Stars & Stripes Forever (26 page)

"Mr. President, I bring you a message from Mr. Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederacy."

Lincoln's expression was under control now and he just nodded, lips pursed with silent attention as Lee went on. He did not recognize the legitimacy of Jefferson Davis's title, but saw no reason to mention that now.

"If you would permit it, Mr. Lincoln, due to the confidential nature of my communication, I would like to be able to deliver it to you in private."

There was a troubled murmur from the listening men and Lincoln held his hand up until the room was silent again.

"Gentlemen," he said sternly. "I am going to honor this request. I am sure that the Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate armies is an honorable man and means me no physical harm."

"That is indeed correct, Mr. Lincoln. And I will leave my sword with my staff as some indication of my good will." He did just that, taking the scabbarded sword from its slings and passing it over to the nearest Southern officer.

The onlookers hesitated, but then stepped back when Lincoln turned toward the door. They opened a path and made way for the tall form of the President and the stern, upright figure of the general. The two men proceeded slowly from the room and up the grand staircase, if not arm in arm at least shoulder-to-shoulder. They passed the wide-eyed clerk at his desk and entered Lincoln's office. Lincoln closed the door and spoke.

"If you would be so kind as to be seated, General Lee. I am sure that it has been a tiring journey."

"Thank you, sir."

If it had been tiring Lee did not show it. He took off his gray field hat and placed it on an end table, then sat upright on the first few inches of his chair as Lincoln dropped into his.

"Your message, if you please, General Lee."

"Might I ask first, sir, if you have you had any word of the recent events in Biloxi, Mississippi?"

"None whatsoever."

"If you will excuse me, Mr. Lincoln, I don't mean to pry into your military matters, but this matter is most relevant to the Biloxi situation. In relation to this, excuse me for asking, but have you had a communication from your General Sherman?"

Lincoln pondered this one. Should he reveal Northern military matters to this most competent of Southern generals? Of course. This matter was infinitesimal compared to the presence of Lee in the White House. This was a time for honesty.

"A garbled and incomplete one that we could not understand. Do you know anything about that?"

"I do indeed, sir, and that is why I am here. Let me apprise you of the facts. As your country has been attacked by the British by land to the north, so has the Confederacy been invaded by sea from the south."

"You what...?"

"A British invasion, Mr. Lincoln, sudden and severe and without any warning. It destroyed the battery and the defenses before Biloxi. Our men fought bravely but were outnumbered and many fell. Worse, sir, was the fact that the enemy pursued the soldiers into the town of Biloxi which they then burnt and destroyed. Not satisfied with wanton destruction these animals—I cannot describe creatures such as these as soldiers—also wreaked indescribable violation to the female population of that city."

The President fought to conceal his bafflement at this new development. He could only listen.

"Do you know, for—what reason did they do this?"

"We do not know why they did this, but we do know that this was done. Without declaration of war they have invaded our land, killed and raped and looted. Before the city was burnt the defenders did manage to telegraph what was happening. President Davis contacted General Beauregard in northern Mississippi, his troops were the ones that were closest to the invasion. Beauregard was ordered south, to proceed at once to face the British invaders. It is my understanding that General Beauregard requested a cease-fire from General Sherman so he could do battle with what he refers to as 'the natural enemy of both our countries.' "

"Then that was the message from Sherman. He must have granted the cease-fire."

"He did, and he did even more Mr. Lincoln." Lee hesitated for a moment, realizing the grave import of the words he spoke next. "He must have felt that this invasion was an invasion of our country, irrespective of North or South. For he did a very noble and courageous thing. Not only did he grant the cease-fire—but he took a regiment of his Northern troops south with Beauregard's division. They went by train and succeeded in outflanking the invading troops. The final communication said that they had attacked and defeated the British. Battling in unison. Johnny Reb and Yankee troops—side by side."

