Never Call Retreat - Civil War 03 (9 page)

"Yes, in fair part. We have been ordered to hold Maryland and Baltimore, and I must not abandon such orders lightly. There is, as well, a logic to his orders to us. If we do indeed win the peace this fall, it is essential that Maryland be part of our new nation. It will force the Federals to abandon Washington as their capital, will insure that the Chesapeake Bay is controlled by us, and give us the one major industrial center in the South. We abandon that, we abandon a major position of stability after the war is over."

"Even if, in holding, we lose all, sir?"

"We will not lose," Lee said bluntly. "
General Longstreet, we will not
lose."

"Sir, if I might be so bold, please enlighten me about your thinking," Longstreet replied.

"Just this, General. I see no reason to assume that an encounter with Grant will go against us. Yes, he has caught us off guard for the moment, but such is war.

"You were not with me in May, when Hooker made his move up the Rappahannock. I will confess, in private, he did catch me completely off guard with the audacity of that move. We were outnumbered, before your arrival, nearly three to one. Whichever way I turned I would be flanked, and yet we did fight our way out of that, turned the tables, and won a stunning success, thanks be to God."

"The cost, though, sir—Jackson lost, nearly twenty thousand killed or wounded."

"Yes, I know, but success we did have."

"We've paid that price twice more over these last two months. Sir, we are running dry. Defeat Grant at a cost of twenty thousand and this army will be a burned-out shell of its former self."

"I see no reason to anticipate that price," Lee said sharply. He leaned over the table and swept his hand across the map. "Grant will come at us from one of two directions and we will know what it will be within forty-eight hours.

"If he advances en masse, along the railroad, we either go for maneuver to flank or we dig in, perhaps near Relay Station, just west of here, and let him try us in the type of battle you always seek, good defensive ground for them to bleed out on."

"His other choice?" Longstreet asked softly.

"He takes the broader strategic move. Goes down the

Cumberland Valley, takes Hagerstown and Harpers Ferry, then threatens to advance into Virginia or draw us westward into a fight along the South Mountain range."

"And your thoughts, sir?"

Lee sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Too early to tell. This is, after all, only the second day of maneuver for both of us. The path down the Cumberland, to gain proper position, will take him a week or more, and he knows it will give us the time that we need. The direct advance would mean a crisis in three to five days.

"I suspect that even if Grant is operating on his own initiative, Lincoln will still put his finger into his plans. After the humiliation with the Army of the Potomac, I believe Lincoln desperately needs some kind of victory as quickly as possible. He'll push for the direct assault."

"But will Grant agree to that, sir?"

"If Lincoln orders it, he has to, the same as I would have to if directly ordered by the president," Lee replied.

"One more sharp battle, another day like Union Mills, where we lured him into a fight on our ground, and we have him, and this nightmare is finished."

"One more day, sir?"

"Yes, that should do it."

Longstreet nodded.

'Then you agree with my position, Pete?" Lee asked. Longstreet forced a smile. "Sir, you command this army, and I follow orders." "But do you agree?"

"Sir, I've voiced my opinion," Longstreet replied. "But if you are confident of victory, then it is my job to help you in any way possible to achieve that."

"I will continue to weigh your suggestions, Pete," Lee replied, again using the more familiar first name. "Thank you. As I have said publicly many times these last seven weeks, your suggestion at Gettysburg that we abandon that field and go for a flanking march was the crucial element in . creating our victory at Union Mills."

"Thank you, sir. May I offer one further suggestion?"

"Certainly."

"Either way, the B and O line will be important to us. May I suggest we contract with them now to get it fully operational as far as Frederick and position some supplies, perhaps some troops and artillery there."

"It will be the first time this army has relied upon such means for direct movement on a tactical level."

"Actually, sir, it was crucial at First Manassas, and Beauregard is familiar with its uses at Corinth and also the transfer of his troops up here. It is something I believe we should have paid attention to earlier."

Lee nodded in agreement.

"You're right. We should have looked into the use of the B and O earlier. I'll ask Secretary Benjamin if he would be willing to go over to their offices."

"And one other thing, sir."

"Go on."

"Get the pontoon bridges ready. We have enough captured bridging to run a span across the Potomac. I think they should be loaded on to flat
cars and perhaps moved, preposi
tioned, over toward Frederick."

"Now? Move them now?"

"Yes, sir."

"General Longstreet, there is a chance that a sound-enough defeat of General Grant might afford us the opportunity to think aggressively, very aggressively, indeed. Perhaps even to span the Susquehanna in pursuit. We would need that bridging material shifted north instead of west."

"Sir, if we move the bridging material west to Frederick by rail, and Grant is indeed smashed, it will take but hours for us to return it to Baltimore."

"Why this insistence, General Longstreet?"

"Call it an ace up the sleeve, sir. If things should indeed go wrong, right now we are reliant on but several fords to disengage our army and pull back into Virginia. The pontoon bridges give us greater flexibility, and frankly, sir, I'd like us to have that extra ace."

Lee was silent for a moment.

"Sending them west, might that not give the wrong message to some, that we are preparing to evacuate?"

"If it does, so what, sir? Perhaps it might embolden Grant to move rashly and make a mistake. Either way, those pontoons are a nightmare to move. We all know that. It took Burnside weeks just to bring them up fifty miles last November and cost him the opportunity to get across the Rappahannock before we were into position. I urge you, sir, move them now."

Lee finally nodded in agreement.

"Who is in charge of them?"

"A Maj. Zachariah Cruickshank. He use to be in command of First Corps' supply train. After we captured the pontoons from the Yankees at Union Mills I transferred to him the responsibility for their movement."

'Transferred? Why?"

