Tears came to the boy's eyes. "God bless you, sir," he stammered and men, embarrassed at his impetuous act he fled.

Walter looked back and Lee just motioned for him to leave and close the door.

Alone, Lee sat down in a pew, and leaning forward he clasped his hands, resting his forehead upon them.

Walter Taylor stood outside the church, arms folded, guarding the door. A small crowd had garnered, curious civilians, wounded soldiers, staff, even a few Union prisoners, disarmed, standing in the rain.

He waited and as the minutes passed, he finally became concerned. Throughout that long day he had watched his general almost like a child, now an adult keeping a watchful gaze over an aging parent Three times during that final drive into Littlestown, he had been compelled to hold the general back, for the fire was in him as he drove Pickett forward, directing the battle, reeling from exhaustion as they finally broke into the town and gained the road that cut off the Union line of retreat

Finally, after a half hour of waiting, he felt a flicker of fear. Motioning for the cavalry escort to block the door, he slowly opened it and stepped back into the church.

There was a terrible flash of terror. Lee was slumped over, head resting against the next pew. Taylor carefully walked up, about to cry out In the candlelight Lee looked so deathly pale.

He stood by the general's side, not sure for a moment what to do. "Sir?" he whispered. There was no response.

Ever so gently he reached out, touching Lee on the shoulder, terrified that when he did so Lee would just simply collapse.

Leaning over, he finally heard a gentle respiration.

Walter stood there for a moment and then began to weep. Taking off his rain-soaked jacket, he balled it up, placing it on the pew by Lee's side. Ever so gently he put his arms around his general and eased him over on his side, the jacket now a pillow. Stepping next to the pew, he lifted the old man's legs and carefully stretched them out.

Lee stirred for a moment "Roonie," he whispered.

"He'll be all right sir," Walter whispered back. "Your boy will be all right"

Lee did not stir, lost in exhausted sleep.

Going up to the altar, Walter blew out the two candles. Sitting down in the pew across from his general, Walter Taylor kept vigil throughout the long night.

And thus the Fourth of July, 1863, came to an end.

LlTTLESTOWN

It had been a long night the longest of his life, General Longstreet at the head of the column of Pender's division, led the way up the main street of Littlestown. The road to either side was packed to overflowing with troops, both Confederate and Union. The men of Johnson's division cheered his approach, and at that moment it touched him profoundly.

These were the veterans of Stonewall, and across the last year-since the Army of the Valley had fallen in with the ranks of what would become the Army of Northern Virginia-he had always sensed a certain haughtiness on their part, that they saw their leader, "Old Jack,” as the superior of Lee's two lieutenants.

That was gone this morning. Men saluted at his approach, then took off their hats, shouting and waving. Behind him the mud-spattered boys of Pender marched with a jaunty swagger, returning the cheers. A group of Hood's men, drawn up in a small column, each of the men carrying a captured battle flag, fell into the line of march to resounding cheers.

The disarmed Union prisoners, part of a long column of troops now being marched back toward Westminster, had been pushed to die side of the road. They looked up at him, some with open hatred, most with that vague, shocked, distant look of troops who had seen and endured far too much. An officer in their midst stepped forward a pace and saluted.

Pete hesitated, looking down. It was Maj. Gen. Abner Doubleday, left arm in a sling, a comrade from an eternity ago, a fellow graduate of the class of 1842.

"Abner, sorry to see you're hurt," Pete said. "How are you?"

"That was you I faced yesterday at Union Mills, wasn't it, Pete?"

"Yes, Abner"

"A long way from West Point now, aren't we?" "Yes, Abner."

'And the pledge you made mere to our flag." Pete could not reply.

"Abner, if you need anything, let me know, send for me."

Abner shook his head. "No, Pete, I won't"

"I'm sorry, Abner."

"So am I, Pete. So am I."

Pete drew up, saluted, and rode on.

Hospital flags, hanging sodden and limp in the morning rain, were draped in the doorways of churches and school-houses. Every house in town was a hospital as well. Union and Confederate surgeons and orderlies, working side by side, tended to the wounded. Women of the town scurried back and forth, carrying buckets of water, torn-up bedsheets, and blankets.

A grim sight hung in the center of town, a dead Confederate soldier at the end of a rope slung over a tree limb… ATTEMPTED ASSAULT OF A WOMAN was written on the sign draped around his broken neck, two provost guards standing beneath the corpse.

The men marching behind Pete fell silent at the sight of him, more than one spitting on the ground at the feet of the dead man as they passed.

Passing through the town, the column worked its way up a low hill, an orderly waiting for them atop the crest, motioning for Pete to follow his lead.

As they crested the ridge, the sight spread out before him was breathtaking. The fields north of town had become a vast holding area for thousands of prisoners, a long, serpentine column of them now marching along the side of the road in the opposite direction, heading south.

And there was Lee.

Pete spurred his mount, covering the last few yards, grinning in spite of his exhaustion, snapping off a salute as he approached.

Gathered round Lee were Taylor, Hood, and dozens of others. The rain picked up, the sky dark and sullen; but around Lee, at this moment, there almost seemed to be a strange golden light

"General Longstreet it does my heart good to see that you are safe," Lee said, riding up the last few feet to him, warmly extending his hand, which Longstreet took.

Pete did not know what to say.

"You were magnificent General. This victory is to your credit sir."

"No, sir," and Longstreet started to fumble, embarrassed, "it is yours, sir. Let me congratulate you for this, your greatest victory."

"You were the one who first proposed it"

'It was merely a suggestion, sir. It was your leadership that inspired it"

Lee smiled. "We'll argue about that later."

Longstreet lowered his head, not sure what to say.

'1 just received a report from General Pickett," Lee said. "He is stalled just outside of Gettysburg due to the rain, but reports that their Eleventh Corps, and what is left of the Third, have abandoned die town and are moving toward Carlisle."

"They're trying for the river, for Harrisburg most likely," Longstreet replied.

"My thoughts exactly, General. We will pursue them of course. I understand the bridges there are all down, burned by them last week. If this rain continues, Stuart might pin what is left of the Union forces against the Susquehanna and finish that as well."

Pete nodded.

"And Washington?"

"In due course, General. We've cast our net wide," and as he spoke he nodded to the prisoners marching past, "but it is safe to say that maybe thirty thousand of their forces, perhaps more, have broken out We know their Third Corps, as well as what is left of the Fifth and Eleventh, are back in Gettysburg. I hope we can still pin those. Elements of their cavalry are largely intact, though scattered, and will serve as rallying points for those who are fleeing. That is our first goal, to finish their army.