Ammunition reserves were also seriously depleted. While no major battle had yet been fought, there had been a score of minor ones like the cavalry brawl fought today. Again, without captured Union stores, the ammunition brought with them was the ammunition they would live and die with. Grant had proven too damned smart in that he had placed his depots well to the rear and in friendly territory. Knollys wondered just how much the loss of the ammunition supplies sunk by the Union Monitor at Hampton Roads would cost. Dearly, he felt.
He would write to Rosemarie and tell her of his problems. Mail service to and from the South was inconsistent at best thanks to Union patrols that operated in their rear, but messages still sometimes got through. She was an astonishingly pragmatic woman, which was one of the reasons he realized he cared for her. He owed it to her to tell her the truth about Lees campaign. The depressing fact was that, unless Lee performed some magic, or Grant did something incredibly stupid, the combined Anglo-Confederate armies would have to withdraw.
Sadly, he did not think Grant was stupid.
Colored pins and pieces of paper were attached to the large map of Pennsylvania on the wall of a small room on the ground floor of the White House. They represented the sum knowledge of the War Department as to the movements of the armies seeking each other in Pennsylvania.
The pins purported to show the latest news, but they were often wildly inaccurate. The Union forces were shown where they had been several hours earlier, and where they had been when someone remembered to report the information to Washington. Still, those pins and papers that showed Grant were far more accurate than those that represented Lee. These were estimates made by scouts and civilian informers, and might not be accurate. For instance, did one symbol identified on the map as being Stonewall Jackson actually represent his whole corps or just part? Or was the whole report wrong? Or even a falsehood planted by the rebels? As he stared at the map. Nathan allowed that he was glad he wasn't Grant and didn't have to deal with the possibility of an error that could prove catastrophic.
Yet some basic truths could be gleaned from the pattern of pins. They showed that Lee's army had crossed the Potomac north and west of Washington, and then marched north while Grant's armies shadowed it and stayed between it and the large cities that were Lee's apparent goal.
So far the strategy had worked. The Confederates had marched over a great deal of ground but had not taken anyplace of consequence. It did not appear that Lee was in the mood for a prolonged siege of any target, and General Scott was of the opinion that the Confederate general didn't have the resources to conduct such a siege.
Earlier in the day. Scott had given a particularly pedantic lecture in which he compared Lee to Hannibal and Grant to the Roman general Fabius, who had confronted the Carthaginian in a war well before the time of Christ. According to Scott, Fabius had rightly ascertained that Hannibal had no siege train and, therefore, would not attack cities. Thus, Hannibal was permitted to roam the countryside while pinprick battles weakened him and set the stage for his final defeat.
In history, Fabius had been castigated by wealthy Romans for letting Hannibal burn and pillage for years. Similarly, the population of Pennsylvania saw no grand strategy from Grant, only burned farms and ruined crops. Pennsylvania's Governor Andrew Curtin had called for Grant to be replaced by someone who would fight Lee and stop him. So far, Lincoln had shown faith in Grant.
Scott had reminded the president that, in Hannibal's day, Fabius had been replaced by a more aggressive general who had promptly been defeated. Is that what Lincoln wanted? Lincoln had assured Scott that it was not what he wanted, and that Grant's position was safe. With an impish twinkle in his eye, Lincoln then asked Scott if it was true that General Scott knew so much about Fabius because he had served with him?
Nathan recalled Scott's astonished reaction with a grin. Even the dour Halleck had cracked a smile.
“Everything to your liking, Nathan?” General Scott had entered the room quietly.
“Not as long as Lee is to our north, General.”
“Are you saying you doubt Grant?”
“No.” Nathan sighed. “I only wish it was over with. There is something frustrating about avoiding battle, even though I know that Grant is wearing Lee down. It's almost like a Chinese torture.”
“Which one is that, Nathan? The Chinese have so many tortures and they are all so marvelous,” Scott said with a smile. He had just come from another private conference with Lincoln.
“Sir, I'm thinking of the one where they incur a thousand small cuts on a victim's body. Taken individually, not one is dangerous or even particularly painful. Cumulatively, they will drive a man mad and eventually kill him.”
“And this is what Grant is doing?”
“Certainly.” Nathan replied. 'There have been a score of small battles, and a hundred skirmishes. Lee is bleeding from each one and using up supplies he can’t replace. Perhaps a better analogy would be a Mexican bullfight, where the mighty animal is weakened by small spears and then finally dispatched by the matador's sword. Soon Lee will weaken if he hasn't begun to already. He has lost men, ammunition, and supplies. Soon he will turn and then retreat south.”
Scott checked a clock on the wall. It's late and I'm tired. We need to get home. I need sleep and you should be with your lovely Rebecca. But tell me. What do you think Lee will do when he begins to retreat?”
Nathan pushed thoughts of Rebecca out of his mind. “That's the troubling part. I don't know what he will do. But I don't think he'll go peaceably back to the South. I think he'll be like that pain-maddened bull confronted by the matador. I think Lee will be more dangerous to us than at anytime in this campaign.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FORT STEPHENS WAS one of two score forts that ringed the city of Washington. It consisted of thick, low earthen walls that were pierced by gun ports housing the largest cannon available. As they were not intended to be moved, the guns could be the largest built by the foundries of the North.
The fort was a squat and malevolent scar on what had been an otherwise pleasant land. The trees that had stood before it had been chopped down to provide a clear field of fire for Stephens's defenders. The same was true for all the other fortifications that protected Washington. Trees that had stood for decades had been reduced to kindling.
Between the forts were lines of trenches, rifle pits, and emplacements for individual guns. Fields of fire overlapped each other, and the trenches were wide enough to handle two ranks of massed infantry. The effect was to reinforce the notion that Washington was the most heavily fortified city on the face of the earth. Richmond, the capital of the Confederacy, was deemed a close second.
Washington was also the largest prison.
Abraham Lincoln stood behind one of the giant cannon and looked north into Maryland. In the distance, he imagined that he could see Pennsylvania. Once these had been friendly lands, but now they were occupied by Lee's Confederates. Only temporarily, he had been assured, but the fact remained that they were held by the enemy. The president of the United States was a prisoner in Washington.
Oh, he could flee to Baltimore or Philadelphia like so many members of Congress had, but he felt it was his duty to remain in his nation’s capital. He had been castigated for skulking into Washington prior to his inauguration, and had vowed never to take part in a similar travesty. No, his duty was in Washington.
Lincoln climbed onto the earthen parapet and looked around. Like lemmings, several of his entourage accompanied him, along with a handful of grinning soldiers from the garrison. As always, Lincoln wore a dark suit and a top hat that made him look seven feet tall instead of six foot four.