Grant Comes East - Civil War 02 (18 page)

"Yes, Hazner, we can't let the glory of the taking of Washington slip past us. We can't let Texas have this moment. Now re-form the regiment."

"Sir, what regiment?" Hazner asked woodenly.

In Front of Fort Stevens
8:30
a.m.

'T'hat's it," Lee cried. "Go, Texas, go!"

He had come forward from the grove, standing where he had first seen the fort the day before.

It was as if a vision was unfolding, a recurring d
ream that
one forgets upon awakening, that yet hovers at the edge of memory throughout the day, only to return again in sleep.
For two years he had dreamt of th
is moment, the final door unlocked, the end now within sight. Washington was there for the taking; it was the end.

"General Longstreet Now, bring your men up now!"

Longstreet was silent and there were tears in his eyes.

"General Longstreet?"

"Sir, it will be another half hour before I can even hope to commit McLaws."

"Then send in what yo
u have!" "A brigade, maybe two,
sir." 'Then send them in!" "Yes, sir."

He turned and rode back and Lee watched him leave. His gaze shifted to the east, to the sun.

"Oh, God, freeze it in the heavens as You did for Joshua before Jericho. I beg You please let it freeze, for time to stop, to give me but one more precious hour."

The smoke swirled, obscuring the sun for a moment, and then it came clear again
...
and to the southeast, he could see the dome of the Capitol.

To the Rear of Fort Stevens

9.15am

I c
an't let you go any farther, sir!" The captain of his cavalry escort reined around, blocking the middle of the road. Lincoln said nothing for a moment. He had always felt uncomfortable on horseback, and this mount was no exception
...
a mare, far too small for his long, bony frame, stirrups pulled up too high, so that he was crouching in the saddle rather man sitting.

He had left the White Hous
e shortly after dawn in a car
riage, but the tangle of troops heading into battle, and the civilians fleeing it, clogged all the roads, making passage impossible. After a difficult argument with the commander of his escort, a trooper had offered a horse, but there had been no time to adjust the stirrups before setting out again.

They were north of the city, close enough to the battle now that the air overhead hummed with shot and spent bullets. A trooper riding at the front of the column had been knocked unconscious by a spent bullet, which had struck him in the forehead. After that the cavalry escort had ringed him in even tighter, using their bodies as shields. The gesture had both touched and annoyed him.

Battered soldiers were coming back, many wounded, all of them panicked, spreading the word that Fort Stevens had fallen.

He could hear the roar of battle just ahead, the sound shocking, a continual thunder, so close now that the rebel yell was clearly heard.

"Sir, we must go back!" the captain shouted.

"No, Captain, we stay here for the moment."

"Mr. President. I am responsible for your safety. I urge you, sir, let's retire to the naval yard; I will send a courier to fetch your family."

He thought of the servant Jim, at this moment most likely rounding up the other servants, telling them to get guns and prepare.

Lincoln looked over at the captain.

"My family will not be fetched," Lincoln said coldly.

"Sony, sir. I didn't mean it as an insult. They will be escorted with all dignity."

"No, Captain. They will not be escorted, nor will I. They stay where they are, as I plan to stay right here."

The captain started to open his mouth. Lincoln forced a smile, leaned over, and touched the captain on the sleeve; the young officer startled, looking at him wide-eyed.

"Son, if I run now, what will my soldiers say?"

The captain looked at him, unable to reply.

"I'm the commander of this army, am I not?"

"Ah, yes, sir."

"Fine then, son. Let's just calm down, stay here, and do our duty. At the moment my duty is to be calm, as is yours. We can't go running about like headless chickens, can we?"

The captain actually forced a smile.

"No, sir," he responded with an emphasis on the "sir."

Lincoln patted him on the arm.

"Fine, son. Let's just stay here for the moment and see what we can do to make sure this wrestling match turns out a victory for the Union."

He smiled again and the captain nodded, turning away, but ordering his men to form a barrier in front of the president, the captain himself taking position directly in front of him.

Lincoln had to admit that inwardly he was terrified. He had only heard battle from a distance before, the two fights at Manassas, the distant thunder from Union Mills. He never imagined it could be so loud, so all-consuming, and so frightening.

His mount, however, did not even flinch as a shell fluttered overhead and detonated with a thunderclap, the captain looking back anxiously to see that he was not harmed.

