he also felt supreme confidence in Grant. Here was a man who, at last, was thinking on a broad scale, maneuvering what were three armies at the same time, each one stepping into place and closing the ring around Lee. Gone was the indecision of the past.
An empty barge pulled up, and Hancock slowly shuffled aboard, Mr. Bartlett behind him, their staffs following.
Within minutes the horses were run over the low bridge arching the canal, cables attached to the harnesses, rudder pulled out from what had been the stern and carried to the rear of the boat and set in place.
'Heave away!'
The horses leaned into the traces, and the barge was moving, picking up speed.
Hancock gladly sat down on a camp chair set up near the bow, Mr. Bartlett coming up by his side.
Hancock looked up at the man and smiled.
'Boxing him in, Mr. Bartlett. That's the game now. Lee's a wily fox, he is. He still might slip past us, he surely will try, but you and L we have other plans for him.'
Near Edwards Ferry
12:00 P.M.
The marching was hard. The sun had broken through the overcast, at first a welcome relief after the rain of the past two days. Within a few hours it started to dry the roads, making passage easier, but the heat and humidity were climbing, thick clouds building overhead, a clear sign that by late afternoon thunderstorms would lash down.
The head of his column was already through Poolesville, where they had waited for a half hour while he and Colonel Duvall had ridden forward to Edwards Ferry. He had hoped against hope that perhaps here might be the crossing. A few minutes of surveying their lines had turned his opinion against it.
The Yankees were well dug in, same as at Hauling Ferry. Entrenchments encircled the crossing he had so easily taken a year earlier during the Sharpsburg campaign. Four of the dreaded, hundred-pound Parrott guns guarded the crossing, backed up by at least two batteries of thirty-pounders and at least five thousand infantry.
If I had a fresh corps up, two or three battalions of artillery in support, I might venture it, Longstreet thought. It would cost, but we could do it. But that would take the rest of the-day, his column staggering along behind him, ten miles to the rear. Gather here, and it will be dusk before we can even hope to force the position, and that will give Grant time to close in from the rear.
Even as he surveyed the position, canal boats were passing by, ladened down with infantry and hundreds of colored civilians, all of them carrying shovels, picks, saws.
Has Lincoln drafted the colored of Washington? he wondered. If so, that would explain the massive fortifications confronting him.
He saw a banner draped on the side of one of the barges: WASHINGTON COLORED VOLUNTEERS.
He rode back to the head of the column, men standing back up after their noonday break, ready to resume the forced march.
'Duvall, scout ahead. We parallel the canal but out of sight of the Yankees along it. Find a spot where we can force a way across. The river can't be too wide where we cross, ideally with an island in the middle. Now ride!'
And the column had set off, afternoon sun blazing down.
Headquarters, Army of the Susquehanna Near Barnesville, Maryland
1:00 P.M.
The distant rattle of skirmishing echoed from farther down the road. The men in the column, which had stopped, leaned wearily on their rifles, ordered to stand in place, to not break ranks.
Since late morning, any break had resulted in scores and hundreds of exhausted men refusing to get up again, regardless of the threats of their officers or provost guards.
Grant could not blame them. They were numb from exhaustion. These were men pushed to the limit and beyond, survivors of the Hornets Nest. Many of the regiments were reduced to little more than company size-a mere fifty men gathered around a flag where there would once have been five hundred.
Phil Sheridan came trotting up the road toward him, grinning.
'We're hitting the back end of Longstreet's column just ahead,' he announced. 'We're right behind him.' 'Then keep pushing,' Grant replied sharply. 'Keep pushing.'
Five Miles West of Seneca Crossing on the Potomac 2:15 P.M.
Col. Phil Duvall slowly stood up, General Longstreet by his side. The crossing below was swarming with Yankee troops getting off canal boats and starting to form up. They both scanned the line with their field glasses. Duvall lowered his glasses and looked over at Longstreet. 'We have to try it,' Longstreet said. Duvall nodded, not replying.
Longstreet looked over at the young colonel. General Lee had pushed ahead to try to secure their flank at Darnestown while Pete had been ordered to take a narrow lane down to this crossing with his troops to see if they could somehow seize the position.
He had most of Scales's men up, two thousand men, concealed in the woods, nearly a brigade of cavalry with him.
'All at once,' Pete said, turning to look back at Scales. 'No artillery, complete surprise. Sweep down and into them. You must take that position.'
Scales nodded.
'I can do it,' he said quietly. 'Then go.'
Sergeant Hazner was at the fore of the charge, Colonel Brown by his side. Both were panting for breath. The day had turned scorching hot, and they had not had a drop of water in hours, but both knew that this charge, out of so many charges, was different. This was a race for the survival of themselves and their army.
They had indeed caught the Yankees by surprise. They could see them forming up, struggling to create a volley line.
They were down to less than a hundred yards, running full out.
No volleys, just a scattering of fire to start, and then the volume increasing. Men began to drop.
'Come on!' Brown screamed. 'One more time, boys, just one more time!'
Hancock stood up. Leaning against the bow of his canal barge, he saw the smoke rolling up from a field just around the bend in the river.
'Damn!
'Get us ashore here,' he shouted.
The steersman angled the boat over and slammed it against the embankment, Hancock nearly losing his footing. A couple of enlisted men, already on the embankment, reached over and half-lifted him out of the boat.
Bartlett started to jump off, but Hancock turned and looked back at him.
'No! Your people stay here!'
'We're needed, too,' Jim tried to argue.
'No. You stay here. They've caught us by surprise. Chances are we'll get pushed back, at least for now. Get your men out. Move them back up that way.'
He pointed farther along the canal, to a gently rising slope.
'Start digging in there. Build a redoubt. That's what we need now!'
Jim pointed the way, and his men, following in a half dozen barges, leapt for the shore and ran up the slope. Within minutes he had them at work, furiously digging, dragging fallen timber out of a nearby woodlot, tearing down split-rail fences and piling them up, forming a fortification for the Union troops to shelter behind.'
The charge began to slow out of sheer exhaustion. They were but fifty yards off, but had run nearly a quarter of mile to gain this ground. One man stopped, and then another, and raised his rifle and fired.
'Come on!' Brown shouted, but the men of the Fourteenth came to a stop, raised rifles, and fired. 'Keep moving!'
