to say it.”
Armistead smiled. “Close enough, sir. Your offer is accepted.” He looked at Hancock, who had been glowering into the distance but now smiled back briefly as if both men were sharing a private joke.
The fifty volunteers were selected and forming up when Longstreet rode over to where Armistead and Chamberlain stood. “You’re staying, professor?”
Chamberlain nodded. “I found my Rubicon.”
“Have you? Don’t let down the men fighting beside you, professor.” Longstreet turned a somber gaze on Armistead. “Things have changed since Mexico, Lo. You know that. A lot of people don’t. They think it’s still about marching troops in tight formations straight at the enemy and trading volleys at close range. But it’s not smooth-bore muskets anymore. There are rifles now. Breech-loading carbines, even repeaters. One man under cover can hold off a dozen.”
“There’s truth to that,” Armistead agreed.
“Most of your men have weapons they don’t need to load standing up. Keep them spread out, shooting from behind any cover they can find. That’s my advice. Damn, Lo. I want to stay and do this myself. It’s my fault we’re here.” Longstreet frowned toward the south. “I don’t like it, Lo. Fighting Bobbie Lee. Helluva thing.”
“We have all chosen this, James. I am not happy about it, either. I pray that God has given me the wisdom to make the right choice, and that He have mercy on us all no matter our choice.”
“Hmph.” Longstreet turned his horse with a final look southward. “There’s no mercy in this world or the next, Lo. All that awaits us is whatever destinies our choices dictate. Good luck.”
“Good luck, James.”
As Longstreet rode off, Hancock returned, also mounted, looking so magnificent that Chamberlain finally fully understood why he had heard Hancock referred to as ‘the superb’ by some of the men. Hancock sat in his saddle, looking south. “Lo, your orders are to hold Bobbie Lee. Hold him until sunset if possible, but
not longer than that. You are to withdraw and follow us after sunset, establishing any further blocking positions as you deem necessary given the state of your command and the situation regarding the enemy. Don’t worry about Buford. If anyone can tie down the regular cavalry, it’s him. Just coordinate your movements with Buford and all should be well.” Hancock turned his eyes on Armistead. “I wish I could leave you more men. There will be a lot of pressure on you.”
“We will give you the time you need, Win,” Armistead assured him.
“As God is my witness, I wish I could stay here and fight beside you.”
“You have your own responsibilities and you’re a good enough officer to know that. In any event, you will be here in spirit, and by the Lord’s grace we’re on the same side,” Armistead replied with a smile.
Hancock grimaced, then speared Chamberlain with his gaze. “What of you, professor? You have volunteered to fight here, and Captain Armistead could use help in commanding the defense of this position.”
“Commanding?” Chamberlain looked from Hancock to Armistead in surprise. “I’m no West Point man, sir.”
“Neither is Mosby. I’ve been watching and listening to you, and you’ve skill despite your lack of training, an understanding of the difference between theory and action which many an armchair warrior lacks.” Hancock nodded grimly to Chamberlain. “And unless my instincts are wrong, sir, you are a leader men will follow. Will you accept a field commission and serve as Major Armistead’s deputy?”
“Major?” Armistead asked.
“A field promotion, Lo. I just decided on it. It’s not right I should be a colonel and you a captain. Would you be right with Chamberlain as a deputy?”
“I would.”
Chamberlain swallowed, thinking of the regular army column marching toward this location. He knew too much history to believe that victory here would be easy or inevitable. Far from it. Hancock clearly hated to leave his friend Armistead here, but both men understood the need.
As did he, Chamberlain realized. Words meant nothing if men were not willing to personally sacrifice for the principles in which they believed. He took a deep breath and faced Hancock. “Yes, sir. I would be honored to accept a field commission.”
“Then raise your right hand, sir. Do you swear to serve faithfully in the Army of the New Republic, to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies foreign and domestic and to follow all lawful orders given you by those officers senior to you in authority?”
“I do, sir.”
“Then I hereby appoint you to the brevet rank of captain of volunteers in the Army of the New Republic. Do your duty, sir.” Hancock seized his reins and made to turn his horse’s head, then paused for another look at Armistead. “Farewell, Lo.”
“Farewell,” Armistead echoed, saluting.
Hancock returned the salute, then pulled his horse around and galloped down the road toward where the rest of the column had begun moving steadily away.
Armistead spent a moment watching Hancock, then shifted his appraisal to the men awaiting his commands. “Let’s get the troops over to the other side of the hill and make sure they are properly placed, Captain Chamberlain. We have some rifles and some carbines, but also a fair number of pistols and shotguns. We will need to let the attackers get close before we fire, and that means getting the troops under cover as Captain Longstreet advised. There is little time nor tools to dig trenches, but we will do what we can.”
“Yes, sir.” Chamberlain saluted. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You didn’t seem surprised when Colonel Hancock proposed me as your deputy.”
Armistead smiled at Chamberlain. “Win and I both knew that you had already joined us in your heart, sir. He also spoke truly in his assessment of you. You will need confidence in yourself this day. Lack that confidence, and the men will know. Believe that what Colonel Hancock said of you is true, and together we will hold this hill. There goes the wagon with Mr. Lincoln. If you wish any farewells with him, you had best do so now.”
