Love and War

likable officer and brave enough. But a soldier without the stamp of brilliance that was now on Tom Jackson, for example. The last George had heard, Grant had failed in the army out West and resigned because of problems with drinking.

Now here he was, just promoted from brigadier to major general of volunteers and nicknamed 'Unconditional Surrender' because, when answering a request for terms from Donelson's commander, he said he would accept nothing less. I propose to move immediately upon your works, he wrote Buckner — and then he did it, breaking the Confederacy's hold on western Kentucky, western Tennessee, and the upper Mississippi. The South reeled, the North rejoiced, and Grant's name became known to every schoolboy whose parents read a paper.

Offsetting this, bad rumors continued to seep from the Executive Mansion. The President suffered from depression so profound some said it bordered on insanity. He roamed sleeplessly at night or lay motionless for hours, to rise and tell of queer prophetic dreams. The Washington gossip chefs, whom Constance said must be nearly as many as the uniformed men in town, had a variety of tidbits to offer, something for every political or emotional palate. Lincoln was going mad on behalf of the Union. Mary Lincoln, who acknowledged a lot of rebel relatives in Kentucky and the Confederate Army, was a spy. Twelve-year-old Willie Lincoln was fighting typhoid. That turned out to be true; the boy died two days before McClellan was to take Manassas.

McClellan did not; the army stayed put. And Lincoln did not show up at any of the official observances of Washington's birth­day, although the armies on both sides celebrated the holiday, as was the custom before the war.

Billy paid a surprise visit one night. The brothers fell to exchanging complaints over whiskey before supper.

Billy: 'What the devil's wrong with Mac? He was supposed to save the Union — week before last, wasn't it?'

George: 'How should I know what's wrong? I'm nothing but a glorified clerk. All I hear is street talk. You should know more than I; he's your commander.'

'He's your classmate.'

'What a sarcasm. You sound like a Republican.'

'Staunch.'

'Well,' George said, 'all I hear is this. Little Mac outnumbers the enemy two or three to one, yet he keeps asking for postponements and reinforcements. Otherwise, he says, he can't be certain of success — which, he then repeats in the next breath, is guaranteed once he does move. God knows what goes on inside his head. Tell me about your new men.'

'They've had nearly seven weeks of training, but of course good work in training is no yardstick of performance in a fight. Last week the battalion built a big floating raft on the canal — the next best thing to a pontoon bridge, which we've yet to try. The President came down to watch. He did his best to show interest in the work, but looked worn out. Positively ancient. He —'

Both looked up as Constance came in, pale.

'There's an orderly from your battalion at the door.'

Billy rushed from the room. George paced, trying to overhear the muted voices. His brother returned, settling his cap on his head. 'We're ordered to camp to prepare for departure on the cars.'

'Where are you going?'

'I don't know.'

They embraced hastily. 'Take care of yourself, Billy.'

'I will. Maybe Mac's finally moving.'

And out Billy went into the dark.

51

Charles knew it meant trouble when Calbraith Butler summoned him after tattoo and he found the colonel as well as the major waiting.

'Please sit if you wish, Charles,' Hampton said after Charles presented himself formally. He found Hampton's sober tone ominous.

'No, thank you, sir.'

Hampton continued. 'I rode here because I wanted to speak to you personally. I am faced with a thorny situation in Major Butler's command.'

Butler said, 'Sir, I prefer the word nasty.'

Hampton sighed. 'I'll not deny the rightness of that.'

Charles marveled at how fit the colonel looked in a winter that was ruining the health of much younger men. He noticed the colonel's sword — slimmer, not the one he usually wore. Could it be the one Joe Johnston had given him in token of friendship —  and until the rank of brigadier could be offered in fact?

'There is no point wasting words, Charles. Major Butler is in receipt of a petition from members of your troop. They request a new election of officers.'

His cheeks numbed suddenly. Once aware of the electioneering, he had tried to monitor it discreetly. Von Helm wanted the captaincy and had promised Julius Wanderly a promotion if he got it. Peterkin Reynolds remained deferential to Charles but had grown less friendly. Was he to be raised to second lieutenant?

'Signed by how many men, sir?' Charles asked.

Embarrassed, Butler said, 'Over half the troop.'

'God above.' Charles managed a laugh. 'I knew I wasn't well liked, but that downright makes me sound like a Yankee. I had no idea —'

'You are an exceptionally good officer —' Hampton began.

'I agree,' Butler said.

'— but that isn't the same as being a popular one. As you know, Charles, the men are not entitled to hold new elections until their one-year enlistments come up for renewal. However, I thought I should advise you of how matters stood and ask —'

This time he interrupted Hampton. 'Let them go ahead. Tomorrow — I don't care.' He did but hid it, standing rigidly straight.

Frowning, Butler asked, 'But what if you lose?'

'Begging the major's pardon—why do you state it that way? You know I'll lose. The number of signatures on the petition guarantees it. I still say let them hold the election. I'll find some other way to serve.'

The senior officers exchanged looks. Charles realized this had been planned with some care, and not solely to administer bad medicine.

Hampton spoke quietly: 'I appreciate the spirit in which you said that, Charles. I appreciate all the qualities that make you a fine officer. Your bravery is beyond dispute. You have a father's concern for your men. I suspect it's your discipline that precipitated this, since so many in the legion still fancy themselves Carolina gentlemen, rather than soldiers awaiting the sanguinary pleasure of General McClellan. Also, your Academy training may have worked against you.'

It hadn't worked against Stuart or Jackson or a score of others, Charles reflected with bitterness. But it was stupid to blame anyone else for his own shortcomings.

Hampton's voice rose emphatically. 'I do not want you lost to this command. Nor does Major Butler. Therefore, if you don't care to campaign against your, ah, opponent —'

'I wouldn't waste a minute on that stupid Dutchman!' Charles caught his breath. 'I'm sorry, sir.' Hampton waved the apology aside.

'We have another arrangement to propose,' Butler said. 'You're a loner, Charles, but that can be valuable. Would you consider leading Abner Woolner and a few more of my best men in a squad of scouts?'

Hampton leaned forward, half his face in darkness. 'It's the most necessary and most dangerous of all mounted duty. A scout is constantly at hazard. Only the best can handle the job.'