Stanton coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
'Our good secretary is reminding us, gentlemen, that we must deal with business before we can play with our dreams. Is your health well this morning, Mr. Secretary?'
'No, sir. The cursed asthma again.'
'I'm sorry to hear that, but yes, down to business.'
'Mr. President, I was just discussing with General Grant our wish that he establish his headquarters and operational base here in Washington. It will serve to defend our capital, but also has a logic in terms of logistics, with our superior water transport moving the men and equipment he might desire.'
Lincoln nodded thoughtfully, crossing his legs to reveal a pale white shin, his sock having slid down to pile up atop his shoe.
'And, General Grant, your opinion on this? I should add that though the secretary speaks in the plural with his statement as to 'our' wishes, I will admit to not having discussed this with him yet at length.'
Stanton bristled slightly and Grant saw the interplay between the two, and the opening Lincoln was providing him.
'Sir. I think Harrisburg is the better choice.'
'Enlighten me.'
He presented his argument in a concise, clear manner, both in terms of the plan he was formulating and the logistic issues, which Haupt weighed in on. Concluding his presentation, which took no more than five minutes, he fell silent.
'I think, sir, that establishing the base in Harrisburg would be redundant,' Stanton replied sharply. 'We already have Sickles north of the Susquehanna. It would divert from him resources and rolling stock needed for his own efforts.'
'I thought all efforts were for the same goal,' Lincoln said softly, looking back out the window.
'A renewed Army of the Potomac, a hundred thousand strong, coming down out of the north,' Stanton pressed, 'with General Grant here in Washington acting as the anvil, would force the conclusion we want.'
Lincoln looked back at Grant.
'Your reply to that?'
'A hundred thousand for the Army of the Potomac?' Grant asked.
'They are the army of this theater, sir,' Stanton replied.
'And have lost,' Grant said quietly without condemnation, just a simple statement of fact.
'Are you saying they should be disbanded?' Stanton asked heatedly.
'No, sir. They have a role, which I've already mentioned just now to the president. But a hundred thousand strong?'
'You disagree with the number?' Lincoln asked.
'Sir, you've appointed me commander in chief of all forces in the field. To do that task I must be in command, and in the field, not trapped in a besieged garrison. Washington will hold just fine for the moment. If another crisis appears, I can quickly shift men here as needed. But if I stay here, I will be cut off, only able to communicate with all the other field commands by a tenuous line of courier boats racing from here up to Perryville and back. The delay will be crippling in and of itself, and will render me ineffective in my post'
'You answer to the War Department, General Grant' Stanton said heatedly. 'General Halleck found it workable to run things from Washington. If you do not like that arrangement, sir…'
And his voice trailed off as Lincoln held up his hand for silence.
No one spoke as Lincoln stood back up and walked to the window. He gazed out for a moment. Grant looked straight at Stanton, who was obviously angry, breathing hard, each breath a labored struggle.
Lincoln finally turned.
'General Grant, I give you full discretion.'
Stanton shifted, looking over at Lincoln, about to protest
'Mr. Secretary, you've done an admirable job these last two weeks.'
Grant could detect a certain strain in Lincoln's voice. He knew of the controversy that had blown up about the contradictory orders sent by Stanton and Halleck to Meade, after Lincoln had ordered Meade not to risk his forces recklessly in an attempt to re-establish contact with Washington. He could see that there was a complex battle now brewing between these two men, and his own position was a major piece in that fight.
'Sir, I must protest' Stanton replied.
'And your protest will be duly noted. You are right that General Halleck managed things from here, but he did not win from here. I want General Grant out in the field. It's good to hear for once a commander asking for that, and not hiding behind his desk. I think General Grant is right: if he stays here in Washington, his position will be rendered ineffective, and we do not want that now, do we, Edwin?'
The secretary, flustered, was unable to respond.
'Good then, that's settled. Gentlemen, I've been up all night and would like to find some sort of breakfast So if you will excuse me.'
The group stood up as Lincoln headed to the door. He stopped and looked back.
'Grant, would you care to join me?' he asked.
'Mr. President, I have numerous details to go over with the general,' Stanton protested.
'I think General Haupt could be of more assistance to you at the moment Don't worry, I'll have our commander here back to you later today.'
Without waiting for a reply Lincoln was out the door. Elihu beckoned for Grant to follow.
Lincoln waited in the hallway as the door closed behind
Grant. Not a word was spoken as they went back down the stairs. The corridor was packed, word having raced through the building that the president and Grant were in with Stanton. Men snapped to attention, saluting, Lincoln smiling, shaking a few hands until they were out in the street.
To Grant's dismay he saw several reporters racing up, notebooks out, shouting questions. A provost guard was waiting, however, rounding the reporters up, pressing them back against the wall of the War Office. The press howled, especially when a captain of the guard shouted a reminder that the city was still under martial law and they were to keep quiet about whom they saw, under penalty of arrest.
Lincoln set off at a brisk pace, crossing the street, heading back to the White House, a mounted guard detail forming a circle around them, but moving at a discreet distance, allowing the three to talk without being heard.
'Well, that was interesting,' Elihu offered.
'Stanton wanted to chain you to that building,' Lincoln said, shaking his head. 'He wanted you where he could watch you and control you. You would think that we all would have learned by now.'
'I smell Halleck in this,' Elihu replied angrily.
'All of them are jealous,' Lincoln said, shaking his head. 'Grant, I'm afraid there are some here who are not pleased by your promotion.'
'I'm sorry if that is the case.'
'Don't be. It's not a time to be sorry about stepping on toes. Especially big toes sticking out from under the safety of their desks.'
'Yes, sir.'
'I think I'm going to like working with you, Grant,' Lincoln replied. 'You're from the West, as I am; we see things differently. None of this flummery and posturing. I'm sick to death of it, while good boys are dying. Why everyone needs so dang much gold braid to play dress up for what is after all the business of killing is beyond me.'
Grant spared a glance down at his own soiled tunic and trousers. He had been a bit embarrassed while riding through the city. He was glad now his dress uniform had been left behind.
'Smoke, if you feel like it, Grant; I know it bothers our poor secretary with his lung sickness, but it's fine by me. When we meet Mrs. Lincoln, however, I'll ask you to refrain.'
'Yes, sir.'
He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the last of his cigars, and paused for a second to strike a match on the side of his boot. He puffed it to life and nodded his thanks.
'That's Grant. I know it!'