Lincoln's thoughts raced, trying to take in all of the implications at once. General Sherman had made a bold decision and an even bolder move. He had done it on his own without consulting his superiors. Would he have agreed if Sherman had asked his permission? Or would he have hesitated to make such a drastic and possibly far-reaching decision? He just did not know. Perhaps it was no accident that the telegram was garbled. Once Sherman had decided to act he would certainly know that there could be no turning back. Well, that was all water under the bridge now. But what could be made of this epic decision and most important victory? It was too soon to decide; he needed to know more about the situation. Lincoln looked shrewdly at the Confederate general.

"I gather that this information is not the message from Mr. Davis—but facts that I had to know first, in order to assess the message that he has sent."

"That is correct, sir. President Davis ordered me first to tell you about the conjoined battle against our British enemy, then to convey his heartfelt thanks for this greatly appreciated assistance. He formally asks if you would agree to a cease-fire on all fronts to begin as soon as is possible. When the ceasefire is operational it will enable President Davis and you to meet and discuss the portent of all that has happened."

Lincoln sat back and sighed a deep sigh—not realizing until that moment that he had inadvertently been holding his breath. When the import of the words sank home he was possessed of a feeling of elation, stronger than any he had ever experienced before. He could not sit still but sprang to his feet and paced the room. Turned and seized the lapels of his jacket to conceal the trembling of his hands, fought to keep his voice firm when he spoke.

"General Lee—I cannot begin to impart to you the strong emotions that possess me at this moment, the newly-kindled hope that, at least to some degree, the killing and slaughter of this terrible war may stop. I have said countless times, in public and in private, that I would do anything, go anywhere, take whatever action was needed to stop this war. You must convey the word to Mr. Davis that the truce is to begin at once, as soon as all of our armed forces have been informed."

"The President suggested that the truce begin at midnight tonight, since our troops must be notified as well."

"Agreed, General, heartily agreed. Then—to equally practical matters. Did Mr. Davis have any suggestion as to where our meeting might take place?"

General Ulysses S. Grant hated any delay, no matter how short. But the locomotive's water tank was almost empty and they needed to take on coal as well. The cars rattled over the switch points into the siding on the southern outskirts of Ticonderoga, New York. The city itself was obscured by an immense pall of smoke; gunfire rumbled in the distance. Grant climbed down from the car just behind the engine and lit a cigar. He would have liked a drink of whiskey as well but he knew better.

"Send a runner up to the telegraph office in the station," he told an aide. "There may be another message from General Halleck. You can let the troops down for a stretch—but tell them that they can't stray more than fifty yards from the train."

It had been a half a day since there had been word about the invasion and the enemy to the north. After defeating the Plattsburgh defenders the British Army had moved south into the HudsonValley. They had paused just long enough to burn Port Henry then had continued their advance south. Halleck had telegraphed that his militia and volunteer regiments were going to make a stand at FortTiconderoga. That was the last that they had heard. Two more trains, filled with troops from the west, were an hour behind this first one—and hopefully more to come. Grant knew that he had to get these reinforcements to Halleck without delay.

A train whistle moaned up the line to the north and in a moment an engine chuffed into view. An engine with a single boxcar attached. It slowed as it approached the troop train and Grant saw the uniform of an army officer in the cab. As the engine braked and squealed to a stop the officer swung down to the ground. Clumsily because his bandaged right arm was in a sling. As the wounded man hurried toward the group of officers Grant could see, through the open door of the boxcar, that it was filled with wounded soldiers. The bandaged lieutenant stopped in front of Grant and half-saluted with his left hand.

"General..." he said, then stopped. He was filthy and bloodstained, his eyes were wild, his hand shaking slightly. Grant spoke quietly, kindly.

"What is your outfit, Lieutenant?"

"14th New York, sir."

"You were with General Halleck's forces?" The wounded man nodded dumbly. "I want you to tell me about the battle."

