A dark pillar of smoke rose to the heavens.
Herman said nothing, the major next to him watching it all in silence as well. Even the Rebs shooting at them lowered their weapons, turning to look at the apocalyptic devastation.
The supply depot for the Army of the Potomac went up in flames, but the wagons not caught in the devastation, thousands of them outside of the town, trapped in the panic and then abandoned by their drivers, were now in the hands of the Army of Northern Virginia.
Rounding the curve, Herman left the throttle wide open. He had to get back to Baltimore and from there to Washington.
Somewhere, somehow, a new line of supply, a new depot had to be set up and opened. Millions of dollars in supplies had just been lost, but this was a modern war, a war of railroads, and the factories up north would make it good, replace it, and, he hoped, continue to press the fight… even if it meant creating an entire new army as well.
7:45 AM, JULY 3,1863 TREASURY OFFICE WASHINGTON, D.C.
"Is there anyone here who can give me a clear indication of what is going on?" Abraham Lincoln asked, as he dropped the latest telegram from Baltimore and turned to face Halleck and Stanton.
He had been awakened at five in the morning by one of his staff bearing a copy of the dispatch from General Haupt to Halleck that the Confederate army was in the rear of the Army of the Potomac and advancing on Westminster. Dressing quickly, he had come over to the Treasury Office across the street from the White House. It acted as a nerve center, the vast web of telegraph lines linking Washington to the rest of the world, terminating in an office of clattering keys and bustling messengers.
As he spoke, the telegraphers behind him continued at their work, though more than one was looking over at him with nervous, sidelong glances.
Stanton, always jumpy about secrecy, motioned that they should retire to a small side office, and Lincoln followed, first scooping up the pile of messages and nodding a thanks to the operators.
Stanton closed the door and sighed. He was suffering from another asthma attack, his breath coming in short, wheezing gasps. He looked over at Halleck. "Well?"
Halleck was silent for a moment "I think Meade might have been embarrassed."
"Embarrassed?" Lincoln asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
"You sound like he was caught with his britches down, and the parson's wife has just walked by with the church choir. Embarrassed?"
"For the moment only, sir."
"Only for the moment?" and in frustration Lincoln held up the sheaf of telegrams and started to scan through them.
"Report from Haupt of an enemy division, perhaps a corps or more advancing on Westminster. Report from Baltimore, dated one hour ago, of panic, that Confederate cavalry is on the edge of the city, and that Westminster has fallen. Report from Philadelphia that rebel cavalry is across the Susquehanna and moving east And from General Meade, a report now close to half a day old that there are indications of Lee moving to his left and yet also demonstrating on his right before Gettysburg."
Lincoln let the papers drop on the table that separated him from Halleck. "What are you going to do, General?"
Halleck looked at him, blankly.
There was a long, drawn-out moment of silence, broken at last by a rap on the door. Stanton pulled it open. A rather nervous-looking telegrapher was standing there, holding a slip of foolscap. Stanton snatched it from him and slammed the door shut He scanned the paper, wheezing noisily, shoulders hunched over as he struggled for breath, then handed the paper to Lincoln.
"A newspaper in Baltimore has just reported that smoke from the direction of Westminster has been observed from atop several church steeples. They claim a distant explosion was heard a few minutes ago."
Stanton coughed noisily, handkerchief over his mouth.
"It might mean our supply depot is burning," Stanton offered between gasps for air.
"If that is the case, then what are we going to do?" Lincoln asked.
"There is the good news from Vicksburg at least" Halleck offered. "It should be finished there within the next couple of days."
"That is a thousand miles away" Lincoln replied, his voice soft but filled with frustration. The mere fact that Halleek had mentioned it caught Lincoln by surprise, for there was no love lost between Halleck and Grant It showed to him that Halleck was desperate, grasping for anything to divert attention from what was happening literally at then-back door.
"We have to wait to hear from Meade," Stanton interjected. "We shouldn't react until we have clear and certain intelligence from the commander in the field. We've seen this type of thing before and have survived, discovering later it was not as bad as was at first thought"
"What about Couch in Harrisburg?" Lincoln asked. "Could he advance?"
"Militia," Halleck interjected. "They would be worse than useless against the Army of Northern Virginia."
"Our garrison here in Washington?"
Both Halleck and Stanton shook their heads no.
"That is our final reserve,".Stanton announced.
"So you are saying we can do nothing but wait Is that it?"
Halleck reluctantly nodded. Lincoln looked to Stanton, who nodded as well.
"My God." Lincoln sighed. "I fear we are heading toward a debacle. The Army of the Potomac cut off from Washington, its supply base gone, and all we can do is sit here and wave telegrams at each other."
He lowered his head and turned away.
Chapter'Thirteen
Ignoring the hum of minie balls clipping through the trees, Col. Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain carefully scanned the enemy position half a mile to the south.
"Over there, to the right, about two miles away, is where" Buford was killed yesterday," Strong Vincent, Joshua's brigade commander, pointed out
Joshua and the other regimental commanders around him said nothing. Several cavalry troopers from that fight who had fallen back into the advancing regiments of First Division, Fifth Corps, and were now acting as guides, nodded.
"Goddamn bastards!" one of them growled and spit a stream of tobacco juice near Joshua's feet
"So we're back in Maryland, gentlemen," Strong said.
Joshua looked over at him. He liked Strong, newly promoted to brigade command. Strange, he remembered a comment by Strong a couple of days earlier, about dying under the colors in Pennsylvania. He half suspected it was a prophecy, for men were indeed allowed, at times, a glimpse of the fate ahead.
He was tired, feeling a bit shaky, the regiments having been rousted out at two in the morning and sent back down the very same road they had come up only the day before. A countermarch always sapped morale, especially when done at night. Rumors were flying that the army had been flanked yet again.