He had to admit it was a magnificent sight. The volley line seemed solid, no faltering in their work, flags waving back and forth. Puffs of dirt kicked up around him as spent rounds smacked into the ground and ricocheted off, his horse dancing nervously as one nicked its leg.

He pushed on, carefully watching the line, looking behind it and then he spotted the flag of the army commander. Spurring his mount for one last effort before his quarry rode off, Ely Parker of General Grant's staff galloped up and reined in hard. Sickles was surrounded by staff, giving orders, pointing to various details of the fight, one of his men holding up a rough sketch map that Sickles was examining. Without observing protocol, Ely pushed his way in.

"General Sickles, I am Colonel Parker, adjutant to General Grant."

Sickles looked over at him and actually smiled.

"In a moment, Colonel, I am busy now."

"Sir, I have been led back and forth by your staff to no avail for the last eight hours looking for you. We need to speak now, sir."

"In a moment," Sickles barked and turned away.

"Brewster, keep extending your line to the right, push it out; I want to get enfilade into their left. Now move!"

Brewster saluted and galloped off, and Dan turned to yet another officer.

"Get back to Warren, tell him to push his first division up at the double to reinforce Birney. Those men have fired sixty or more rounds; their rifles are fouled; they need to be pulled back to clean weapons, reload, get water and a few minutes' rest I want that fresh division on the line within the half hour!"

More staff galloped off. Dan snapped his fingers to yet another staff officer, who pulled out a flask and handed it over. Dan briefly hesitated, then took a drink, turning slightly as he eyed Parker. He screwed the lid back on the flask and then finally spoke.

"Well, Colonel?"

Ely glared at him coldly.

"Sir, I've been sent by General Grant. I have written orders for you to withdraw back to the north side of the river and then to report to his headquarters in Harrisburg."

Dan threw back his head and laughed.

"Should I do this right now, Colonel? This very instant?"

"Those were the orders I was to convey to you."

Dan edged his horse closer.

"Goddamn it, man, do you know how stupid you sound at this moment?"

"Sir, I am carrying orders from the commander of all Union forces in the field."

"Again, do you know how stupid, how idiotic you sound?"

"Are you calling General Grant idiotic, sir?" Ely snarled, features turning dark red.

"You're an Indian, aren't you?" Dan asked.

"What the hell does that have to do with it, sir?"

"I would think that one with your blood would enjoy a good fight. Well, my brave, you got one right here," and Dan pointed to the volley line.

"I am in the middle of an all-out fight at this moment That's Pickett over there, Stuart a couple of miles to the northwest. We are holding and we are savaging them and we will beat them. Now do you honestly expect me to order a general retreat?"

Ely said nothing. Tragically, he knew Sickles was right. The fight was on; there was no way to disengage without the threat of a rout. The long hours of delay thrown in his path had given this man enough time to get into a tangle he could not get out of, short of victory.

"General Sickles, you acted without authority; in fact you acted in direct contradiction to the plan that General Grant had laid out to you at your last conference with him. I know, sir, for I was there, if you will recall."

To his amazement, Sickles actually shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

"War changes all plans, Parker. If your Grant was here, he'd agree and order me to push in everything I had. The old plan is off and the Army of the Potomac is back in the fight and we will win this day. Now if you will excuse me, I have a battle to fight"

"General Sickles, I believe that once this affair is over, you will face an inquiry from General Grant as to the arbitrary and irresponsible nature of your actions."

"Let him. Just tell him, though, to first check with the secretary of war."

Stunned, Ely could say nothing.

"Now stay out of my way, Chief Parker. Though if you want to fight, be my guest If you want to see how the Army of the Potomac can win battles when properly led and not held back on a leash, stay and watch."

Laughing, Dan spurred his mount and rode off. Ely remained behind, oblivious to the constant whine of bullets passing overhead. There was nothing he could do now to stop this, and considering the respective skills of Lee and Sickles, he feared what was to come.

Chapter Nineteen

Battle of Gunpowder River, Maryland

August 19,1863 4:30 P.M.

Voice long since gone, Lo Armistead staggered up and down the line, limping slightly from the rifle ball or shell fragment that had creased his left leg just above the knee.

His brigade, his precious brigade, was bleeding out. A half hour ago he had committed his two reserve regiments, pushing them into the volley line, pulling his already committed regiments back one at a time to give the men ten minutes to clean their rifles, replenish ammunition, gulp down some water..and still it continued, the most sustained fire-fight he had seen across two years of war.

The smoke was a dark blanket hovering over the battlefield. The air was so thick from the humid heat combined with the smoke of battle that he was beginning to lose as many men from physical collapse as from enemy fire. Few were now standing; most of the men were hunkered down, kneeling, lying; some had stopped shooting and, with bayonets, were frantically digging in. The dead lay in almost orderly rows, most where the brigade had first engaged two hours ago; yet more were sprawled out now where the brigade had pulled back a hundred yards, back to a low crest and a fence row.

No one could see the Yankees in all the smoke, though they were still out there, the incoming rounds evidence enough of their presence. All was fire, smoke, screaming men, the maddening buzz of bullets sweeping past, the sickening thunk when one hit a man. "General Armistead!"

He looked up and to his amazement saw Pickett, still mounted, though his horse was bleeding from several wounds, the general nursing an arm in a sling. Lo wearily saluted, barely able to focus.

"You must hold this center, sir," Pickett shouted, his voice breaking, carrying a hysterical edge.

"Sir! What about our orders?" Lo cried.

"What orders?"

Lo stepped closer to Pickett's side.

"We were supposed to engage then withdraw, sir; those were our orders."

"And show our backs now?" Pickett shouted. "I'd sooner burn in hell! We've bloodied an entire corps over there, Lo, an entire corps! Hood and the rest will be up soon enough, but I'm not giving away this ground now. The blood of Virginia is on it!"

"When will we be relieved?"

Pickett shook his head.

"I'll be damned if I know. McLaws went in on our left an hour ago. Hood should be up within another hour."

"An hour? If they push now, sir, I can't promise we'll hold."

"You are talking about the honor of our division, General Armistead. We will hold!"

Pickett savagely turned his mount and rode off.

Armistead watched him ride off and shook his head. They were in a brutal head-on fight; the entire division was bleeding out. They were outnumbered, exhausted; men not down from wounds were collapsing in the boiling heat, and still George was determined to hold and to make it a point of honor.

Cursing under his breath, he resumed his walking up and down the line, oblivious, if for no other reason than exhaustion, of the continual rain of bullets and shells striking his line.