The next day Andy enlisted in the Gray Dragoons, but he had remembered every word of the speech. Maybe it impressed him because his father was not a logical man.
Unaware of the time, he had wrestled with his thoughts. Suddenly, voices jolted him back into reality. He raised his head from his hands and peeped through the stairway newels, seeking the location of the voices. The library door was halfway open. Light was beaming out into the hallway. Surveying the semidark hallway, he saw it was clear. Silently, he slipped down the stairs until he positioned himself where he had a good view of the library room. Cautiously he lay down on the stairs, his body stretched perpendicular to the stairway. From this position, peering between the newels, his view through the half-open door was nearly as good as if he were in the room.
Andy smiled as he thought, What a stroke of good luck. There they were—Lee and Jackson—the right and left arm of the South, two great military geniuses, one on either side of the large library table. They were first standing, then walking or sitting, depending as to the importance of their discussion. They were engaged in a heart-to-heart talk from friend to friend.
Andy, peering directly into the room, etched into his mind a scene never to be forgotten. Yes, there they were—the two great generals whom the fate of the South depended on. Each had an athletic build and each was standing six feet or better, straight and dignified. Both wearing a uniform of spotless gray with a handsome sword and a sash. Yes, these two, so different yet so alike in their ability to lead and direct men. Jackson was direct, blunt, decisive—a dynamic force that knew no fear and believed that he could do whatever he desired to do. Lee was suave, reserved, polished—a typical gentleman of the old South.
Andy asked himself, “Why had they come here? They were elated over their victory at Bull Run, but both seemed despondent and discouraged. Was it because Lee had evacuated Western Virginia? Yes, yes—yes—that was it. The press had already nicknamed Lee Evacuation Lee, and Jackson was disappointed and humiliated that his own people—the people of Western Virginia—had proved disloyal to him and the South. So they were here to discuss the fortunes of war.”
Andy’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jackson speak. “Robert, without a shadow of a doubt I could have captured Washington. With ten thousand fresh troops, we had them and even more, but they wouldn’t let me. Davis wouldn’t let me. You understand, Robert! Davis wouldn’t permit me to take Washington.” He sprang to his feet, marched around the table, jaw set, his blue eyes flashing fire. He halted in front of Lee and crashed his clenched fist down on the table, saying once again, “Robert, Jefferson Davis would not let me continue into the city. I still pray that our Heavenly Father gives us victory. But if the war is lost, we lost it the day after Bull Run.”
General Lee did not move. He sat there, on the opposite side of the table, maintaining the dignified composure that was always his. The Gray Dragoon from his position was looking directly into his handsome face, slightly reddened under the wealth of iron-gray hair that so distinguished him. His hazel-brown eyes gave forth a radiant expression of kindness. For a moment Andy was moved with such admiration; he felt like rushing forth, asking forgiveness for his thoughts of escaping.
“Tom, anyone can make a mistake,” replied Lee. “There will be many more before this war is over.”
“I agree. There will be errors,” avowed Jackson. “But the way and hour was clear. Everyone knew it. My men begged that we push forth and take the city. I could only tell them that our president would not permit us to go any farther. I prayed for God to give us the opportunity. He appointed the hour, and, General, we failed to take advantage of His answer. I am sure as I sit here before you this night, God gave us the opportunity the next day because McDowell’s army broke and ran back to Washington in a complete rout. They were panic-stricken. Thousands threw down their arms. Hundreds deserted and hundreds waited to surrender. They were in utter discord, dirty, ragged, hungry, exhausted, and half of them without arms. I could have taken the city, the next day, without a struggle.”
“Robert, think what it would have meant. It would have discouraged and depressed the entire North. I’m sure Maryland would have been our ally, an’—an’—and Kentucky and Missouri would have joined us. I know most of the people in Western Virginia would have stayed on our side.”
He brought his clenched fist down once again on the table, sprang to his feet, and began pacing back and forth in front of the table. He stopped at the end of the room, standing as if at attention, and peered out the window into the darkness.
A few moments of silence engulfed the room before Lee answered.
“Tom,” he began. “A great general has the instinct or knack for knowing the situation of his enemy and somehow pretty well knows what will happen before he attacks. When we were in Mexico, you displayed the uncanny wisdom and always had our next move figured out long before anyone else. I have no doubt that you’re right in your assessment now. You were there. You knew the conditions, but I am not sure that your assumption that the North would have collapsed is a true picture. Tom, be reasonable. I agree. Taking their capitol would have been a stunning blow. I agree. If it had been followed up with the sufficient forces and momentum, that may have won the war. But, Tom, could we have backed it up? I am convinced, if you had taken the city, they would have been determined to do everything in their power to drive us out. They have unlimited resources and men. They would have redoubled their effort and we would have had to prepare for a long and bloody battle. What if we had wavered?”
“Wavered?” exclaimed Jackson, wheeling around, facing Lee from his position in front of the window. “That is exactly what we did. We wavered—we did not make a halfhearted effort to follow the crushing blow rendered to our enemy at Bull Run. Now the whole North is aroused. Lincoln has called for a half million volunteers. They will be coming. Yes, they will be coming—from Western Virginia, Missouri, Kentucky, an-an-and other states will follow.”
“Robert, there are two ways to win a war. One is by delaying and wearing down the process. We are the ones wearing down. Look at the area we have seceded. The other is to hit the enemy where it hurts and before he is ready for battle and then pound—pound the life out of him before he can recover. That is what I wanted to do at Bull Run.”
