Grant nodded, sat back, unfolded the sheets of paper, and began to read.
The room was silent as Grant read the memo carefully. Finished, he put it down, then picked it back up, and read it one more time.
Finished, he looked over at Elihu.
'And this was written after the casualty reports from Frederick?' he asked.
'Yes, General, it was.'
Grant sighed and folded the document up.
'I half expected when you arrived that it was with orders to relieve me.'
'That's absurd, Grant.'
'Frederick was a near-run thing, very near run.'
'You warned us of that cost a month ago. You warned the president again just last week. He was prepared for it, though I know the news did come as a shock. But Grant, even if you had lost the field at Frederick, you accomplished the goal you set before us a month ago, the one mandated to you by the president. You destroyed Lee's army in the process. Even if you had abandoned the field, the combined commands of Hancock and Sykes would have cornered him.'
'Perhaps,' Grant said quietly.
He looked out the window.
'The cost. I never quite realized the cost. I think history will remember me now as 'the Butcher.''
'Grant, what is war but butchery?' Elihu replied sharply. 'Isn't that why you hated the army even as you served in Mexico? Isn't that why you quit? Any man who loves what he does too much, I would not give two cents for, nor would the president. The president just said to me a few days ago that a good general is like a good doctor facing a cancer or an amputation. He cuts because he has-to, not because he loves it. You need men under you like that young Sheridan, who get caught up in it, but the man who runs it all must balance things. You did so, and the survival of the Republic was in the balance.'
'I wish it could have been done with less cost,' he paused, 'to both sides.'
'If this war dragged on another year, how many more deaths? A hundred thousand, two hundred thousand? That's the other side of the equation the president asked me to convey to you. He anticipated what you might have to do to win. 'The cost up front might be high,' he said, 'but if the cost is high up front, let us pray it saves more lives in the long run.' I think, Grant, that is what you are accomplishing now.'
'If we still bag Lee.'
'What do you mean? He's lost his one pontoon bridge. This deluge will bring the creeks and rivers up. You have him cornered.' 'Too many generals claim they have their opponent cornered and wake up in the morning to find him gone.'
He looked out the window as another flash of lightning ripped the heavens.
'He can still run. He can still drag it out under cover of this storm, break up his army, and slip part of it across the river. If he does, this will still drag on.'
Elihu did not reply.
'I think I need to try and sleep, sir. You can have the bunk here, I'll take the one in the loft.'
Elihu did not argue with him. He could sense the melancholy, the burden Grant was carrying as he slowly climbed up the ladder and collapsed on the bed in the loft.
Elihu turned, and picking up a stick, he poked at the fire, unable to sleep.
Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia One Mile South ofMonocacy Church
10:00 P.M.
The small village of Beallsville was nothing more than a hamlet of a half dozen homes, a general store, and a small Episcopal church. Lee sat within the church alone, head bowed in prayer.
For once, given the violence of the storm, he had broken his rule and allowed his men to move into the houses, the sick and wounded to be brought into the church. The men were silent as he sat in the front pew.
He finished praying and stood up, then walked to the back of the church where a surgeon was at work. A Union soldier was on the table, leg shredded just below the knee, the boy looking up with pleading eyes at the doctor.
'It will be just fine, son,' the doctor whispered. 'Son, I have to take your leg off, but you still have your life. Think about your mother. Will it matter any less to her if you come home to her injured?' 'No, sir, I guess not.'
'Of course not. She'll greet you with open arms. Now go to sleep, son. You'll be just fine.'
The doctor nodded to his assistant, who placed a paper cone over the boy's face.
'Breathe deeply.'
'Hail Mary, full of grace…' the boy began to whisper, and then his voice drifted off. The doctor nodded to his other assistant who handed over a bloodied scalpel, and the doctor set to work. Lee turned away.
He heard a polite cough behind him and turned to see Walter in the doorway, illuminated by the flashes of lightning outside. Behind Walter was a gathering of officers, Longstreet, Stuart with head and arm bandaged, Jed Hotchkiss, several brigadiers, and Judah Benjamin.
'Sir,' Walter whispered, coming to Lee's side. 'These gentlemen wish to speak with you.'
'I assumed that,' Lee said.
Walter opened the door into the vestry and the men followed him in. Walter struck a match to light a lamp, then closed the door.
Lee sat down in the only chair, the others standing formally before him.
'Go on, gendemen. I thought our plan of march had already been laid out for tomorrow, but if you have a concern, please share it.'
They looked one to the other, and finally it was Jeb who stirred and stepped forward slowly.
'Sir, we have a request to lay before you.'
'I am always open to suggestions from my trusted officers,' Lee said. 'Please go ahead, General Stuart.'
'Sir, perhaps this storm is heaven-sent.'
'How so, General Stuart?'
'Sir, we are requesting that you break the army up tonight. Every man to head for the river by his own means. Under cover of this storm thousands might get across to the other side. Come tomorrow, we turn west and head into the mountains. From there, sir, we can dig in and play havoc with them for years.'
Lee said nothing, just stared at Jeb.
Longstreet stepped forward.
'I concur, sir. We might be able to get five to ten thousand across the river under cover of this storm.'
The others, all except Walter, nodded in agreement.
Lee lowered his head, and all were silent God, give me wisdom now, he silently prayed. Guide me in what I am about to do.
He continued to pray and at last the words came to him and he looked back up.
'The One Hundred Forty-third Psalm, gentlemen.' 'Sir?' Jeb asked.
' 'Teach me to do thy will, for thou art my God.'' No one responded.
'I was just meditating on that psalm before you gentlemen came to visit. When I first started to pray in this church my heart was drawn to the last stanza of that psalm, 'And of thy mercy cut off mine enemies, and destroy all them that afflict my soul for I am thy servant.''
Jeb nodded as Lee spoke.
'Did you see that Union boy being operated on when you came in?'
No one spoke.
'Is that my enemy?' he asked.
'He fights for our enemies,' Jeb replied.
'No, sir,' Lee said and now his voice was forceful. 'That boy is not my enemy anymore. If we have an enemy now, it is this war itself. It has swept us up into its dark soul. It has killed and crippled thousands like that boy out in the chapel who is being cut apart even as we speak. We have spent more than two years at this, tearing each other's hearts and souls out.'
He lowered his head for a moment and then raised it again.