Some of the fear left the man's eyes and he pulled himself up. "Yes, sir. We took up defensive positions centered on FortTiconderoga. Scouts said that the enemy were coming on in force. They hit us just after we had dug in. I got a ball through the arm right off. First there was the cannon, a real barrage. After that they came at us in lines, firing as they attacked. Too many of them, too many. Don't know how long we held out, didn't see it myself. He told me, Major Green, told me to get the wounded into the train. He died. Then everything seemed to fall apart at once, soldiers running, redbacks chasing and killing..." He swayed, then regained control. "We loaded some wounded, no time, the trainmen only hooked up the one car. They broke us, the major said, soldiers running in all directions. I saw them." He closed his eyes, almost fell. Grant's aide reached out and steadied him. His eyes opened and he spoke, whispering, scarcely aware of the group of officers before him.

"Major Green told me. The general, General Halleck. He saw him die in the attack... then the major died too."

"Board the men," Grant ordered. "If there is no doctor with the wounded in that boxcar, see that one is found for them. With medical supplies. Let's go."

Grant was already staring at the map when the others boarded. He looked around at his officers, then tapped the map with a thick finger.

"Here," he said. "Here is where we make the stand—and stop them. Stopped them there once before. Saratoga. Good defensive country. But we are going to have to block them and hold them with just what we have. Reinforcements will be on the way, but we don't know when they will arrive." He puffed furiously on the cigar.

"We hold, do you understand that? We are falling back now because we have no choice. But this is the last time. We will make a stand. After that we do not give way and we do not retreat. The only way they are going to advance is over our dead bodies."

The whistle sounded and they swayed as the train clanked into motion and began to pick up speed.

In reverse. Back down the track. Grant hated this, hated to retreat but had no choice.

But this was going to be the last time.

THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN

"I don't think that we are going to need all of the cavalry now," Lincoln said, looking down from the window at the mounted soldiers clattering up the drive to the White House, dark silhouettes against the rising sun. "Not in the light of the most astounding recent developments."

"I spoke almost those very words to the major in charge," Hay said as he packed his ledgers into the carpet bag. "He was most firm in response—until he has orders to the contrary, he said—when you go out of this building you are to be surrounded by his troopers at all times. That assassin came close enough to put a bullet through your hat last month when you were out strolling by yourself. There are still a lot of people out there with a grudge against Old Abe."

"Well, I imagine that you are right. Have we been able to contact General Sherman yet?"

"We have indeed," Nicolay said. "Since we connected our telegraph wires to the Confederates' telegraph system at Yorktown we have opened a whole new world of communication. General Sherman has already been picked up by the U. S. S.
Itasca
at Biloxi and is on his way to the meeting. There was some concern at first when our ship approached the harbor—particularly when a cannon was fired. But it was only a salute since they were the first to know that our troops helped to revenge their destruction. In fact it was hours before they could get away from the reception for Sherman."

"A relief to hear. So the ceasefire is more than holding. Now then, let us away as well before Seward or Cameron get wind of our early departure."

"Perhaps the Secretary of State..." Nicolay said hesitantly; the President interrupted.

"My mind is made up, Nico, you know that. If Jefferson Davis and I cannot work out an agreement between ourselves, no passel of politicians is going to be of any help. Do you realize what an opportunity has befallen us?"

"I can think of nothing else, sir, and didn't sleep a wink last night."

"Nor I, my boy, nor I. Have there been any more reports about the ceasefire?"

"Went into effect at midnight. There have been a few accounts of sporadic shooting on both sides, from troops who hadn't received the word. But all that has died away now."

"Excellent. So we shall see if a little yachting voyage might relax and refreshen us."

The President led the way out of the office, with his heavily-laden secretaries following. The White House was silent, everyone asleep except the soldiers on guard. Lincoln mounted his horse while his secretaries put their bags into the carriage. Despite being six feet, four inches, most of the President's height was due to his long legs. Now in the saddle he was surrounded by a solid wall of human flesh and invisible among the massed troopers. They trotted steadily out onto