The streets were beginning to fill with early-morning traffic. Several companies, in columns of fours, were marching by in the other direction, and a cheer went up for Lincoln and Grant.
Grant did not acknowledge it; it was something he hated and it was clearly evident these men had never served under his command. Lincoln tipped his hat, nodded, and pressed on.
The last wisps of morning fog were breaking up, the sun hot and low on the eastern horizon, casting long shadows.
They approached the front entrance to the White House. The troops who were camped on the ground were getting rousted out, the word of who was approaching obviously having raced ahead. Orders were shouted, men falling into ranks, forming twin lines across the front lawn and snapping to attention. Lincoln stopped and put a hand on Grant's shoulder, causing him to turn.
'A few comments and questions before we go in,' Lincoln said softly.
'Anything, sir.'
'You are to be in sole command, General. We have lacked that for too long. To be frank, I felt that General McClellan saw the armies as nothing more than his personal escort I made mistakes as well then; I was patient when I should have interfered and I interfered when I should have stepped back. I think any president would be tempted to do so, but I've learned my lessons. I think as well I should have been far more forceful in finding a general that would fight, then letting him go do his business. You are my expert at battle, so unless there is a profound issue that cannot be avoided by me, I will stand back and let you see to your business.'
Grant could not reply to that. The reality was simply too startling. But three short weeks ago he was handling a siege on the Mississippi, all that he commanded almost within direct view at any given moment. Now every soldier as far afield as Texas or the Indian Territories was under his command
And yet it did not overwhelm him. He thought of the many cold, rainy nights, sitting alone with Sherman, talking of how the war should be fought, how if allowed to do so they could bring the bloodletting to an end. The price, up front, would be cruel, and yet in the end it would spare all of the nation endless years of half measures and unrelenting agony. This president had just given him that power.
'The secretary is not happy with your appointment. Frankly, it was done without serious consultation with him. Some claim it was the spur of the moment, the night I learned of the destruction of the Army of the Potomac. Maybe so, but I will tell you, Grant, that the thought had been building for some time.'
'I appreciate that confidence, sir, I hope I can live up to it.'
'All right, then. To speak bluntly and no whispers on the aside. I know about your problem with drinking.'
Grant flushed and lowered his head.
'I know as well that you have kept it under control in spite of the vicious rumors launched by your enemies, including some back in that very office we just left.
'I'll only say this once and the matter will never be spoken of again. Until this war is finished, not another drop, sir. If you shall fail in that pledge, your enemies and mine will howl for your head and I doubt if even I will be able to save it. I have placed a confidence in you and I expect it to be observed.'
Grant looked back up into his eyes and saw there was no recrimination. The gaze was almost fatherly as Lincoln reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
'You have my word of honor on that, sir,' Grant replied humbly.
'Good. Nothing more will be said on that,' and Lincoln smiled.
'Now, establish your headquarters where you will. If Harrisburg is your choice, so be it'
'And General Sickles, sir?' Lincoln sighed.
'My hand was forced on that point. He might be a thorn in your side, the last of the old guard of McClellan's time, but then again, he seems to have conducted himself well in division and corps command. And like it or not, he was right about the second day at Gettysburg. If he had been allowed to advance, the same request he had made at Chancellorsville, all might be different now.'
Lincoln smiled.
'Perhaps we would not even be meeting like this if he had been listened to. Some philosophers muse on the idea that history can take many paths, and perhaps that is true. It might very well have been the case at Gettysburg. So General Sickles now has his chance, but he is to answer to you.'
'And if I find it necessary to relieve him?'
Lincoln sighed and looked away.
'Grant, you are the supreme military commander, but in this one case I will have to ask for your forebearance. Can I ask you to trust me on this score? The ramifications would, unfortunately, go far beyond the military issues and affect our entire war effort. I hope you understand.'
He could not refuse the request as Lincoln had just made it, as if he was a neighbor asking for a favor.
'Yes, sir. Whatever you wish.'
'Fine then. Are you hungry?'
Grant smiled and nodded his head.
'Yes, sir, to tell the truth I'm starving.'
'We have an excellent cook. Perhaps some flapjacks with maple syrup, a good slice of fried ham, and some coffee?'
'I'd be delighted.'
'We'll talk more later, when we are alone. But let's relax for the moment. I just met this remarkable fellow I'd like you to meet Hope you don't mind that he's colored.'
'Of course not, sir.'
'Been learning a lot of history from him these last few days; he's known every president since Madison. Has some delightful insights.'
'It would be a pleasure to meet him.'
'Good then. Elihu, I know you're looking for a meal as well at taxpayers' expense.'
'Thank you, Mr. President.'
Lincoln started to lead the way again, but then stopped and it seemed as if a visible weight had suddenly come back down upon his shoulders. He looked back at Grant, eyes again dark, careworn.
'May I ask a question, General Grant?'
'Yes, sir, anything.'
'Can we win? Can we end this madness before it destroys us all, North and South?'
The intensity of the question, the look in Lincoln's eyes struck him. Rarely given to sentiment, he found his own voice choking for a moment, and he was unable to speak. It was as if a mystical bond was, at that moment, forged between them. As if in whatever way possible, he had to lift some of the infinite burden off this man's shoulders, and even as that thought formed he felt the weight, the awesome responsibility of knowing that the republic, its very survival, its fate over the next hundred years, rested on him as well.
He slowly nodded his head, looking straight into Lincoln's eyes.
'Yes, sir, we can win.'
Chapter Ten
The last of the storm was passing to the southeast, dark clouds bristling with lightning. Stepping down off the porch of a pleasant frame house whose owner had offered him coffee and biscuits while waiting out the blow, Lee stretched, looking around, breathing deeply of the cool fresh air that came sweeping down out of the northwest.
After three weeks of unrelenting heat, humidity, and rain, he could feel that the weather had indeed changed, that this last blow had swept the air clean. The rain had come down in torrential sheets for a half hour, swamping the road, but now, as a column of men from Pickett's division were filing out of the woods where they had sought temporary shelter from the blast, he could see their renewed vigor. The temperature had dropped a good fifteen to
