The major swayed slightly, then stiffened.
'Major, rest assured your men will be treated with honor. As quickly as arrangements can be made, all of the men of the Army of the Potomac, wounded or not, will be paroled and exchanged. Till then, the kind owner of this house and my medical staff will look after you.'
'Thank you, sir,' the major whispered. An elderly sergeant stood up and came to the major's left, protectively putting an arm around his side, and helping him to sit back down.
Lee turned away and walked back to Pete, motioning him to fall in by his side.
'We can't handle twenty thousand or more prisoners,' Lee said softly. 'I can't detail more men off as escorts to take them South. I'll have Walter find a printing press, we'll run off parole notes, and let those people go. The exchange can free thousands of our boys now held up in Elmira and Camp Douglas.'
Pete nodded in agreement.
'Unfortunately, the men we will get back with the exchange will not be fit to fight immediately.'
'I don't care about that, though I wish it were different. We must make the gesture; besides, it is the only thing we can do now.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Thank you for your efforts this day, General Longstreet. This time you were the anvil, and you've gained us another brilliant victory.'
'The cost though,' Pete sighed. 'I am leaning toward relieving George of his command. He badly mishandled his division yesterday.'
'General Longstreet, we walk a fine line, at times, between daring and foolhardiness. We praise when it works; we blame when it doesn't. Maybe it could be said that General Pickett's actions emboldened Sickles to press forward into the trap, maybe not. I suspect that will be yet another issue historians will argue about long after we are gone. I'll review the issue later when we have time, look at the ground, talk to Armistead and the other brigade commanders, then decide.'
'Yes, sir.'
'It is Grant now that we must think of.' Pete smiled.
'This will put a twist in his tail.'
'Yes, but the question is, How will he jump now that his tail is twisted?'
'I think, sir, he just might hold north of the Susquehanna. He's lost maybe upward of a third of his total available field force this day. I think the assumption was fair that he planned to move in a concentrated manner: Sickles along the Chesapeake to hold our attention while he crossed over the South Mountains and sought to engage us. After this he might very well hold back till spring to build up sufficient force.'
Lee looked across at the bay. A heavy line of his infantry were sweeping down toward the docks. Rifle fire snapped and rolled as last-ditch survivors from the Union side turned and continued to fight. A battery of artillery clattered past the plantation, moving at a swift canter, horses panting, lathered in sweat, deploying out into a field a hundred yards away, preparing to shell the harbor. The killing was still going on. Even in its death agony the Army of the Potomac was still kicking back; a shell winged in to detonate over the heads of the deploying battery; several gunners dropped.
Lee shook his head.
'No, General Longstreet. He will move. But it will take him time to absorb the shock of this defeat. His plans now are in disarray but Lincoln cannot afford a stalemate into next spring. For that matter, nor can we. If Grant does not move, we will eventually turn back to Washington, tighten the noose, and then try to starve it out through the winter. Lincoln and Grant both know that would be my next step now that the Army of the Potomac is gone.
'No, sir, he will move, but it will take him time to absorb what happened. I'll give him a week, two weeks, perhaps, but I do want it to come.
'We'll move up toward the Susquehanna tomorrow; there is still their old Fifth Corps to bag. Once there, we'll see what develops. If he does move, we'll try to catch him in mid-crossing; if not, we turn back on Washington yet again.'
The battery in the yard below opened up, solid shot arcing up, plummeting down, geysers of water soaring up around the docks swarming with men. It had to be done, but still it was sickening to him. Why couldn't they just lay down their arms? He'd take their paroles without question and then send them safely home, as long as they pledged to no longer fight. But no, this was his old rival, the valiant Army of the Potomac, so badly led on so many fields, yet its men still willing to fight to the bitter end.
He had yet to face Grant, to see a single soldier of the much-heralded western armies, but he sensed now that they were of the same stern stuff as the Army of the Potomac and, for that matter, his own men. Yes, perhaps more like his own for they were not tainted by defeat; they would be eager to match wits and fire against him, general against general, regiment against regiment, man against man.
'We have been blessed with two stunning victories, General Longstreet; we must make it a third to finish this once and for all.'
He turned and slowly made his way back to the porch to sit under the shade, his body trembling with exhaustion.
As he gained the porch he saw a knot of Union soldiers kneeling by the side of the major he had spoken to only minutes before. The man's face was gray, eyes closed.
He was dead.
The major's head was cradled in the sergeant's lap. He could sense the bond between the two. The fair young officer, the old tough regular who had nursed him along and now held him in death.
The sergeant looked up at Lee.
'How many more like this, General Lee?' the sergeant asked.
'I am sorry,' Lee whispered. 'I pray no more.'
The sergeant shook his head.
'No, sir, there will be more.'
'I know,' Lee admitted sadly and turned away.
He looked back down toward the bay. His advancing infantry were almost to the docks. He could catch glimpses of Union flags still held aloft, knots of men refusing to quit gathered around them, fighting to the end. More batteries were unlimbering just below the plantation, firing down into the harbor.
If only it was Grant down there, and this was the final battle. Then he could find solace in knowing that this, indeed, was the last day.
That was what he must now seek. Lure Grant across the river in a week or two, once his men had been well rested, refitted, and reorganized after this grueling fight. Seek out Grant… and end it
Chapter Twenty-one
It was a beautiful early morning, the intense storm front of the night before having wiped the air clean of the stench of battle, dropping the temperature so low that it almost felt like the opening of an early autumn day in mid to late September.
General Lee watched as his men, filled with swagger in spite of the night march, approached the high bluffs looking out over the river.
They were a victorious army yet again. They had driven Sykes back, taking thousands of prisoners; the last huddled remnants of his force were down in the harbor at Perryville, loading aboard the ferries. Lee would bring up artillery to shell them at long range, but he would advance no farther. The gunboats, which had fought to cover the withdrawal of the survivors of the Third and Sixth Corps, had steamed through the night to cover as well these last few units still in retreat.
He had shattered, once and for all, the Army of the Potomac. Reports were that nearly fifteen thousand had fallen in the two-day fight, another twenty thousand taken prisoner. The old foe was finished forever, and yet Lee
