advance. There was the occasional pop of a carbine, skirmishers firing at long range, but Stuart did not seem intent on holding him back.
Curious. Usually there'd be a fight for each ford, each bridge, if still intact. The countryside was peaceful, civilians out lining the road, some friendly, reporting that the rebel cavalry had run like cowards, others sullen, just watching, saying nothing.
The only wrinkle-the first courier had come up an hour ago with the report that Ely Parker from Grant's headquarters had crossed the river at Perryville and even now was riding to meet him. His people would, as ordered, 'lose' Ely, dragging him about in a frantic search to find the commander of the Army of the Potomac to no avail. By the time Ely found him, he'd be into the city, and there was no way in hell that Grant would then order him to retire.
It was a good day for a march and perhaps a bloodless retaking of Baltimore. Lighting a cigar, he fell back in along the road, empty for the moment of troops, and rode forward, the men raising a cheer as he passed.
The endless, relentless column of Longstreet's corps flowed along the roads into the western edge of the city. The men had covered nearly thirty miles in just under twenty-four hours, and the exhaustion was showing. In the last few hours straggling had increased; old men, young boys, seasoned soldiers, pale-faced from diarrhea, a stomach complaint, or lung illness, were now falling out. Unlike Jackson, he felt some slight pity for these men, especially after their nightlong march, and he had ordered his provost guards to deal lightly with them, to give out passes and tell them to fall back in when they were able.
Longstreet reined in, watching as a regiment of boys from Georgia flowed by. Marching order had broken down during the night, the neatly formed columns of fours replaced by a surge of movement, men jumbled together, most with rifles slung over shoulders, the roadside now Uttered with backpacks, blanket rolls, strange booty picked up over the last month and now tossed aside. Quilts, books, surprisingly a box of cigars, a clock, newspapers most likely hoarded not as reading material but for more practical purposes, a brass candelabra, a woman's silk dress, a framed painting of a ship, cooking pots, the usual decks of cards and whiskey bottles, all of it littering the side of the road as they passed. Nearly all were stripped down now to just musket, cartridge box, canteen. They kept on coming, most exhausted beyond caring, some with a fire still in their eyes, for the Army of Northern Virginia was on the march and there was a battle ahead. Most regimental commanders had passed the order that the men could strip down in the heat, so uniform jackets were slung over shoulders, revealing white cotton shirts long since gone to dirty, sweat-soaked gray. Men who had stripped off their shoes in the countryside now grimaced as they marched over cobblestones, cursing, of course, when they hit horse and mule droppings.
A courier came up, shouting, 'General Longstreet!' Ven-able guided the man in, a trooper with Stuart.
'What's the word?' Longstreet asked.
'Sir, General Stuart begs to report that the Yankees are advancing again. They stopped just after two in the morning.'
'I know that; when did they start to move again?'
'Sir, their Third Corps has come out of Abingdon; their Fifth Corps, which stopped at around three, is now advancing out of Bel Air. They fell back in just before eight or so.'
Longstreet smiled.
He had stolen a march on the Yankees, his men moving over thirty miles to Sickles's twelve to fourteen. He shook his head even as he smiled. In spite of the Yankee general's bombast in the papers, he was keeping to their usual pace, but of course that could change; there was a slightly unpredictable element to Sickles, in spite of General Lee's confidence in dealing with the man.
He looked at his men streaming by. He would prefer to give them a few hours' rest now, for the day ahead promised to be scorching hot and the few hundred he had lost so far to straggling could swell into the thousands by mid-afternoon, but his orders were clear, his destination clear.
He looked over at Venable.
'Get one of our boys with a fast horse to report this to General Lee. You know where to find him. Send another rider back to General Stuart and tell him that we are coming up fast and he should execute the plans that General Lee ordered. A courier to Pickett as well that he should know his orders and engage in the appropriate manner.'
It was going to be an interesting day, a most interesting day.
Jeb Stuart, hat off, the heat intense, trotted over to the light horse batteries that were drawn up across the road looking down toward the Gunpowder River. On the far bank, several Union batteries were deploying. His own guns were already at work, shelling the Union guns. The skirmish line of dismounted troopers, pushing forward, was thickening as he committed his reserves from Jenkins's and Fitz Lee's old brigades. The men were confident, with casualties so far light. They knew the game they were about to play, and they would play it with relish.
Chew's, Hart's, and Griffin's Maryland batteries were hard at work shelling the opposite slope and the approach down the gentle slope to the Gunpowder River. To add additional punch, a heavy twenty-pounder battery of Parrott guns, captured and kept in reserve at Baltimore, had come up as well, their deeper, throaty roar distinctive on the battlefield. On the opposite slope regiments of Yankee infantry were deploying out into battle lines, ready to surge forward and charge the valley.
He was relishing the moment Independent command, far ahead of Lee and the infantry, a holding action, their old enemy in front of them again. This was going to be interesting.
The first regimental volley sounded, a Yankee regiment on the far bank of the stream letting fly at long range at his own troopers in skirmish line. The men saw the puff of smoke, dived for the ground; several were hit but the rest stood up and pushed forward to the bank looking down on the stream. The battle was beginning to unfold.
He looked back down the road toward Baltimore. Pickett was supposed to have come out just after dawn. Lee did not want to spring the trap too soon, so this would take careful timing. And yes, in the distance he could see the dust boiling up on the road; the infantry support was coming.
Dan Sickles raised his field glasses yet again, scanning the opposite bank of the river, the shallow valley dividing the two forces. It was beginning!
It was still dismounted rebel cavalry over there, but reinforced now by a heavy battery, most likely brought up from Baltimore. The boys from his beloved Third Corps were shaking out from marching columns to lines. With the thump of artillery, the distant rattle of musketry and carbine fire, the veterans of the old army knew that the elephant was waiting. They were to see battle again, and here, six weeks after Union Mills, was a chance to restore their pride. Some were nervous, wide-eyed, especially the new ninety-day regiments, but the old hardcore looked ready, and as they reached the crest, swinging from marching formation into battle front, they appraised it professionally, a tough advance, but against dismounted cavalry it might not be so bad, and the ground was shallower than Union Mills.
David Birney, the commander handpicked by him to run the Third Corps, rode up.
'So it's starting, is it?' Birney cried. 'Looks that way. Stuart turned about a half hour ago. He chose some good ground.'
'Think there's infantry behind him?' 'Maybe. The garrison in Baltimore might come up, though I'd have assumed they would have waited in the fortifications. If it's the garrison, it just might be Pickett; word is that he was left behind.' Sickles pointed to the distant dust on the road heading from Baltimore.
'I'd dearly love to thrash that arrogant bastard,' Birney announced.
'Well, David, now is your chance. Force this stream; I don't want to get tangled up here. Send in the First Division.'
'What about Sykes and the Fifth Corps to the north?' 'They're coming out of Bel Air now, reporting the same thing, intense cavalry skirmishing.' Dan shook his head.
'I want Baltimore by dark. Lee must be moving by now. If he gets into that city and the fortifications, it will
