The Last Full Measure (4 page)

“He’s there now, then,” Longstreet said. “We feared that he had been hanged or shot already.”

“They said,” Chamberlain replied, “the judges at the tribunal that is, that they did not want Lincoln to be a martyr. They wanted to keep him in prison indefinitely.”

Longstreet stared at the lamp again. “They might succeed in that. Fortress Monroe. Helluva strong place.”

“Damned helluva strong place,” Hancock agreed.

“You need Lincoln?” Mosby asked.

“We do,” Longstreet said. “He’s not a handsome man, but he’s an honest one. No offense, Win, but it is far easier to find handsome men than honest ones. Lincoln can unite the people behind us. The people up north anyway. I don’t know about the south.”

“Yes, you do,” Armistead commented. “The ones running the federal government have long made cause with the slave-holding aristocracy in the south. Neither of them want anything to change, neither want a free country with open democracy, and a permanent state of military emergency suits the slave-holders just fine. They will try to convince the people of the south to back the federal government, and many will believe them and fight for them for fear of revolution and lawlessness.”

“If I had that many slaves in my backyard, I would fear lawlessness more than tyranny, too,” Hancock said. “Lo, we’re also talking about Virginia here.”

“I know it, Win.” Armistead glared at the floor. “But it would not be Virginia I would be fighting. It would be the federal government run by the mighty and the wealthy, and the ones in Virginia willing to continue running that government as a tyranny that keeps Virginia and all other states in bondage. To free Virginia, I must fight.”

Mosby nodded. “There is truth in that, sir. Who here knows much about Fortress Monroe?”

Hancock and Armistead both stood, then each deferred mockingly to the other before they jointly bent over the table and sketched out a diagram. Chamberlain craned to look, seeing a rough hexagon with six irregularly spaced arrow-shaped fortifications projecting from its sides. “As James said,” Armistead explained, “Fort Monroe is a mighty fortification of modern design. The walls are high and thick, this moat around the walls is deep and wide, and there are only three narrow causeways into the fort, at roughly these locations. It would require an army to besiege and take that fortress, and the Navy warships in Hampton Roads would use their artillery to support the fort as well.”

“Who’s in command there now?” Mosby asked.

“Colonel Lee, who also helped design the final fortifications a decade ago.”

Longstreet grimaced. “Bobbie Lee is no fool. He’s a skilled professional, doubtless assigned to command the fortress because all of the political factions in Washington know he favors none and can be trusted to keep imprisoned all sent to him.”

“How many men does he have?”

Armistead answered again. “A regiment, supposedly, but it was always understrength, carrying only five companies on its rolls. About six months ago the regiment was ordered to send two of those companies to the Army of the West. Replacements were promised, but all here know how rarely those actually appear with the army fighting on two fronts as well as dealing with all of the volunteers such as us. If I were a betting man, I would wager that Lee still only has three companies remaining to man the fort.”

“That is thin, but it’s plenty enough to keep us out.” Mosby frowned in thought. “Everyone knows that Fortress Monroe is invincible. That’s a weakness. Overconfidence and surety are deadly conceits.” Mosby looked around. “But how would we overcome the fort’s defenses?”

“With what we have? It could not be done, not in a fair fight,” Armistead declared.

Mosby smiled. “I fight to win, sir.”

“Good enough, but the walls and the moat remain.”

An idea popped into Chamberlain’s head as he thought of getting through walls which could not be breached. “A Trojan horse?”

Everyone looked at him, then Mosby nodded. “A subterfuge can get us through walls which are proof against any artillery we could bring to bear. But what subterfuge? What could get into that fort?”

After a moment’s thought, Hancock grinned. “A regular cavalry force, sent south to hunt that traitor Mosby and his evil compatriots. Arriving in the dead of night with forged orders. We’ve got enough uniforms for men and regulation tack for horses to put together almost a full company that will look official in the dark. Once we were inside, with most of the garrison asleep, we could gain control of the fort long enough to free the prisoners, including Lincoln.”

There was silence as everyone considered the idea, then Longstreet shook his head gloomily. “Even if you arrive in the middle of the night, Bobbie Lee will have left standing orders to awaken him in such an event. He’ll come to see you and your orders, and he knows everyone here. Once he recognizes one of us, the game will be over, and no enlisted trooper can play an officer convincingly enough to fool Bobbie Lee.”