Chamberlain ran over to the wagon, which had just started to move, and pulled himself up onto the back. Inside he saw Lincoln lying on his pile of blankets, the plain-featured face drawn with strain and suffering from the wound and the rough travel. With no opportunity for shaving, a beard had begun sprouting on Lincoln’s chin, but the growth did not further roughen the man’s features, instead lending him some extra measure of dignity. “I’m staying here, Mr. Lincoln, with the soldiers who will be holding off the regulars. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Professor Chamberlain, and thank you for all you have done.” Lincoln offered his hand, which Chamberlain was relieved to find cool and not hot with fever.
“It is Captain Chamberlain now,” he advised Lincoln.
Lincoln smiled with surprising gentleness. “I hope to be worthy of the men who are defending me, Captain Chamberlain. Will I see you in Illinois?”
“Perhaps.” Chamberlain didn’t know if he would ever leave this hill, but he didn’t want to speak of that. “Events are coming to a head, it seems. I need to return to Maine, to help raise the state in rebellion in support of the New Republic, and then raise soldiers to help the struggle in other states.”
“A difficult and worthy labor, captain. My good wishes go with you.”
“There is little I can do, Mr. Lincoln, compared to what you can do. A man of the people must lead this rebellion against those who hold the people and the Republic in slavery.”
“You do me too much honor, sir.” Lincoln smiled, though sadness held his eyes as if they could see a future which held much sorrow and loss. “I will gather the forces of liberty and direct them as best I may, though I will be much like the man riding a river in flood on a raft, who seeks first to keep the raft afloat as the raging flood goes where it will. But perhaps this flood can be guided along a better course.”
“I’ll help all that I can, sir.” Chamberlain dropped off the wagon, watching it go, then jogged back to where Armistead waited.
As they led the fifty volunteers east to where the Baltimore Pike climbed up the side of the ridge near the cemetery, Captain Buford rode by and saluted Armistead. “I’ll keep Stuart busy, Lo. See you at sunset.” Then Buford led his column of mounted troops down into the town, where the residents, having seen the preparations for battle, had vanished from the streets.
When Chamberlain reached the Baltimore Pike he saw that the arch of the brick gateway to the cemetery faced it from just off the road. Most of the windows in the building also faced the road, with only one looking down the pike. “Pity,” Armistead muttered. “That could have been a useful defensive position.” Aside from a few trees and the grave markers and memorials there was little other cover on the west side of the pike.
On the east side of the pike the hill rose a bit farther, its top almost clear of trees except for a copse near the eastern side away from the pike. Farmers’ fields occupied this side of the pike, and a series of low walls made of carefully piled stone ran perpendicular to the pike, the nearest such wall almost even with the cemetery gatehouse and just short of the crest of the hill. The slope up the pike here to the top of the hill was significantly shorter and steeper than where the Taneytown road came up to the west, especially on the side of the pike where the cemetery lay.
“Sergeant Maines,” Armistead ordered. “A cemetery will have shovels at hand. Get them. Inform the owners, if they are about, that we will either return the shovels or leave adequate compensation.” Armistead moved his arm, pointing. “I will place half the men on each side of the pike. Two on the east side can fight from the gate house but the rest must dig and throw up such bastions as they can manage in the time we have. The troops on the west side of the road will fight from behind the stone wall and dig what trenches they may in its lee to improve their own cover.”
Maines saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“The men mu
st not be worn out when the regulars arrive, sergeant. We need to pace their work at fortifying this area.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll go acquire the shovels, sir.”
“Captain Chamberlain,” Armistead said as the sergeant left, “supervise the men digging in behind the stone wall. Make sure they are spread out, but that we have good strength toward the pike and are prepared to strike from the flank any force trying to charge past us up the road.”
“Yes, sir. How do I do that?”
Armistead smiled for a moment, then he used his hands to emphasize his words. “Throw up some of the dirt from the digging so it forms a bastion at the corner of the wall where it meets the road. Have it form a position from which several men can fire directly at the road and be protected, while also blocking anyone on the road from firing down the wall at the men behind it.”
Chamberlain found to his surprise that the men followed his directions without protest. The sun swung across the sky as the defenders labored to improve the natural defenses for the hill, everyone stealing glances down the Baltimore Pike whenever they took a break. Finally one man called out as five of Buford’s scouts came into view, tearing down the pike, but veering off toward the gap to the east well before reaching the slope leading up the hill. Behind them came at least twenty regular cavalrymen in pursuit, all of them following Buford’s men toward the gap.
Armistead brought out field glasses, standing in the center of the pike looking south, appearing totally calm. “The rest of the cavalry is in sight,” he told Chamberlain. “They are heading straight for the gap to the east of us, where Buford is waiting for them.” A flurry of shots sounded in that direction. “And where Captain Buford has just shown his command in full view and greeted the regular cavalry vanguard who forgot in the thrill of the chase their duty to screen the advance of their comrades.”
Chamberlain looked to the east, seeing several surviving cavalrymen retreating at high speed back to the south, then had his attention brought back to the pike by Armistead. “The infantry is in sight. They’re marching in good form. Either the corporal forgot to mention it or Colonel Lee has already received reinforcements. There are two cannon accompanying Lee’s force. Light horse artillery, but it can’t be discounted.”
The Last Full Measure Page 6