The Last Full Measure (3 page)

The night and the forest seemed interminable, stretching forever, Chamberlain’s belly painfully reminding him of how long it had been since he last ate. But none of those around him complained, and Chamberlain felt a reluctance to appear weaker than them.

Finally the large group of mounted men rode out onto a wider road, then not long afterwards into a town in which a few windows still showed lights despite the late hour.

The group broke up, men dismounting and heading in all directions with the horses, Chamberlain staying with Armistead and Hancock as the two headed for a large house. Inside, food awaited the men, along with another officer whom Hancock saluted. “Objective accomplished, colonel. No casualties.”

“Good. The raid I led against a federal depot near Manassas was also successful as more than another diversion. We acquired a number of new rifles and a good supply of shot and powder. Captain Armistead, I am gratified that we were able to prevent you from being subjected to a miscarriage of justice.”

Armistead saluted as well. “Unfortunately, the miscarriage goes deeper than imprisonment. I was also stripped of rank and expelled from the service.”

Hancock chuckled. “Damn it all, Lo, the Army of the New Republic can always use another captain, especially one as good as you.”

“I concur,” the colonel agreed. He turned toward Chamberlain. “And you are, sir?”

“Professor Joshua Chamberlain.” Chamberlain shook hands with the colonel, feeling awkward, and trying desperately not to lunge toward the food resting on a nearby table. “You are a professional soldier, too, sir?”

Mosby looked offended. “Not I. You see before you a former felon and a former lawyer.”

“And yet a damned decent human being nonetheless,” Hancock observed. “As well as the most brilliant master of unorthodox tactics I have ever encountered.”

“How did you end up here?” Chamberlain asked as Mosby waved him to a seat at the table. With more control than he thought he could muster, Chamberlain began to eat and drink slowly.

“I might ask the same of you, sir.” Mosby shrugged, then smiled. “There is plenty to eat here. Do not stint yourself. I know the government does not care to waste money on feeding prisoners bound for the plantations. As you have also doubtless discovered, professor, an independent mind is not a virtue in the eyes of our current government. As one who served time in prison, and narrowly escaped time on a plantation myself, over a little matter of shooting a fellow student when I was much younger and more impulsive, I am keen on questions of justice. As a lawyer, this led me to attempt to defend those the government did not wish defended. A timely warning allowed me to escape my own arrest, and since then I have found other ways to fight tyranny.” Mosby patted the pistol by his side.

“Yet we still do too little,” Hancock grumbled through a mouthful of chicken.

“We cannot raise the Army of the New Republic overnight,” Mosby replied. “It takes time and training, and the need to do all in secrecy while the government hunts us further complicates the task.”

“Secrecy, indeed,” Armistead commented. “I have heard little but rumors of your actions in this part of Virginia.”

“Control of the press makes it an ally of the government in hiding inconvenient facts,” Mosby remarked. “We have caused our rulers trouble enough already, and we are not alone, Captain Armistead. The Army of the New Republic grows in silence, mostly in states to the north but elsewhere as well. The Texican Republic has not been subdued. Every time the US Army defeats one of their armies, Sam Houston raises a new army. California remains in contention despite officially being part of the country. The Californians keep fighting, and they divert enough gold from official accounts to allow them to buy weapons and support from overseas.”

Hancock nodded. “The army of the west isn’t making much progress in California what with the freedom fighters in Kansas Territory harassing their supply lines, and the Mormon militias doing the same through Deseret.” He grinned. “Nor can having that damned fool McClellan in command help them.”

“Especially with Early commanding in Texas,” Mosby agreed. “Both of them have their own eyes on the White House, neither wants the other to gain it, and so they work against each other. Our enemies can be the best friends of liberty.”

Armistead now looked from Hancock to Mosby. “I would join your army, if you will have me. The cause is just, and I hated not being in the same army as you, Win.”

Hancock smiled again. “I felt the same, Lo.”

“We will do a formal swearing-in tomorrow,” Mosby said. “We also have some new enlisted recruits. We’re staying in this town another day to rest, then we will move on before the federals hear of our location.”

