Discovering that she was having an affair with the nephew of Francis Scott Key, Dan Sickles had confronted the man in Lafayette Park, directly across from the White House, pulled out a pistol, and gunned him down. Then, in a bizarre twist, Edwin Stanton, now the secretary of war, defended him in court, cooking up a strange new plea never heard of before-that he had been 'temporarily insane" and thus not responsible. Of course the jury had been delighted with the entertainment provided and let him off. Then Sickles does an about-turn and brings the fallen strumpet back into his bed, showing up in public with her by his side as if nothing had ever happened.
It was all but impossible to understand such a man, such a world. He calls the Point a "papist monastery." Well, better that than the world of a man like Sickles.
Is that what I am fighting for? Henry wondered. I have far more in common with Lee than with this person standing beside me. Yet it is his world I'm fighting for out here, this brawling, strange new behemoth that our Republic is evolving into. Lee fights to preserve a different world, elegant though built on the corruption of slavery, but still elegant, where men are expected to act as gentlemen and ladies, well, to act as true ladies.
Sickles, the boys from the factories of New England, the swarming mobs in the back alleys of New York, the miners coming up out of the pits of Pennsylvania and the smoke-belching iron mills, the Irish and the Germans by the hundreds of thousands swarming off the boats and into our ranks, are something new, different, a strange, vibrant energy that I barely understand.
"You think something is going on over there, don't you, Hunt?"
Henry lowered his glasses.
"Reconnaissance is not my job, sir. I'm up on this hill to place guns".
He nodded back over his shoulder where the Second Battery was laboriously working to bring up their guns, cutting down trees to clear a way, twelve horses, double teamed to a single caisson and piece, struggling up through the woods on the north flank of the hill.
A brigade from Third Corps was digging in along the crest of the slope, piling up rocks, dragging in logs. The front slope of the hill had been lumbered off the year before, thus providing a beautiful field of fire straight down to a jumble of rocks at the base of die hill and out toward an open wheat field beyond. It was wonderful ground. An entire rebel corps would bleed itself out trying to take this hill once they were dug in.
"So why are you sitting here looking west, Hunt, rather than with your guns?" Henry smiled. "Curious." "So am I."
"Hard to tell, but it does look like some dust stirring up out beyond that next ridge," Henry noted. "You look close and you can see some Reb skirmishers along that second ridge." Even as he spoke he noticed a bit more dust, a plume rising up from behind the ridge.
Sickles raised his own field glasses and stared intently for a moment.
"Where's General Warren?" Henry asked. "He's the chief topographical engineer. I thought Meade sent him down here to take a look."
"Up on the next hill," Sickles said, pointing toward the large, wooded hill-the Big Round Top, locals called it- that was to their left.
Henry turned his glasses and saw where the Signal Corps had established itself, building a perch halfway up a large tree. There was an occasional fluttering of flags. He had thought about trying to work a battery up that mountain, but a quick survey showed it would have required an entire regiment of men, armed with axes, to clear the way and open out a field of fire. If the battle did spread out there, it would have to be an infantry fight.
"I've got a good regiment up there," Sickles announced, "Second Sharpshooters supporting that signal station. They're tied into a signal station down at Emmitsburg."
"Wonder why Buford down there doesn't push out a bit to the west and see what's up?"
"Go ask Meade," Dan replied. "I just got word from Buford that he's pulling out Relieved from the field to head back to Westminster to refit after the fight"
"What?"
"One of his staff came up about thirty minutes ago to tell me. They're going down to Taneytown." "Who's replacing them?"
"I am. I'm sending down Berdan's men, First Sharpshooters." "No cavalry?" "Nope."
"Strange, no cavalry on our flank. There's nothing between us and Emmitsburg, is there?" Henry asked.
"My men were the last unit out of there late yesterday. Nothing between us and the Potomac except for the Signal Corps and a regiment or two of cavalry that came in behind us last night"
Henry lowered his glasses and took another puff on his cigar. "I'd better get back to headquarters. My batteries look like they're moving in fine up here."
"My batteries, Hunt Remember, the corps commander has direct control of his battalion of guns. You just advise."
Henry bristled and looked over at Sickles. The politician turned general smiled.
"Relax, Hunt You do good work."
"Thanks."
Sickles looked past Henry. "Ah, here comes Warren. Good man, commanded a regiment under me before moving up to headquarters."
Henry looked back over his shoulder. Maj. Gen. Gouvenor Warren, puffing hard, was laboriously walking up the steep slope, trailed by several of his staff.
"A good man even though he's West Point, too?" Henry offered.
"Sometimes it doesn't ruin a man completely. Warren has a good eye for ground."
"West Point training," Henry could not help but say. "You don't learn how to read groundwork wandering around Manhattan."
Sickles chuckled. "Hunt, I might actually like you. You've got guts."
Warren, breathing audibly, approached Sickles, while calling for one of his staff to fetch their mounts. "Feel like a mountain goat going up and down these hills," Warren offered, as he saluted.
"Have a cigar, Gouvernor."
Warren waved the offer off. "I think something is up," Warren announced, bending over slightly to catch his breath.
"Signal from Emmitsburg reports dust on the road that goes from Fairfield to Emmitsburg. Also, from up on that hill," and he pointed back to Big Round Top, "you can catch glimpses of some kind of movement, but too much dust to tell."
There was a flutter of signal flags from the perch atop the mountain even as Warren spoke.
Sickles turned and looked back to the west, meditatively chewing on his cigar. Henry uncorked his canteen and offered it to Warren, who nodded a thanks and took a long drink.
"Day's going to get hot real quick," Warren offered. "Maybe we should ask Buford to go over to that next ridge and take a look around."
"Buford is pulling off the line, going back to refit"
Warren sighed, looking back to the west. "Might be nothing. Still think we should take a look."
'I'll send Berdan up, give him a regiment for additional support" Sickles announced.
Henry looked over at the general. "Sir, I remember hearing your orders were to dig in along this line, not to push for-" ward."
Sickles just looked over and grinned. "Hunt, when you get back to headquarters, tell his High Almighty that we might have a problem developing. Also, I think we should put a little more strength down forward, into that peach orchard by the road to Emmitsburg. This hill's a good spot, but my right flank is on low land, no clear fields of fire. If we move out to that orchard and the next ridge, we'll have a better position in case something is developing."
"Sir, orders were to deploy along this line," Warren observed. "I was sent here to survey this position for defense, not half a mile forward."