How far Longstreet had advanced, he wasn't sure. The last dispatch rider, coming in a half hour ago, reported fighting along the creek that bisected the road between Taneytown and Emmitsburg.
This was the vulnerable moment, one that if he contemplated it too much, would freeze up his nerves. Longstreet, with two divisions, might be as far as Taneytown. Hill, so sick he could barely keep in the saddle, was now on the road, the head of his column down to Emmitsburg, the last of the troops now streaming toward Fairfield. Ewell and Stuart were here, and Pickett was still twenty-five miles away.
We are spread out all over the map, and if now, at this moment, Meade should stir and come storming down from those hills, and at the same time dispatch a corps to move on Emmitsburg, the Army of Northern Virginia would be cut to ribbons.
How many times have I courted disaster like this? Chancellorsville, everyone talks about it now, the audacity of Jackson's march; but that was an act of desperation. The Second Manassas campaign, that was a calculated move; but I knew the character of Pope, the bitterness between him and McClellan, and acted accordingly. That was nearly a year ago. If someone on the other side realizes I'm doing it again, this time they just might strike first and catch me on the roads. McClellan almost achieved that last September when one of my couriers lost our campaign plan, and we barely got the army back together in time to stop the Union forces at Sharpsburg. That was so close I spent half the day thinking they might just break through and split our forces. Let's hope Pipe Creek doesn't turn into another Antietam Creek if Meade figures out what I am doing.
An artillery battery, one of Hill's units that had been in yesterday's fight and waited hours for the infantry to pass, came clattering in from a field on the north side of the pike, a staff officer leading the way, motioning for the gunners to start south. The artillerymen silently saluted as they passed; orders had been repeatedly given to all the men that there would be no demonstrations, no cheering.
"Going around 'em again, ain't we, General?" one of the gunners shouted as he rode by, astride the lead trace horse of a three-inch rifled piece.
Lee said nothing, just nodding in reply, and the man grinned, offering a proud, almost exaggerated salute.
"It's going smoothly," Walter Taylor offered.
"As long as they don't stir over there," Lee replied, nodding back toward Gettysburg.
'They won't"
"How do you know that?"
"They never have."
"Someday they just might" Lee said softly. "Remember, this army is all we have, Walter. It's got one more good fight in it and we came too close to using up that fight here. I came too close. I realize now that I was trying to match our blood against the ground those people over there held.
"General Longstreet was right But even if we seize the land south of here, and force those people over there to come at us, they will do it with a fury. We'll finally be between them and Washington, and the cost will be high. When that time comes, and it might be as early as tomorrow, it has to be decisive, not just another hollow victory."
He sighed, gaze still fixed back toward Gettysburg.
"Keep a sharp eye on things here, Walter. Ewell is in command on this front I know that rankles Stuart, him being senior in rank, but he needs to be reined in a bit
"If anything stirs, if the enemy starts to move on Ewell, send for me at once. If not and once Ewell starts to pull out after dark, catch up to me; I will reach Taneytown tonight and make headquarters there."
"Sir, that's a long ride for you."
Lee fixed his adjutant with a cool gaze. 'I'm not that old, Walter," Lee said softly.
Walter shifted uncomfortably. Ever since the "incident" back during the winter, which one doctor called trouble with the heart, Walter had increasingly taken on the role of monitoring how much rest Lee got and how long he spent in the saddle. There wasn't time for that now, even though Lee's stomach had been troublesome throughout the day.
"It's a wicked hot day, sir," Walter finally offered. "At least try and find a cool spot by a creek to take a few minutes."
"Walter."
"Sir?"
Lee sighed and then smiled. "Just keep an eye on things here. Make sure Ewell and Stuart keep fighting the enemy and not each other."
As if to add emphasis to Lee's words, the sound of artillery fire increased off beyond Gettysburg, Union guns along the brow of Cemetery Hill opening up, replying to the harassing fire from Stuart. What sounded like the rattle of musketry was added in as well.
Walter smiled and men offered a salute.
Lee, followed by the rest of his staff, edged down to the side of the road; and gently nudging Traveler to a trot, Lee started south, toward Emmitsburg, leaving Gettysburg behind.
6:00 PM, JULY 2,1863 TANEYTOWN
Numb with exhaustion, Pete Longstreet, legs trembling, swung down from the saddle. He leaned against his mount for a moment, waiting for feeling to return to his feet and calves. He'd been in the saddle for nearly fourteen hours, ridden over twenty-five miles, fought a battle, and been in the forefront of the pursuit of Buford's broken division. Several hundred prisoners had been rounded up on the road to Taneytown, men with blown horses that couldn't move another step.
The village was in utter chaos; dead horses littered the streets; skirmishing continued along the road to the east Anderson's men, pushed far beyond the limit were literally collapsing along the sidewalks. Behind them, the head of McLaws's division was coming into view. They had not been in the fight for the river crossing; but like everyone else, they had been on the road since before dawn, a long day's march in the July heat
He finally stepped away from his horse, holding the reins, and walked slowly, grimacing as he stretched, shoulders and back aching. A staff officer came up, saluted, and said he had found a house they could use as headquarters. Pete nodded and followed the man down a bend in the road to a splendid-looking, two-story, Federalist-style mansion on the south side of town.
The lawn was torn up, bits of paper and horse droppings littering it indicating that only a day ago a large number of troops had been here.
" 'The Antrim' locals call it" the staff officer announced. "Nice place."
Pete nodded.
"Fine. Put someone on the main road so they can direct couriers. Send a dispatch back to General Lee telling him I am establishing headquarters here for the night."
"Then we're stopping here?" the officer asked.
Pete slowed, looking up at the captain. Hell of a day. We actually got around them. Buford's dead. Damn, John was a good man. His men, most of them, got out though, riding in every damn direction.
He sighed, coming to a stop, leaning against his horse for support
Meade must know by now. That fight started around the bridge early in the afternoon. He must be sending something down here by now, perhaps a full corps. And to the east Prisoners were saying there were a hell of a lot supplies already stockpiled at Westminster, but that was still another ten miles away.
We stop tonight Meade could pull out start moving down that road, maybe even get troops into Westminster by dawn.
Everything was so damn confusing. He was exhausted, needed food, needed to just relieve himself, to then sit and think.
"Get into that house; see if you can rustle up some food, a place to sit down; get the maps out I want McLaws and Hood in here, and see if one of our boys can find a few locals who are on our side.