The next day Chamberlain watched Armistead and a collection of men of varied ages take the oath to join the Army of the New Republic. Soon afterwards, Captain Buford led out a mounted patrol to scout for activity by the federals. Chamberlain feared feeling isolated among these soldiers, but they made him welcome, asking about sentiment in Maine regarding the federal government. Though Chamberlain assured them that Maine was no less discontented than any other state, he felt a growing sense of personal dissatisfaction, a feeling that he should be doing something to match the dedication of these men to liberty.

That evening Chamberlain was pleased to be invited to dine with Mosby, Hancock and Armistead again. He spoke little, listening instead as the three officers spoke casually of past battles and experiences. Chamberlain felt as if he were in a play or a dream, or somehow cast into the past, seated among English barons from the days of King John, or Roundheads in the time of Charles I, or even beside Lafayette as the French cavalier sat with Washington himself. Surely those combatants of old had spoken like this, shared the same humor and the same tales of misfortune or success, as they had discussed the overthrow of the corrupt monarchs of their time. No, it felt more like being among the Patriots themselves, those who had plotted revolution in taverns in Boston.
We mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.

“You seem pensive this evening, sir,” Mosby observed.

Jarred from his reverie, Chamberlain nodded, smiling slightly. “I was thinking, sir, of the last time a man named Hancock plotted rebellion against unjust and unelected authority.”

Major Hancock leaned back in his seat, grinning. “I never could sign my name as well as that other Hancock, but I don’t think he could sit a horse half so well as me, so I’ve no grounds for complaint.”

“John Hancock was also wealthy,” Armistead pointed out.

“I am wealthy in friends,” Hancock declared, “and if any of you sons of bitches dare to disagree that you are my friend then I will see you on the field on honor and blow your damned fool head off.”

They were still laughing when a quick knock announced the arrival of a volunteer soldier, who whispered a message to Colonel Mosby. “We have a visitor,” Mosby announced to the others. “Bring him in,” he ordered. The soldier went to the door and beckoned to someone outside, then held the door before leaving as a dour-looking man entered and nodded gruffly to everyone.

“James?” Hancock asked in surprise. “I’ll be damned.”

“Doubtless,” the visitor answered. “Long time, Win.”

“Yes, it has been a long time.” Hancock glanced at Mosby and Chamberlain. “This is Captain James Longstreet, West Point class of ’42. I haven’t heard much of you recently, James.”

“I left the army over a year ago.” Longstreet sat where Mosby indicated and stretched out his legs with a sigh, gratefully accepting the offer of food and drink. “It was either that or shoot my commanding officer.”

“Early?” Armistead asked.

“Nah. I would have shot Early, and then left. I was under McClellan. Useless is too kind a word. He’s got his eyes on the White House, and is so scared of not getting it that he won’t fight a battle he might lose. Which is every battle.” Longstreet grinned derisively. “I didn’t know you were with this bunch, Lo.”

“I just came in from a prison train, headed for the plantations.”

Longstreet stared glumly at Armistead for a moment before shaking his head. “There you have it. When an officer like you can be sent to the plantations, what have we come to? I couldn’t support it any longer.”

“I heard you had gone back to Alabama,” Hancock offered.

“Yeah, tried that. It wasn’t really home though. Besides, you know me, Win. Wherever I am, folks start wishing I was somewhere else. My opinions are too well known because I can’t keep my mouth shut. The federals came looking for me and the local authorities in the south all thought locking me up sounded like a good idea since they and the federals march to the same tune. I headed north through Tennessee and Kentucky until I found a bunch of like-minded folks in Illinois, where the federal government isn’t so well regarded. Do you remember Grant, Win?”

“Grant? Ulysses? He left the service about ten years ago, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Longstreet sat silent for a moment, his eyes on the flame of the lamp. “I always thought Grant steady but unremarkable. He’s got an army now, though. You know he’s been raising volunteers for the Army of the New Republic, but I doubt you’ve heard how many. When Grant sends the word out, he’ll have five thousand men under arms, enough to overwhelm every regular army garrison in Illinois.”

“Five thousand?” Mosby trained an admiring look on Longstreet. “You’re working with him?”

