Grant Comes East

Chester.

'Any identification? Who are they?'

'Sir, we picked up a couple of deserters from the Nineteenth Corps; they were hiding in a barn not five miles from here. Said they were fed up and going home. Seems like they were the ones out on that march and these two snuck off.'

'Nineteenth?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Did they say where they came from?'

'Harrisburg.'

Damn.

So he had one piece of the puzzle that Lee had sent him for, if the deserters were to be believed. 'Did you take them prisoner?' 'No sir, we let them go.' 'Why?'

'One was so damn sick, sir, he was near dead; the other was just a scared boy, the sick man's young brother. We took their parole and left them. Colonel Baker, though, felt we should believe them.'

Then the Nineteenth was in Harrisburg. And that spoke volumes.

'Anything else?'

'No sir, nothing we saw. Like I said, a few farmers said that Yankees have been marching up and down the roads the last few weeks. Carrying all equipment, the men said they were drilling. We found a farm boy wearing a Yankee cap with the corps insignia for the Thirteenth, said he found it after some troops marched by, heading back toward Harrisburg. One woman we met just before seeing the Yankees said she was born in South Carolina and she did sound like it Married a Yankee, God save her. She said that no civilians are allowed anywhere near Harrisburg, all the roads are closed off with military guards, and you need a pass to get in or out.'

That was to be expected. The Northern newspapers had openly reported that bit of information and complained bitterly about it and about the imposition of martial law on not just the city but the entire surrounding county.

'Sir, Colonel Baker says he's pulling back and he'd like some support.'

Wade nodded. The Second South Carolina was less than a half hour up the road, heading toward Reading behind the First North Carolina. He'd turn the Second around now. But the First? If they could at least get to Sinking Springs and destroy some track and telegraph lines there on the main route between Harrisburg and Reading, it would be a major accomplishment. He had hoped that Baker could actually close on the outskirts of Harrisburg while he held the center here and moved on Reading. Now that was in doubt.

He hesitated. Concentrate? Suppose Baker was overreacting? Perhaps this cavalry force was nothing more than second-rate militia that would scatter when faced with a real charge?

But if not, if I let them swing behind me, cut me off from the river, and they are seasoned troopers, it could be a problem.

And yet Stuart had faced far worse numbers. He had ridden clean around the entire Army of the Potomac, raised havoc, gathered intelligence, and lost only a few score men.

No. Don't hesitate now.

'Let Baker fall back here. I'll keep Cobb's legion here and I'll stay as well. Tell Baker to fall back and lead them on. We'll give them a good drubbing here.'

The couriers saluted, turned, and started back west.

Wade watched them leave and turned to look at the sun, now warm and golden in the morning sky. It would most likely be a hot day, but the weather was fair, the roads were good, the farmland was rich. He was farther north than any Confederate cavalryman had ever dreamed possible only six months ago, and he would make the most of it. Beat these men before mid-afternoon, then on to Reading. A fire in that rail yard would most likely be a sight to behold, outshining anything Jeb could ever hope to boast about.

In Front of Washington

August 18,1863 7:00 a.m.

'It had come.

General Lee found it hard to contain his excitement. For more than a year he had laid out dozens of such plans. Some had come to fruition, many had disappeared and been forgotten. For once communications were on the Confederate side. The telegraph line from the south bank of the Susquehanna clear down to his headquarters before Fort Stevens had been fully restored. Extra wire had been found in Baltimore along with some telegraphers who had volunteered to help string a line straight to his headquarters. It was a luxury he had never operated with before, to have instant communications with scouts stationed almost seventy miles away. He marveled at the new potentials he saw before him.

The first report had come in at three in the morning, Walter interrupting his sleep with the message that significant activity was going on along the north bank of the river. Steam engines were firing up their boilers. An hour before dawn the gunboats on the river had come up close to shore, and minutes later a tug pushed in a barge loaded with a regiment of troops to secure the bank. As ordered, his light screen of cavalry had traded a few shots at long range, then appeared to flee. Just before dawn the first heavy ferry had crossed, carrying nearly a thousand men.

The forward station had just closed down, the last message … Dozens of ships moving on river, infantry, artillery, cavalry. Third Corps. Flags of Fifth Corps identified on heights of north bank. Must abandon station.

As he had anticipated, the Third Corps was in the lead. That was a vanity he expected of Sickles. The man had played true to form.

There had been no movements or sightings of troops attempting to come down the Chesapeake, to reinforce either Washington or the garrison at Fort McHenry. That had been his one great concern, that Lincoln would play the card of caution and reinforce the garrison of Washington. If the Army of the Potomac had transferred here, en masse, secure behind the fortifications, it might have presented him with a strategic dilemma, a field force of maybe fifty thousand, positioned closer to Richmond than his own army, with Grant threatening from the rear. No, Sickles had played the card he wanted. He imagined Grant would be beside himself with anger. 'Walter.'

As always his adjutant was waiting and was under the awning within seconds. Lee looked up at him, smiled.

Walter scanned the latest, confirming that the Army of the Potomac was beginning to ship over artillery. This was no raid or feint; it was the real thing at last.

'It's not a reconnaissance,' Walter said excitedly. 'They're moving. He'll have the entire army over by tomorrow morning and will be on the march.'

Lee nodded.

'Send for Generals Longstreet, Hood, and Beauregard. I want this army on the march, as planned.'

Walter, grinning, ran from the tent.

General Lee sat back in his chair. He felt utterly confident, a confidence that had been shaken at Fort Stevens and even by the troubling conversation with Benjamin and Rabbi Rothenberg. The game was afoot again, he was back in his element, and all doubts were put aside. The trap had been sprung as he had planned. By midday, his entire army would be on the march, streaming north through the night. By late tomorrow he would hit Sickles with everything he had, unless the man showed caution, dug in on the banks of the Gunpowder River, and held back.

But he knew this opponent, as he had known all the others. Sickles would not hesitate. He would see his chance for glory, to upstage Grant, to take Baltimore back. He would come on fast.

It would now be a footrace. Now it was a matter of weather and luck, both of which had rarely failed the Army of Northern Virginia in any of its campaigns.

Near Hinkleton, Pennsylvania

East Bank of the Conestoga River

August 18,1863 3:00 p.m.

Wade Hampton ducked as the shell detonated only a dozen feet away, showering him with dirt. Standing back up, he saw one of his staff not moving, a glance showing that the boy was dead, a shell fragment having sliced