“Tom, I know you are right, and generally you were right in the past,” replied Lee.
“Jeff Davis held me back.” Ignoring Lee’s compliment, Jackson continued, “He may be a good president, but he doesn’t know anything about fighting a war. The result of his decision is that the North is beginning to gather a huge force to unleash against us. Our men have been inactive for weeks. Lying in camp, they have become discouraged, disappointed, and many are ill with the fever. They have dwindled away by going on furloughs and just plain quit because their enlistment has expired or they have deserted. Some leaving because they feel the war is nearly over.
“You said yourself the war has only begun. The fools in Richmond are responsible. Ever since Bull Run, the information they have released leads one to believe this war is nearly over until the whole South now believes it is true. They have created a delusion that is fast depleting our ranks. We have the lack of capable leadership in Richmond and even in the field. I ask you, General, what will be our fate when hordes from the North sweep down in a few months?”
“General, what would you suggest or do to correct this error?” asked Lee.
“First I would appoint a commander in chief for our armies. Then, I would give him unrestricted power to act, pursue, and direct the war using military principles” was Jackson’s prompt reply. “I would enact a law or make some provision to provide men, supplies, and equipment for our armies. Establish a quartermaster corps commanded by a high-ranking officer from the field.”
“Once again you are right, Tom, but who would want such a great responsibility and who would have these qualifications?” asked Lee.
“I know I am right,” answered Jackson. “There is only one man in the South that could unify the Confederate Army. Robert, you are that man.”
Lee promptly stood up. Raising his hands, he protested, “No—no—no. This time you are wrong, General. You are all wrong. It is my sincere opinion that you are the man. You fill the requirements better than I or any other man in the South. This is my true feeling and not flattery. Evidently you have thoroughly thought this out and know how the chain of command should perform.”
“Wait—wait—no! No! No!” Waving his hands, shaking his head, Jackson’s voice appearing to reflect a tone of anger. “When I am in the field, I can plan and manage a campaign and even fight the battle. But I would not and could not handle the delegation that the command would require. You are the man—you are the only man the South has that could plan, organize, and make it work.”
“You always underestimate yourself, General. You are too modest. You sell yourself to the public and superiors for less than your achievements and ability. I admire you for it,” said General Lee. “They need to know how you command and your conquests. It has worked in reverse for me. The public and Richmond have expected miracles from me. Instead, upon their orders, I am returning from Western Virginia defeated and a great disappointment to the South. You know success was impossible because of Richmond and their halfhearted decisions. But the people of the South don’t know or understand my defeat. They will never understand because the Southern press continually fills their print with thrusts, lies, and cutting words of criticism. Do you think the people would accept a man who the press shows as a failure?”
“Yes, I do,” interrupted Jackson. “If you let them know who really was responsible for the failure of the Western campaign. Instead, you choose not to explain or answer your critics. Sure, the mudslinging of the press is a shame. It’s unpardonable. It’s without excuse and in ignorance on the part of those who write and print it. Unless you rebut and expose those who ordered your retreat, then let it go, forget it. Western Virginia is lost to the South. It is my home. It hurts me greatly, but the people there will have to pay the price for their disloyalty.
“I’ve known you personally and intimately for over twenty years, and I would be willing to follow you to the ends of the world. The facts will come out. The lies of the press will soon blow over. In spite of everything that has been printed and anything that has been said, the South, down deep in its heart, still loves you and will depend upon your strong leadership before this war is over. You may as well get ready to take command. It’s coming and sooner than any of us may think.”
There was silence. General Lee’s eyes filled with tears, and he bit his lip in choking back his emotions.
“I understand you are going to the coast soon?” questioned Jackson.
“Yes,” replied Lee. “Jeff Davis has requested that I go to Charleston and see what can be done to strengthen our coastal defenses.”
“You could be of greater service here in the valley,” answered Jackson. “The change of scenery and assignment will be good for you. The warmer temperature will help your body and mind. You’ll be back by spring. Something, maybe instinct, tells me you will be back and take command by spring. I’m so sure, I would like to go over some important facts that I have collected and show you a plan I have formulated for a spring campaign. It is only a rough draft. It requires your knowledge to work out the details. I have gone as far as I can.”
Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat, he removed a packet and then carefully selected from it the papers he wanted.
“Here, I have made two copies,” Jackson said, as he unfolded the papers. “One is for you and the other for me. I want you to take them to Charleston with you, study them, and let me know your thoughts.”
He unfolded the papers and laid one on the table before General Lee, the other he folded and laid to one side.
“Tom, the drawings are professional,” said Lee.
“I have gone as far as I can go,” replied Jackson. “But my whole plan centers around carrying this war to the enemy—I suggest we invade the North in the spring. Here, let me explain it to you.”
The two great men discussed the draft in detail for a short time, which seemed like an eternity to Andy. When they finished, General Lee folded his copy and placed it inside his coat pocket. Then he blew out all but one candle, which they used to light the way to their rooms.
Andy heard them wishing each a good night, but his thoughts were on the chart left on the table. There was the information he needed—left behind and forgotten. The chart and other information he had gathered along the way would definitely clear him if he could escape and deliver this information to the North.
He moved silently down the stairs, slipped through the door, and began feeling over the table surface for the papers. As his hands made contact, he heard two voices, he froze, but soon discovered that they were from two guards outside. Cautiously he retreated through the door into the hallway. Steadily he eased up the stairway and back into his room.
He was glad when he didn’t waken Molly. He knew where there were paper and quill. It was hard to write in the dark, but he wrote: