Beauregard looked at the milling crowd of spectators who had gathered at the station to see him off. The afternoon had gotten quite warm, and the group was beginning to thin and drift away.
The send-off was to have been a grand affair, band playing, troops lining the track, his departure in command of what he already called the Army of Maryland a major social event.
Troops had been slowly streaming into Richmond for the last week, more than five thousand following him up from Charleston, eight thousand more from garrison duties in North Carolina and south-eastern Virginia, several thousand more dragged in from state militias as far as Georgia. He judged about half of them to be fit for combat; the others were going to have to learn, and damn quickly. The two brigades that had been detached from Pickett prior to the invasion were already up in Winchester, waiting to move forward.
Except the damn railroads were failing to deliver as promised. Engines were breaking down; sections of track were in such an abysmal state that the trains could barely move at ten miles an hour; the new uniforms and shoes promised by Zebulan Vance of North Carolina had yet to materialize. Again, because of supposed 'problems with shipment,' no artillery was available, and the remounts for cavalry were one step removed from being converted into rations as an act of compassion.
Yet still it was
Technically his rank was equal to Lee's, and while the implication was that his command would constitute a new Third Corps for the Army of Northern Virginia, he just smiled at that assumption. There would be more than enough room in Maryland, both politically and militarily, to assert his own position. His arrival would be seen as that of the savior sent to bring succor to the battered Army of Northern Virginia in its hour of need. He alone of all the generals in the East had faced Grant and knew his ways. That expertise could not be denied, and he would make the most of it.
The shriek of a whistle interrupted his musings. A lone train was coming around the bend into the station, and on cue the band struck up 'Dixie.' The crowds, which had been drifting off, came hurrying back, children waving small national flags.
Wheezing and hissing, the locomotive drifted into the station, behind it three passenger cars for himself and his staff.
He climbed aboard, remaining on the rear platform of the last car as staff and an escort of a company of infantry scrambled on to the train. It was already more than an hour late, so there was no time for final, lingering farewells. The last man barely aboard, the train lurched, a shudder running through the three cars. The band struck up 'Maryland My Maryland,' a tune that everyone seemed to be singing these days.
Striking the proper pose on the back platform, the South's 'Little Napoleon' set forth for war in Maryland, the train forcing itself up to ten miles an hour as it left the station, and then settling down to the slow, monotonous pace, railings clicking, cars swaying back and forth on the worn rails and crumbling ballast.
Chapter Thirteen
I Hope, General Lee, that you would consider attending our Sabbath day service this Friday. My congregation and I would be honored by your attendance.'
Lee smiled warmly at his host and nodded his thanks.
'Rabbi, I would indeed be honored.'
'Please, just Samuel, General Lee.'
Lee could not help but respond to this man's natural, warm hospitality. In spite of his preference for formality and tradition in nearly all social occasions, he felt he should let it drop this evening.
'Then Robert for myself, sir.'
Rabbi Samuel Rothenberg bowed slightly while remaining seated, then offered to refill Lee's glass of wine. Lee motioned for just a small amount to be poured, but the rabbi filled the glass nearly to the brim anyhow.
'What did you think of dinner, General Lee?' Judah Benjamin asked.
'Delicious. I'm not paying a false compliment when I declare it is the best meal I've enjoyed since the start of this campaign.'
Judah laughed softly.
'So we have converted you to kosher cuisine?' 'Sir?'
'Everything tonight was kosher.'
'I am relieved not to have to eat salt pork for once, sir, if that is what you mean.'
'Not in this house, sir,' Samuel laughed, holding up his hands in mock horror.
'Well, sir,' Lee grinned, 'I wish you could teach our army cooks a few things. I think the Army of Northern Virginia could benefit from a kosher diet.'
The three laughed good-naturedly at his joke.
As Lee looked over at his host sitting at the head of the table, and his attractive wife at the other end, their two young children sitting wide-eyed and respectful to either side of their mother, he was warmed by the situation. It was a blessing to sit in a friendly home, tastefully decorated, the food well prepared, the host and hostess so congenial, cultured, and well educated.
The children had been a relaxing pleasure, quickly warming to him when he expressed interest in their studies, and he had sat, fascinated, when the elder of the two recited from the Torah in Hebrew, the boy obviously delighted by the attention, while the younger was beside himself to talk about trains and all the names of the locomotives he had seen. It had been a wondrous pre-dinner diversion and he had insisted that the parents not interfere for, in fact, he was truly enjoying himself.
Prior to his arrival, under a heavy escort that even now loitered outside, guarding the house, he did have to confess to a slight trepidation over this engagement that Judah had so casually offered him. He had never taken a meal in a practicing Jewish household, and he wasn't sure what to expect The prayer, however, except for no mention of Jesus, was familiar and comfortable to him, drawing on the Psalms. The conversation over dinner was sophisticated, urbane, with the rabbi quickly sharing memories of New York City and his knowledge of military history, which was quite extensive, especially when it came to Napoleon's campaign of 1805.
The house was appointed with a bit of a Germanic Old World touch to it the rabbi having emigrated from Prussia during the unrest of the 1840s. At times his English did have a slight accent, but his command of his adopted language was superb. He could claim acquaintances with a number of noted personages in America, including several senators, both North and South, and was proud of the literary discussion group that he hosted each month.
Samuel was fascinated by a poet and short-story teller of whom Lee had heard, a washed-out cadet from the Point who had attended the Academy shortly after Lee graduated and who had taken to writing tales of the macabre until his premature death from excessive drinking. The rabbi even had one of his original poems, unpublished, which the poet had given him as a thank-you for a weekend's lodging and several meals shortly before his death. The work, 'The Nightmare of the Wandering Jew,' was interesting, but upon reading it when Samuel showed it to him before dinner, Lee felt it to be somewhat overblown, yet out of politeness he expressed admiration for this rare literary item.
'Samuel and I go back some years,' Judah declared as he accepted his second glass of Madeira. 'I tried to convince him to come to Richmond to help me when the war started.'
Samuel laughed and shook his head.
'Come now, Judah. Two Jews in the Confederate government? Some would say it was an outright conspiracy of our people to take over.'
'Still, you have a sharp mind, Samuel; I could use some of your advice now and again.'
'Such as tonight?' Samuel asked with a smile.
Judah fell silent and looked over at Lee.
'I think it is time that you gentlemen excused us,' Mrs. Rothenberg announced. 'The children need to do their