“He doesn’t know me,” Mosby replied. “That gives us one officer.”

“Two,” Chamberlain heard himself saying. “He doesn’t know me, either.”

Once again he became the center of attention, then Armistead smiled. “You would be willing to participate in this operation, Professor Chamberlain?”

“Yes.” Chamberlain swallowed nervously, then nodded. “It’s important. I will do what I can.”

Hancock frowned appraisingly at Chamberlain. “You’ve got the right bearing and style of speaking to play an officer. Can you, though?”

“I’ve taken on roles, sir, in speeches. This would be another role.”

“A role which might cost you your life, sir, and one upon which the lives of many others will depend.”

“I will do what I can as best I can,” Chamberlain repeated. “I can do no less than the rest of you.”

Mosby nodded. “Your spirit is right for the role. Our West Pointers will teach you the exact ways to act and the language you must use. We will attempt this, gentlemen. I tire of fighting on the margins, pricking the hide of the enemy but causing no real damage. The cause of freedom requires that we run greater risks and strike greater blows.” He stood up, pointing to the diagram of Fort Monroe. “Captain Longstreet says we must get Lincoln back to Illinois as soon as we can. Tomorrow we will start assembling our force of counterfeit government cavalry and moving toward Norfolk. With luck, we will strike Fortress Monroe within a week’s time.”

He raised his glass. “To victory, gentlemen.”

The others raised their glasses as well, Longstreet adding a gruff addendum. “Or death.”

Hancock smiled again before downing his drink. “Or both victory and death, damn it! Welcome to the cause, professor.”

Six days later, Chamberlain rode a horse through the night’s darkness toward one of the causeways leading into Fort Monroe. He wore the uniform of a captain in the regular army cavalry, a pistol holstered on one hip and a regulation saber in a scabbard on the other. The unfamiliar weight of the weapons made him less uncomfortable than the fact that he was riding at the head of the column pretending to be a company of regular cavalry. Mosby had decided that, given the chance Lee might recognize him from drawings on wanted posters, it would be better for someone totally unknown to Lee to pose as the commanding officer of the cavalry. Mosby was riding several files behind him now, close enough to intervene if things started to fall apart, but Chamberlain still felt alone as the northernmost gate to the fort loomed ever closer.

They had already made it through two checkpoints tonight on the road to the fort, the sentries at both places waving through the column without a hint of suspicion. But the fort itself would be a more challenging encounter, so Chamberlain did his best to fall into the role of an officer who had recently been awarded his rank for political achievements. Any errors he made should be attributed to his inexperience by the regular soldiers in the fort.

Two sentries stood forth as the mounted column neared the gate, one of them calling out a challenge. Chamberlain raised one hand as he had been taught by Buford. “Column halt!” As he reined in his own mount and the rest of the cavalry clattered to a stop behind him, Chamberlain answered the challenge, his voice clear and confident in the quiet of the night. “Third Company, Tenth Cavalry, Captain Green commanding, here on orders from the War Department.”

The sergeant in charge of the sentries came close to look at Chamberlain in the light of a lantern the sergeant held high. After a brief examination, the sergeant saluted. “Good evening, sir. I’ll have to call the officer in charge of the watch. We didn’t receive any word that you were coming.”

“That’s because it was a secret movement, sergeant,” Chamberlain declared with self-important superiority. “Fetch your officer.”

Waiting was doubly hard because he had to appear self-assured despite his fears. But it was only a few minutes before a lieutenant came hastening out of the gate and saluted Chamberlain. “Lieutenant Walker, Captain of the Guard, sir. May I see your orders, sir?”

Chamberlain returned the salute with the hint of casualness that Hancock had drilled him on, offering the orders which Mosby’s forgers had crafted. “It’s late, lieutenant,” he prodded.

“Yes, sir. I’m certain the captain will understand that I have to proceed according to the fort commander’s standing orders, sir.” The lieutenant read the orders carefully, then examined the column behind Chamberlain as best he could in the dark. “Are there civilians back there, sir?”

“A few prisoners,” Chamberlain explained as if bored.