"Well, sir, he has a bit of a problem with the bottle. A profane man as well, but one of the best men for running wagons I ever saw. It's just he got a bit insubordinate with me a few times when drunk, and I felt it was best that we dista
nced ourselves for his good and
mine."

"Insubordinate to you?"

Longstreet smiled.

"I'd rather not repeat what he said, sir. But regardless of that, like I said, he's a man who can be relied on when it comes to moving wagons."

'Tell this profane major to go down to the rail yards, find the right people there, and prepare to load for a move to Frederick."

"Yes, sir."

"But do not misinterpret this caution, General Longstreet. I want all my generals to realize and to know in their hearts that I plan to seek out General Grant, meet him in the field, and in one sharp action defeat him as we have defeated all others who have come against us."

"Of course, sir," Longstreet said quietly.

CHAPTER FIVE

Baltimore and Ohio Rail Yard Baltimore

August 23 1:00 P.M.

Y
ou mick son of a bitch, come back here!" The yard boss turned, glaring at Maj. Zachariah Cruickshank, commander of the pontoon bridge train, Army of Northern Virginia, with a dark eye. Several of his fellow workers gathered around behind their boss, one of them hoisting a sledgehammer and swinging it one-handed. Cruickshank's men, a hard-bitten lot themselves, stepped closer to their major, one of them unclipping the flap on his revolver, another beginning to uncoil a bullwhip.

"Go ahead and shoot me," the yard boss snarled, "but I'll be damned if I'll take your ordering me around like some damn slave. This is my rail yard, not yours."

Cruickshank was tempted to do just that, shoot the son of a bitch. Not kill him, just blow a hole in his foot or arm to make the point. General Longstreet had ordered him to get the pontoon train loaded up, and by damn he had to do it. Now this dumb Irish Yankee was giving him back talk.

He looked around as more of the yard crew came over. Tough-looking men every one of them. Some were grinning, expecting the start of a donnybrook, and were picking up sledges, pickaxes, pieces of ballast.

"Most of 'em are goddamn Yankees," a sergeant standing
next to Cruickshank whispered. "Let's go at 'em and take this damn place. I can get your trains for you, sir."

The men around Cruickshank muttered agreement.

Kill some of those sons of bitches,
Cruickshank thought,
and it will be my ass hauled before Old Pete again, the threat of court-martial real this time.

Cru
I
ckshank wearily shook his head, reached into his haversack, and pulled out a half-empty bottle of whiskey and held it up.

"Let's you and me talk," Cruickshank said, glaring at the yard boss. It galled him that he had to be reduced to making this offer, but damn all, he had orders from Longstreet himself and had to see them through.

The yard boss looked at the bottle, then nodded his head, turned to his men, and yelled at them to go back to work. Cruickshank ordered his men to back off, walked over to the yard boss, and together they climbed into an empty boxcar and sat down.

The two sides, like two street gangs waiting to see if it would be work or fight, stood apart, watching as their chiefs negotiated. A gesture from either would mean a bloodbath.

Cruickshank handed over the bottle; the yard boss uncorked it and took a long pull.

"Good stuff," he gasped. "This town's been dry as a bone ever since you rebs came in and confiscated all the liquor."

"There's plenty more where that came from"—Zachariah hated to say the words but had to—"if you help me out."

The yard boss looked over at him and grinned.

"So, got you by the short hairs, reb. One minute I'm a son of a bitch and the next you're trying to bribe me."

"I got a barrel of Tennessee's finest if you can help me work things out."

"This is my yard, not yours. You don't come in here ordering me around, especially in front of my men. Damn you, even the boss calls me Mr. McDougal, not 'Hey, you.'"

"I understand. Listen, McDougal—"

"Mr. McDougal." Cruickshank sighed.

"All right then, Mr. McDougal. It's hot, I'm tired, and I got my orders."

"Listen, Major. I've had no word from the office about this. You just come wandering in here and demand four engines and forty flatcars. You have to be joking."

"I'm not."

"And I expect an apology for that son-of-a-bitch comment, you son of a bitch."

Cruickshank swallowed hard. Anyone else, at this moment, he'd have dropped him with one good punch.

"All right, one son of a bitch to another, does that satisfy you?"

"Barely," the boss said, taking another drink. He all but drained the bottle and tossed it out on the ground, where it shattered, then looked over expectantly at Cruickshank. Cruickshank motioned to one of his sergeants, who reluctantly came over, opened his haversack, and pulled out another.

For the first time, McDougal smiled, uncorked it, took another drink, then passed it back to Cruickshank, who took a long one as well.

Outside the boxcar this was read as a signal that things were simmering down. A few of his men, as Cruickshank had hoped, took out bottles and passed them to the work crew facing them.

"Let me guess," Cruickshank asked, "you're a Union man, aren't you?"

"And if I admit to that, do I get arrested?"

"No. We're not like Lincoln, who's arrested thousands."

"Well, before you and your men came and took over Baltimore, we had business here. Good pay. I've let go of nearly all my crews. Men of mine are starving, thanks to you."

"I don't see any colored around here," Cruickshank said.

The yard boss laughed.

"With you graybacks coming? Every last one took off,

most likely working the yards up in Wilmington or Philadelphia now. I lost some good men, thanks to you."

"I could say the same thing," Cruickshank replied. "Look, you and I are stuck in the middle of all this. I drove wagons before the war; you put together trains. I've got orders, and I'm told you'll get orders, too. Our civilian boss, Mr. Benjamin, is supposed to be meeting with your boss right now to set up the contracts, but I was told to get over here right now and start things moving. So either we work together, or I'll shoot you here and now, say you attacked me, then get my men to take over."