'Here it comes!' someone shouted.
Hazner turned and saw the head of a column coming up the road. At the same moment the regiment they'd been facing across the orchard stood up and came out into the open, advancing at the double.
'Take aim straight ahead, boys,' Brown shouted.
Hazner agreed. To hell with the column. It was the men they were facing they had to worry about.
'Fire!'
A ragged volley swept the orchard, dropping another dozen, but this time the Yankees did not slow; they just kept on coming.
'Fall back, men, stay with me!'
The Fourteenth moved woodenly at first. After the long march, the bitter fight, they were exhausted. Behind them the Yankees, sensing the breaking of their opponents, let out a cheer, and seconds later a volley ripped through the woods, the Fourteenth losing a half dozen more.
Hazner reached the crest of the ridge. Along the road to his right he could see where troops were falling back, cavairy mounting up, infantry pushing around them. A thunderous fire erupted from the road, a sharp volley sent into the advancing column, and then those men turned and started to run.
Over the crest, Hazner, falling in by Brown's side, started down the slope. It was steep and he ran like a drunken man, nearly tumbling over, men around him cursing, panting, some tangling up in the brush and falling, getting up again.
Behind them he could hear taunting yells. Looking back, he saw where the Yankees had gained the ridge. Some were pushing on, others stopping to reload.
Ahead and below the town of Frederick was two miles off. Beyond, he could see smoke cloaking the river valley and a distant column of troops moving along the National Road.
Brown staggered and tripped, cursing as he hit the ground. Hazner pulled him up, the colonel's hands badly skinned from the tumble.
'Come on, sir,' Hazner cried, 'but by damn, there better be a good reason for this.'
Braddock Heights
3:50 P.M.
'McPherson!'
James was atop the crest, glasses raised, studying the ground ahead. A half mile downslope he could see where the rebels were swarming along the road and fields, heading back toward Frederick. Beyond the river he could already spot another column coming up.
Grant came to his side, grinning.
'Good work, McPherson.'
'Cost us,' James said quietly. 'We fought entire battles out west and lost fewer men than I just did taking this ridge.'
'It's only started,' Grant replied coolly. 'Are you pressing them?'
'My boys are exhausted, sir. I've double-timed them for miles, threw them into this fight. They need a few minutes at least. We got the good ground now. Isn't that what we wanted?'
Grant was silent for a moment, field glasses raised, studying the terrain ahead.
'That bridge is out of artillery range from up here. We give Lee time, he just might get it back up again. Besides, if we sit up here, he will not come at us.'
McPherson looked over at him.
'We just had a meeting engagement up here, both sides equally tired. If we dig in here tonight, what will Lee do tomorrow? Attack?'
McPherson found he had to agree.
'No, sir, of course not.'
'I want him to fight us. We've got to grab hold of him and stay in contact. I don't want him to have time to think, to maneuver, to repair that bridge, to think about the Potomac River at all. We give him good bait, though, and he'll bite it and then hang on to us the way I want.'
'And that means my corps, sir, doesn't it?'
Grant grabbed him by the forearm.
'You know what to do. But you, personally, don't go doing anything foolish. Push down there and grab hold of Lee. I'm setting up here for the moment. Give your boys twenty minutes to catch their breath, try and find some water, then send them in. I want that town and the river beyond.'
McPherson knew without even having to ask what Grant was ordering him to do. To stick his corps out forward and let Lee bite into them. He thought of all the quiet afternoons he had spent with Lee at West Point, the admiration he had always held for him. He wondered if Lee knew whose corps this was that was about to come down to meet him. It was going to be one hell of a bloody mess this day.
McPherson saluted and rode off.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Frederick, MD
4:15 P.M.
Good heavens, sir, they're coming down.' Lee said nothing, sitting astride Traveler at the edge of the city, looking up at the Catoctin Heights. Yes, indeed, McPherson was coming down, battle lines deployed out a quarter mile to either side of the National Road. Flags flying, regiments came down the steep slope, skirmishers to the fore. It was a grand sight. All about him stopped to look. The battle line was studded with national flags and state flags, and he found a swelling of admiration within himself. His star student from the West Point days was doing a remarkable job. Despite himself, he was proud of him as a mentor might be of a cherished younger person.
A half-mile front, late afternoon sun behind them, bayonets flashing, disciplined in their advance even on such difficult ground.
'Half a league, half a league, half a league onward,' Walter whispered.
Lee nodded in agreement. These were brave men indeed. Brave and foolish. They had taken the bait. McPherson has courage but he is going to give us an opportunity to defeat him in isolation before Grant can arrive.
'Walter, tell Robertson he must come up. Scales is to hold the town as we talked about. We'll fight them street by street if need be. I want their entire corps pulled into this fight.'
'Yes, sir!' Walter galloped off.
Lee turned about and rode into the center of town, General Scales by his side. Regiments were still forming up after their retreat off of the ridge; men gathered around wells, filling canteens; wounded being carried into churches and homes; citizens standing silent, watching, looking up at the heights, worrying that their homes would be destroyed if Frederick became a battlefield.
'General Scales, get your provost guards out and order these civilians into their basements. There's going to be a fight here, and I wish to avoid injury to them.'
'Yes, sir. So we hold the town, sir?'
'I want to pull McPherson in here. Yes, you will hold the town. Grant has done what I hoped. If he had sat up on those heights, he could have waited for days, concentrated, or perhaps even shielded us from a maneuver down into the northern Shenandoah. Now he will be forced to come on in support of McPherson. We have an opportunity to defeat his army in detail, one corps at a time.'
Lee looked to the east.
'Robertson should be up in a few hours by train and will roll in from the north and smash, McPherson. If Grant is so impetuous, he'll then funnel more men in and we will smash them in turn. By this time tomorrow the rest of our army will be concentrated here, but we will have taken out a quarter, perhaps a half of his army. Then he shall