He smiled yet again.

"Sir, at least take that hat off." And the captain hesitated. "What?"

"Your hat. You're tall, sir, that hat marks you. A rebel sharpshooter might see it"

He realized the captain was right. He had somehow retained his stovepipe hat on the ride out No, if it marked him, others would see it as well; his boys would see it and that was what he wanted.

He shook his head. Exasperated, the captain turned to face front

A cluster of officers came down the road, riding back from the fight, one of the men swaying in his saddle, blood covering the front of his j
acket. In the lead was Heintzel
man. The general reined in and saluted.

"Mr. President, just wha
t are you doing here?" Heintzel
man shouted.

"Watching the battle, General."

"Sir, battle is not a spectator's sport. The rebs are not a quarter of a mile off and coming on fast"

"What is the situation, General?"

"They've taken Fort Stevens; they have a breakthrough across a front of more than a quarter mile."

"The flanking forts?"

"Still holding for the moment, sir, but it's getting shaky." "And you propose?"

Heintzelman did not reply, looking back to the north. "Your plans, General?"

"Sir, we should abandon the line and pull back into the city."

"What has General Lee put in?" "Sir, it's hard to say. Looks like three divisions, but more will be coming." Lincoln nodded.

"Like trying to pour a hundred gallons of buttermilk through a funnel. It'll take him time, General."

"Sir, I know that, but the men are running, sir," and even as he spoke he gestured to the open fields, the battered remnants of defenders heading back into the city.

"Calm, General. Let us be calm."

Heintzelman looked at him wide-eyed, as if about ready to explode.

"Calm, General. If we lead we can rally those men. They will invest their fears in our courage. But they must see our courage and rally to it"

Heintzelman lowered his head, nodded, wiping his eyes, and Lincoln was startled to see that the man was actually in tears.

"I'm sorry, Mr. President Sorry. You are right sir. We can rally them."

Lincoln felt an infinite exhaustion. He thought of the pictures he had seen of General Washington, the forlorn hope of crossing the Delaware, of the bitter winter of Valley Forge when nearly all had given up hope. The mantle of that now rested upon him, the sacrifices made to create this republic now upon his shoulders.

He said nothing, features now stern, bony shoulders braced back.

"Let us just stay here," Lincoln said softly.

Heintzelman looked back up, nodded, and fell in by his side.

Men continued to pass, falling back, but at the sight of the two, here and there a soldier slowed, stopped, a few calling out Lincoln's name, others silent, as if ashamed. Gradually a cluster of men gathered around them. A flag bearer came out of the smoke, carrying the dark blue banner of Maine. The soldier stopped and without comment planted the staff of the flag in the ground and turned to face back North. Within minutes hundreds were gathering. There was no cheering, no singing, no heroic gestures, just grim determination.

As he looked at them he wept inwardly, struggling to hide his tears. Here was the republic, his country, which he had sworn to defend and which those men were now defending, without fanfare, without much hope of seeing the day through to the end, but which they would now die for. The cause of the United States of America was reduced to this band of nearly defeated men who were gathering new courage, reorganizing themselves, and beginning to gird for battle in front of his eyes.

He took heart from these rallying troops, as he had taken heart from a servant of a race who till now were exempt in the minds of so many from that solemn pledge that all men were indeed created equal.

Another flag bearer, from New York, fell in carrying the national flag. A militia regiment, easily distinguished by their bright, clean uniforms, came up the road at the double. Sweat streaked their faces; many were gasping for breath, many trembling with fear, and yet they swung into line.

Heintzelman looked over at Lincoln, nodded, and then, with proper flourish, drew out his sword and saluted.

Lincoln could only nod.

The ragged formation stepped off, following Heintzelman. They went back into the inferno. He caught glimpses of battle, his first sight of that blood-red banner of the South coming forward, a dimly seen line of men advancing. A round struck one of his escorts, the man swearing, turning away, clutching a shattered arm. The wounded trooper looked at Lincoln, then pushed his mount back into the formation around the president, reassuming his post

The roar of battle swelled, expanding, racing outward to either flank, Union huzzah counterpointed by rebel yell.

And then they started to fall back, giving ground slowly, men dropping, but none running.

"Sir, we must move back. Now."

His attention was so fixed on the battle that he had not even noticed the captain by his side, reaching over to take his reins.