There was some grumbling, but all three of the corps commanders knew the issue was closed.

"The army has orders in for the necessary pontoon boats with shipbuilders on the Hudson and along Lake Erie. Filling the order is relatively easy, but they are big, cumbersome affairs and only ten will fit on a train. I should have them down here though, at least enough for two bridges within three weeks."

"Good work, Haupt," Grant said. "Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. Railroading equipment."

"Railroading equipment?" Burnside asked, a bit surprised. "For what railroad?"

Haupt looked over at Grant, who nodded his approval.

"The Cumberland Valley Railroad ran from here clear down to Hagerstown," Haupt said.

"That's gone now," McPherson replied. "I understand the rebs are tearing up the rails, hauling them south to repair their own lines."

"If, gentlemen, and I have to emphasize the word 'if,'" Haupt continued, "our primary axis of advance is down the Cumberland, I propose to repair the line as rapidly as possible. The rebs cannot destroy the grading. As for every bridge on the line, fortunately the management of that line has records stored here in Harrisburg, so we have the specifications, and I'm ordering replacement bridges to be precut and ready to be loaded for the entire length of the line. I believe that if we advance down the Cumberland Valley, within two weeks we can have the entire line up and running again as long as I have the necessary manpower of trained personnel."

"You'll have them," Grant said sharply. "We must have a couple of thousand men in our ranks who've worked the rails before the war; we can temporarily detach them."

"That's a lot of manpower," Burnside interjected.

"Well spent," Haupt replied. "Twenty trains a day on that line could sustain the army while it advanced, cutting down drastically on our need for wagons and mules. I'm stockpiling over a hundred miles of track, twenty thousand ties, material for water tanks and switching. The Cumberland line managed to get five of its locomotives back here before the bridge was burned, and we'll get additional rolling stock and locomotives from the Pennsylvania and the Reading. The bridge a dozen miles above Marysville is still intact to the west shore, thank God, so we can run supplies directly down to you once the campaign starts.

"If, and again I'm only saying if, the campaign takes us down to the Potomac, once into Harper's Ferry, your new supply line can run out of the west from the Baltimore and Ohio. I'm stockpiling replacement bridges for that line as well. I only wish I had enough men and material. I think I could throw a connecting line from Hagerstown across down to the B amp;O in less than a month if I had five thousand men."

"We'll see," Grant said with a smile.

This man was the type of soldier he liked, and he was amazed that Haupt's skills were never fully appreciated here in the East. Haupt had only confessed to him the day before that he had been seriously contemplating retiring from the army, fed up with its bureaucracy and backstabbing. Fortunately Grant had been able to convince him to stay on to the end of the campaign, promoted him to major general, and given him complete control of all military operations on all railroads in the country.

And Haupt was indeed right. If the campaign did take them to the Potomac and beyond, it would be worth the effort to run a railroad track from Hagerstown the twenty miles to a hookup with the Baltimore and Ohio. Such an accomplishment would give him a link from Harrisburg to Harper's Ferry, and from there clear down to the Shenandoah Valley, linking as well back to the Midwest. It was the type of project undreamed of five years ago, to run a line twenty miles in one month, solely for the purpose of supporting an army in the field. Today, if need be, it could be done, and if he gave the order, it would be done. "Other supplies?" Grant asked.

Haupt stood silent for a moment and seemed to sway. Grant looked over nervously at Elihu Washburne, who sat quietly, unobtrusively, in the corner of the tent. Elihu and Haupt had formed quite a bond over the last month. The way Haupt had stood up to Stanton had won his admiration, along with the wonders he had created in terms of bringing this army together.

Elihu shook his head.

"Perhaps later, General Haupt."

"No, sir. Just a minute more, and then, yes, I think you will have to excuse me."

Haupt took a deep breath, sweat glistening on his face.

"Ammunition. Enough stockpiled now for a strong defensive action but sustainable for only two days at most. Just over one hundred rounds per man in the ranks, two caissons of assorted solid shot, shell, and canister for the field pieces. The "suppliers in New York and Massachusetts are working twenty-four hours a day, and we should be up to the levels you will need in four weeks as well.

"Artillery. You have a hundred and ten pieces with you now, a mix of Napoleons, three-inch ordnance rifles, and Parrotts, two batteries of twenty-pounders, and one battery of thirty-pounders. Again, you should have a hundred more guns in a month."

"Billy Sherman is up to his ears in guns," Ord interjected. "He must have three hundred pieces with him between the guns we left behind and the ordnance captured at Vicksburg."

'Too difficult to ship now. I'd rather use the shipping for horses and get the guns from New York," Haupt replied.

"What about all that artillery still down in Mississippi?" Ord asked. "Surely Sherman can't use all of it?"

"I told him, if it's a burden, put what he can on boats to haul north and dump the rest in the Mississippi," Grant replied coolly.

No one spoke. Such a profligate waste of material, perfectly good field guns, shocked none of them anymore. If the guns were dumped, others could be made.

"Rations?" Grant asked.

"That's going ahead of schedule; it's convenient that we are near Philadelphia and New York. Hardtack is almost up to the level to support us for a month in the field, the same with salted pork, coffee, sugar, tobacco, tea. Farmers from as far away as Berks County to the east are driving in herds of cattle and swine; we'll have a good supply of food on the hoof. Medical supplies as well are more than sufficient."

He hesitated for a moment and again seemed to sway.

"I talked with the head of your medical corps this morning. Hospitals sufficient for twenty thousand casualties will be constructed here in Harrisburg. Mostly open-sided sheds and tents to start; bedding is being shipped in; volunteer nurses are being recruited through that Miss Barton that everyone is talking about."

Twenty thousand casualties. No one spoke. Though they were hardened by the campaign for Vicksburg and even Shiloh, the sheer magnitude of so many wounded and sick was still daunting, but after Union Mills, the larger number had to be anticipated.

"Another reason I want the railroad repaired," Grant interjected. "We had hospital boats for our wounded at Vicksburg. Hauling wounded men back on a hundred miles of dirt road would be a nightmare."

"The other supplies-ether, chloroform, morphine, medical tools, stretchers, bandages, splints, crutches-all of it should be in place."

Haupt fell silent and looked over at Grant.

Grant could see that the man was about to have another violent attack.

"General Haupt, you are excused, sir, and please, will you get yourself over to my doctor and then take some rest?"

"Yes, sir," Haupt gasped and, bent over slightly at the waist, he staggered out of the tent.

Grant followed him with his gaze. Over two years of war he had learned to become hard when it came to the using of men. He had looked into the eyes of far too many, knew he was ordering them to their deaths or the destruction of their commands, and then told them to go, never hesitating, never showing sentiment. War had no room for that, no matter what it might do inside his heart. Haupt was valuable, far too valuable to use up, but it was obvious that the dysentery that was tormenting him was beginning to drain his life away. And yet he had to continue to use him rather than order him back to a hospital in the rear. He had tried that once, and the following morning he had found the man in the telegraphy station, dictating orders as fast as four scribes could take them down, his mind some sort of strange calculating machine that could not stop whirling.