“Welcome to Fort Monroe, sir. Your men may enter, though I request they dismount and lead their horses. I will notify Colonel Lee of your arrival.”

Longstreet had been right about that. “There’s no need to disturb the colonel’s sleep on our account,” Chamberlain suggested.

“Thank you, sir, but I am required to notify him. Please rest your command in the courtyard inside the gate while I inform Colonel Lee and he provides direction for your billeting and the disposal of your prisoners.”

As the lieutenant strode quickly away, Chamberlain turned to face his column. “Dismount! Follow in a column of threes!” If he hadn’t been so nervous, this military officer’s role would have been a pleasurable thing.

Chamberlain led the way into the fort, noticing as they passed through the gate just how thick were the walls to either side of it. As Armistead had said, this was a fortress which could have held out as long as Troy. But like Troy, its guardians were allowing a disguised enemy to breach those walls.

“My men need to water their mounts,” Chamberlain insisted to the guard sergeant once all of the supposed cavalry force was inside the fort. Mosby had assumed they might need an excuse to get some of the false cavalrymen out of sight of the gate sentries.

The sergeant looked around, but there was no officer here to back him up, and Chamberlain’s request was perfectly reasonable. He nodded. “You can send them a few at a time to the troughs, sir.”

Chamberlain faced his column, his eyes searching for Mosby. “Lieutenant, we’re to wait for Colonel Lee. Send the men in small groups to water their mounts.”

They waited under the starlight, the men silent but the horses stamping and blowing occasionally. Mosby told off detachments to go water their horses, and none of the sentries noticed that in each group fewer men came back each time than had gone out. Chamberlain had to fight down a powerful urge to scan the darkness for those men, whom he knew would be moving stealthily to surprise the sentries on the walls and ensure there were no sentries at the other two gates which should be sealed for the night.

Finally, Chamberlain saw the lieutenant returning with another officer. In the light of the lieutenant’s lantern, Chamberlain could see that Colonel Robert E. Lee was an older and courtly man, reminiscent of Captain Armistead but more elderly. His neatly trimmed hair and beard were a gray that stood out against Lee’s dark blue uniform. Even if Chamberlain hadn’t known that Lee was the product of generations of Southern aristocracy he would have guessed it from the man’s appearance and attitude of unquestioned superiority. From all he had been told Lee had the brains and skills to justify that attitude, but it bothered Chamberlain to realize that Lee would have acted the same even if he had no claim but ancestry to authority. For the first time, Chamberlain realized that aristocracy wasn’t simply a broad comparison, but a literally true description of how the upper class in the south saw themselves.

Distracted by these thoughts, Chamberlain barely remembered to salute first as Lee approached. Lee returned the salute slowly and precisely, turning to view the column of soldiers. “Tenth Cavalry? I was not told you were coming here, Captain Green.”

“The War Department knows that Mosby’s men intercept telegraphic messages, sir,” Chamberlain explained. “We wished to surprise him and his bandits.”

“It appears you did so,” Lee agreed. He eyed Chamberlain. “I’m not familiar with your record, Captain Green.”

Chamberlain puffed himself up in imitation of a self-important politician. “My commission is fairly recent, based upon my performance in the last presidential selection.”

“I see.” Lee’s tone, only formal to this point, dropped several degrees toward freezing, but that was fine. The less he thought of Chamberlain’s Captain Green persona the less he would hopefully concern himself with worries about this unheralded arrival of a cavalry company. “I will expect a full report in the morning, sir. You are to call on me promptly at nine o’clock.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lee turned to go, then paused, and instead pivoted toward the supposed prisoners. “How many men do you have, captain?”

“Eighty-one, sir.”

“A bit understrength for such a mission. And how many prisoners?”

“An even dozen, sir.”

“You took them without a fight?” Lee pressed. “In Mosby’s territory?”

Chamberlain sank deeper into his role. “Of course there was a fight. I do not know what you are implying, sir.”

“Surprise that your column was not cut to pieces, captain, with an inexperienced commanding officer and such small numbers moving through such a hazardous region, and that no word of your movements from any source came to us prior to this. You and your men are to wait here while I telegraph the War Department and find out more regarding this matter.”