She stood frozen, as if horrified by her outburst. The pitcher dropped, shattering on the porch floor. All were silent, and she looked around at the Confederate staff, the Union wounded.

"Put an end to this!" she screamed, and then, gathering up her apron to cover her face, she fled back into the house. Her black servant watched her go, gazed upon Lee for a moment, then turned back to the Union soldier she was tending, lifting his head up, cradling it in her lap, and, leaning over, she began to whisper in his ear. And Lee could hear, ever so faintly, her words

'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…"

He lowered his head again, filled with remorse, exhaustion, even a sense of loathing for all he had seen this day, this day of yet another victory. He finally raised his head and looked down toward the Chesapeake.

Thousands of Yankee soldiers were swarming down into the bay, the docks at a small port filled with them. Along the low heights, scattered commands were coming up from his own army. He had lost sight of Beauregard long ago, within the first ten minutes after the attack had swept into the flank of their Fifth Corps, but he knew that the man had proven himself today, driving with relentless passion, as if eager to assure beyond all doubt his ability to lead, even when General Lee commanded the field.

An hour after they had struck the flank, the entire Union formation began to give way, and then just collapsed. The shock of the surprise blow had been part of it. He knew that the weather had played to him as well. The heat was killing. Chances were that when the tally was finally done, maybe one out of five of the dead would be found with no mark upon them. But in that moment, when some believed victory was near, and others faced defeat, exhaustion created by the heat would drive those filling with despair over the edge.

The Fifth had broken, but their disengagement had been masterful, their General Sykes yet again guiding his men out of the trap, pushing relentlessly back northward, back toward the shelter of Perryville and the gunboats on the Susquehanna.

As for their Third and Sixth Corps, they were into the sack now, swarming down to the broad, open bay. Many were casting aside their guns, if for no other reason than to dive into the tepid waters of the bay to seek some relief.

Someone had already ordered up a rescue force. Dozens of small boats were coming into the dock to take off the broken Army of the Potomac; a lone gunboat was visible, coming down the bay.

He sat back in the chair, saying nothing, watching the spectacle as his men, all formation gone, pushed down toward the water.

He saw General Longstreet riding up and breathed a sigh of relief. Longstreet dismounted and his face was filled with concern as he stepped on to the porch and took his hat off.

"Are you all right, sir?" Longstreet gasped.

"Just the heat, General. I'll be fine in a minute."

"Sir, you are staying put right here for the rest of the day," Walter Taylor announced forcefully. "I know your surgeon will order it once he comes up."

Lee nodded his head in agreement As he had ordered Longstreet to protect himself, he knew he should do the same at this moment.

"Sir, I can see to what is left," Longstreet said.

Lee nodded.

"What did it cost, Pete?" Lee whispered.

Longstreet lowered his head, looking over at the Yankee soldiers on the porch only feet away from them.

"Go on, General. They are our guests for the moment; talk freely."

Longstreet found that, as he spoke, he could not look at Lee; instead his gaze was fixed on those who had faced them this day.

"They fought us with reckless courage, sir. I've never seen anything like it before. Word is that General Sickles lost a leg. We might capture him, I'm not sure.

"I cannot speak for what you saw against the Fifth Corps, sir. But their Third and Sixth, when they knew they were trapped, fought it out to the end. I think we'll bag most of them down there," and he pointed to the bay, "but, General, it was a bloody, costly fight. We might have lost another five, maybe eight thousand more than yesterday."

Lee lowered his head, the shock of his losses a visceral blow. Why did each victory have to be so costly? Combined with yesterday, maybe ten thousand or more gone from the ranks.

He sighed, wiping his face, and then leaned back, grateful for the cooling water that had been poured down his neck and back.

He looked over at the wounded Yankees, who gazed at him, some warily, some with hatred, some with respect. A major, catching his eye, stood up and formally saluted. The man grimaced with pain, clutching his side with a bloody rag. Lee rose up and walked over to him, returning the salute.

"General Lee?" the major asked weakly.

"Yes, I am he."

The major nodded, saying nothing.

"You are sorely hurt, sir," Lee said. "Please sit down; my medical staff will see to you shortly."

"I'll be fine," the major whispered. "I want my men taken care of first. Just assure me of that, sir; it is all that I ask."

"Major, I am sorry for your injury. I will pray that you return safely to your family."

"Thank you, General. Just take care of my men. They're good soldiers."

"I know they are good soldiers; you should be proud of them." He said the words loud enough so that all on the porch could hear.

"I regret the divisions that force us to fight each other now. I hope, sir, when this is over, we can again be friends."

The major swayed slightly, then stiffened.

"Major, rest assured your men will be treated with honor. As quickly as arrangements can be made, all of the men of the Army of the Potomac, wounded or not, will be paroled and exchanged. Till then, the kind owner of this house and my medical staff will look after you."

"Thank you, sir," the major whispered. An elderly sergeant stood up and came to the major's left, protectively putting an arm around his side, and helping him to sit back down.

Lee turned away and walked back to Pete, motioning him to fall in by his side.

"We can't handle twenty thousand or more prisoners," Lee said softly. "I can't detail more men off as escorts to take them South. I'll have Walter find a printing press, we'll run off parole notes, and let those people go. The exchange can free thousands of our boys now held up in Elmira and Camp Douglas."

Pete nodded in agreement.

"Unfortunately, the men we will get back with the exchange will not be fit to fight immediately."

"I don't care about that, though I wish it were different. We must make the gesture; besides, it is the only thing we can do now."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for your efforts this day, General Longstreet. This time you were the anvil, and you've gained us another brilliant victory."

"The cost though," Pete sighed. "I am leaning toward relieving George of his command. He badly mishandled his division yesterday."

"General Longstreet, we walk a fine line, at times, between daring and foolhardiness. We praise when it works; we blame when it doesn't. Maybe it could be said that General Pickett's actions emboldened Sickles to press forward into the trap, maybe not. I suspect that will be yet another issue historians will argue about long after we are gone. I'll review the issue later when we have time, look at the ground, talk to Armistead and the other brigade commanders, then decide."

"Yes, sir."

"It is Grant now that we must think of." Pete smiled.

"This will put a twist in his tail."

"Yes, but the question is, How will he jump now that his tail is twisted?"

"I think, sir, he just might hold north of the Susquehanna. He's lost maybe upward of a third of his total available field force this day. I think the assumption was fair that he planned to move in a concentrated manner: Sickles along the Chesapeake to hold our attention while he crossed over the South Mountains and sought to engage us. After this he might very well hold back till spring to build up sufficient force."