for over a month. They had seen victory and in spite of the painful marching in the rainy fields, they were in high spirits, ready for anything. He knew that if he but whispered a few words, ordering them to form up and charge the fortifications, they would do so without hesitation.
Pressing on, he rode down into a tree-clad hollow, the muddy stream, which for most of the year was most likely nothing more than a brook that a boy could leap, now swollen, dark, coming nearly to Traveler's chest as they plunged across.
Several dozen troopers were at work, fashioning a rough-hewn bridge across the stream out of two logs and heavy planks torn from the side of a nearby barn. An ambulance lay on its side downstream, obviously flipped over when its driver had attempted to ford the torrent.
Traveler, slipping, gained the opposite side of the stream and with a quick jump took the muddy slope. The skirmishers, moving ahead, had slowed and Jeb nodded.
'We're there,' he announced.
Lee nodded and without comment pressed on. Walter fell in by his side, as did Hood and Hotchkiss, the rest of the staff staying back under the canopy of trees.
'We're inside the District of Columbia now,' Hotchkiss announced with a hint of ceremony in his voice.
A couple of the scouts ahead stopped, turned, and came cantering back, the rest of the line slowing to a walk then reining in.
A messenger came up, saluting.
'It's ahead, sir, you'll see their line in a minute. Sir, it's rather close.'
Lee smiled at the boy's caution. The message was clear, he'd prefer it if the general would stop now.
'I need to see,' Lee said softly. 'Lead the way, Captain.'
The captain saluted and turned his mount, Lee following, with Taylor, Hotchkiss, and Hood following behind.
He could already see the vague outlines of the fortifications, an unnatural straight line, horizontal, cut like a razor's edge a quarter mile away. Gradually it came into clearer view as he reached the forward skirmish line. Most of the men were dismounted, carbines raised, the troopers looking anxiously toward Lee at his approach.
'Sir, would you please dismount?' the captain asked. 'They've got plenty of ammunition over there and they like using it.'
As if to lend weight to the argument, there was a flash of light from a gun emplacement, followed a couple of seconds later by the whoosh of a shell passing overhead, to detonate a hundred yards behind them.
Lee nodded but did not get off Traveler, who barely flinched as another shell streaked past
The young captain positioned his mount between Lee and the fort
Lee smiled.
'Captain, you are blocking my view.' The captain looked to Stuart who nodded, and the captain moved.
'Sir, if they realize who we are, it means they'll shift troops here,' Stuart said.
Lee said nothing, but he knew Stuart was right and, dismounting, he moved down into a shallow ravine, walked up a few dozen paces, and uncased his field glasses.
Stuart and Hood were quickly by his side.
He scanned the fort It was a significant work, a dozen gun embrasures, what looked to be thirty-pounders, perhaps heavier. He caught glimpses of troops along the parapet, Union soldiers curious, looking over the earthen wall in his direction.
A dull thump echoed and he saw the sparks of a mortar shell lazily rising up, trailing smoke, fuse sputtering. It climbed, seemed to hover nearly overhead, then came plummeting down, striking a hundred yards behind him in a splash of mud, the fuse smothered and going out.
Hotchkiss knelt down by his side.
'Fort Stevens. It always has at least one battery of heavy guns, we're told thirty-pounders, rifled. Also a battery of eight-inch mortars as you can see. Garrisoned also with a regiment of infantry. You can't see them in this mist but the forts to either flank are within easy gunnery range, enfilading the approaches with at least one hundred-pound Parrott gun in each. Anyone attempting to cross this field will be hit by guns from at least three fortifications.'
Lee nodded, stood up looking to the flanks, but the mist concealed the positions.
'The military road just behind the fortifications links all positions and is well maintained, macadamized in parts or corduroyed. They can easily shift significant reinforcements in and move them back and forth to counter any move. I would assume they are doing so now and will bring up additional troops from the center of the city.'
Lee focused his field glasses back on Stevens, ignoring another mortar round as it struck fifty yards to the front, this one detonating with a flash just before striking the ground.
'Good gunners,' Hood muttered, 'cut the fuse right.'
'Might I suggest we move,' Jeb said, 'they've bracketed you, sir.'
That caught him. It wasn't 'us,' it was 'you '
He nodded without comment, cased his field glasses, and walked into the hollow. Seconds later a third round whistled in, striking and detonating within yards of where they had been standing.
He looked over at Jeb and smiled.
'Excellent recommendation, General,' Lee said.
'They've been firing away since last night, sir. They're garrison troops but well practiced, at least in gunnery.' After mounting up they rode a few hundred yards farther on and, crossing the main road, the group reined in again. Lee raised his field glasses once more, scanning the fort, which was half-concealed in the fog.
Ramparts stood at least ten to fifteen feet high, a dry moat, most likely a muddy swamp now with all this rain, six lines of abatis, sharpened stakes ringing the position like a deadly necklace, earthworks running outward, connecting the position to the next fort to the east, a low blockhouse of logs and rough-hewn barriers blocking the road. It was formidable!
A rifle ball hummed dangerously close and then another. One of his escorts cursed and clutched his arm.
'They might have some sharpshooters over there armed with Whitworth rifles,' Hotchkiss said. 'Sir, I think we should pull back to safety.'
Lee reluctantly agreed, and turning Traveler he regained the road and cantered back into the mists. A parting shot from one of the thirty-pounders shrieked overhead.
Near the stream where troopers still labored to build a bridge over the swollen creek, he stopped, Jeb pointing the way to a tarpaulin spread taut in a stand of chestnut trees, a table and chairs beneath.
Dismounting, the group gathered around the table. Hotchkiss reached into his oversized haversack and pulled out a map on rough sketch paper, folding it out on the table.
'I drew this up last night,' Hotchkiss said, 'after talking to some of Stuart's men and interviewing some locals who claim to be on our side.
'This is Fort Stevens, which you just saw,' he said as he traced out the necklace of fortifications that were like beads on a chain embracing the city.
'Are there any weak points at all?' Lee asked.
Even as he spoke and looked at the map, the moment struck him as strange, tragic. This was once his home. He remembered a Washington without fortifications, lush meadows and fields surrounding the city, blistering in the summer but delightful in autumn and early spring.
Hotchkiss shook his head.
'They've covered every approach. Trees and brush cut back in places for nearly two miles to give clear fields of fire and deny concealment. The Virginia side is even worse.'
Lee said nothing. He knew Arlington had been turned into a fortified camp. The approach to Alexandria, where the main military railroad yard was located, was an impossible position to storm.