“Second in command. Cump Sherman…you remember him, Win…has a few thousand volunteers in Indiana ready to rise as well. He’s coordinating closely with Grant and me. That’s another reason I’m down here. The Army of the New Republic has been a lot of groups, most of them small, operating independently. We’re going to have to work together, establish a true command structure. Grant, Sherman and I are trying to lay the groundwork for that.”

“Cump’s joined the Army of the New Republic?” Hancock asked. “That shouldn’t surprise me. The cocky bastard never did care for rules.”

“If anyone wishes to exercise authority over my actions, they must first prove their legitimacy and competence to me,” Mosby cautioned.

A rare smile lighted Longstreet’s face for a moment. “Grant told me to ask you to just keep on doing what you’ve been doing.”

Mosby smiled back. “That request I can agree to without hesitation. When will you rise?”

“That’s the problem.” Longstreet shook his head, morose once more. “We can raise a small army. What we can’t do is tell the people of the state why they should support us rather than the current federal government. To them, we’re all too likely to look like just another batch of soldiers planning on running the government. We need someone who can talk well, a civilian who’s known to be honest and can make the right speeches and the right arguments to win popular sentiment, to convince the people we really mean it when we talk about restoring the republic and getting the army out of politics.”

“We have a professor of rhetoric here,” Hancock said, with a half-bow toward Chamberlain. “He can doubtless offer up many fine words which would put us crude soldiers to shame.”

Longstreet frowned as if he didn’t get the humor. “We know who we need. Someone who we know the people of Illinois and surrounding states will believe. Grant sent me here to see if you had him, though I had hell’s own time finding you.”

“Had him?” Mosby asked. “Why would we have this individual?”

“We know you’ve been raiding the prison trains bound south. This man was arrested and brought to DC. We know that much, and assumed he was sent south after that. Fellow name of Lincoln.”

“Lincoln?” Chamberlain asked in surprise. “Abraham Lincoln?”

“Yes.” Longstreet squinted at Chamberlain. “Who are you again, sir?”

“Professor Chamberlain. From Bowdoin. In Maine.”

“Oh. Yes. Abraham Lincoln. Known and trusted in Illinois. Most important, a fine speaker and a true believer in the republic. We know that. We need to get him back to Illinois to rally the people to us, and we need him as soon as may be. The volunteers are growing restless. Jobs are being sent to factories near plantations in the south and out west where slaves can do the work for less than even the pitiful wages paid up north by those who say they must compete with slave-labor. Families are suffering, folks losing homes and farms while the bankers make more money every day off their misery, and it’s getting hard to hold our volunteers back. It would be a disaster if the volunteers act before we have the means to convince the rest of the people of our motives.”

“I remember the name of Lincoln now,” Mosby said. “We’ve seen some pamphlets with Lincoln’s speeches on them that got smuggled down this way. The man does have a fine way with words.” Mosby shook his head. “But we do not intercept every train. We must have missed the one Lincoln was on.”

“He did not go by train,” Chamberlain said, drawing surprised glances again. “He was sent to Fortress Monroe as a prisoner.”

Everyone looked at Chamberlain in silence for a moment, then Mosby spoke with a hint of skepticism. “How do you know this, sir?”

“We went before the same tribunal. I was in the room when he was sentenced. Rendition to Fortress Monroe.” Chamberlain felt awkward at the way these men were hanging on his words, yet also pleased that he was contributing in some small way to their efforts. “We spoke very briefly before being separated.”

“Hmmm,” Longstreet observed. “Good-lookin’ fella, would you say?”

“Lincoln?” Chamberlain asked. “No. No, that is one thing I cannot say. His words are far handsomer than he is.”

Longstreet nodded. “You did meet the man in truth, then.”

Hancock spoke up. “Fortress Monroe? Do you know how they were sending him there?”

Chamberlain tried to recall the words spoken by the judges at the tribunal. “They mentioned the
Merrimac
. They said it was leaving for Hampton Roads the day after the train I was on left Washington, and Lincoln should be put on it.”

“A warship,” Mosby said. “One of the steam frigates. If Lincoln is as important a prisoner as we have been told, they would have sent him by such means rather than risking overland travel. If the
Merrimac
left Baltimore today she would probably have arrived at Fortress Monroe before nightfall.”