Orderlies were waiting, grabbing hold of the injured, taking them to ambulances that lined the street As each ambulance was loaded up, the driver lashed his mules forward.

No one was giving any orders as to where the men- of the Artillery Reserve should go, and Henry stopped in the middle of the street after stepping off the bridge, looking around, confused, not sure what to do next "Hunt?"

He turned and saw by the light of a torch a star on each shoulder of the man calling to him. The two saluted each other.

"I don't think you know me," the general offered, and then extended his hand, "Herman Haupt" "Railroad?"

"Yes, we met just after Second Bull Run."

Henry said nothing. Right now he couldn't remember.

‘You were in the thick of it?" Haupt asked.

"Yes, the thick of it" Henry said woodenly. "Union Mills. The charge."

Haupt reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a flask, uncorking it

'I’d better not," Henry whispered. "If I have a drink now, I think I'll pass out"

"Go ahead, you can pass out on my train."

"Your train?"

"I came up here to build this bridge and get supplies up in case the army got out" "It didn't"

"I know. But we have twenty thousand men here with Couch."

"Militia?" Henry asked.

"Yes, but it's something. Word is parts of three corps will be in here tomorrow." Henry was silent "So you saw it"

"Yes, I saw it I was at Westminster as it fell. I saw it all right"

Haupt put his arm around Henry's shoulder. "General, look at me," Haupt said softly. Henry raised his gaze and saw the coldness in Haupt's eyes.

"Lee won the battle, but he has yet to win this war. Those are your guns over there," and Haupt pointed to the batteries arrayed along the riverfront. "Some of those tubes were cast less than a week ago. The army will be rebuilt; I promise you that."

"My men, all those men," Hunt whispered.

"I know, God save them, but the Republic will endure. There will be more men and the Republic will go on; that is our strength."

Henry nodded, drawing energy from this man's determination and belief.

"You're coming back with me, Hunt"

Confused, Henry looked at the men who had followed him out of hell.

"My men."

"They'll be well taken care of. I've put the town under martial law. Every house is open to the troops for billeting. I've got three hundred head of cattle for food and enough rations to stuff every man full.

"But you, sir, I think some people in Washington will want to hear your account, Hunt. So far you are the only general, other man Hancock, who's gotten out from Union Mills."

"How is Hancock?’

"He's in that hotel right over there," Haupt said. "Word is he isn't going to live. So you're going back with me."

Henry looked at his men. "In a minute, General."

Henry walked over to the men who had suffered so much with him. They came to attention and saluted. All he could do was nod in reply; words failed him. He took the hands of several, shaking them, and then turned away.

. Ten minutes later he was aboard Haupt's train, sprawled out on a straight-back wooden seat, the alcohol unwinding him, and fast asleep.

Chapter Twenty

"Then it is settled, gendemen," Lee said, leaningbhack from the table.

Those around him, Longstreet, Hood, Stuart, the cartographer Hotchkiss, and Walter Taylor, all nodded in agreement

"I just wish I could have pushed up to that bridge in front of Harrisburg and taken it" Stuart sighed.

'The bridge is gone anyhow," Lee replied, nodding to the captured newspapers, printed in Philadelphia just yesterday, announcing that the bridge had been swept away by the rising flood waters.

Typical of most newspapers, the news was distorted or simply untrue. The lead story declared that the Army of the Potomac was totally destroyed. That was not true. Three corps, the Third, Fifth, and Eleventh, had gotten out with some semblance of command and structure intact Yes, the victory was complete, but still, their total annihilation, another Cannae or Waterloo, had eluded him. Not to detract from all that had been achieved, and he looked at the count

Nearly thirty thousand of the Army of the Potomac were now prisoners, half of them wounded. It was reported that at least another seven to eight thousand were dead. Add to that the wounded who had escaped and it was safe to estimate that close to two-thirds of the Army of the Potomac had ceased to exist but there was still a nucleus, a surviving element on the far side of the Susquehanna, enough to prevent any crossing of that river and a drive eastward toward Philadelphia.

What had been captured was beyond belief. More than two thousand wagons, enough supplies to sustain his army for a month in the held, over two hundred held pieces, though most would have to be shipped back to Richmond for repairs, over a hundred regimental colors.

He scanned the paper again. Draft riots in New York, Philadelphia under martial law, and yet also the proclamation that Vicksburg had fallen, an editor for the paper proclaiming that this Union victory in the West more than offset the losses in what was being called the Gettysburg-Westminster Campaign.

He had hoped that events of the last week would have ended it. It had not, though this campaign was a triumph beyond any ever achieved by Confederate arms. And so still it seemed that it must continue.

It had been costly. Nearly twenty thousand of his own dead, wounded, and captured, though of those captured, nearly all would be back in the ranks within days, taken back when the Union forces abandoned Gettysburg and force marched to Harrisburg.

Harrisburg… if only Stuart had been able to seize that bridge, but he knew that dream to be impossible. Stuart had done a masterful job, first demonstrating in front of Gettysburg, holding Meade's attention just long enough to allow the flanking march to continue, pushing the Union cavalry back to the east, and then turning to act as the net to sweep up prisoners. To hope that Stuart's exhausted mounts could be pushed for one final drive was beyond expectations. Exhaustion and the weather had finished the campaign for now. Stuart would maintain a division on the west side of the river to observe Harrisburg, but nothing beyond that could be hoped for now.

He looked at those gathered round him. He had officially reorganized the army this morning. General Longstreet would command the old First Corps, with Pender's and Pettigrew's divisions added to his command. Hood would leave his old division behind with Longstreet and move up to command the reorganized Second Corps. Ewell was gone, returning even now to Richmond, in command of the men from Anderson's division, who were escorting the prisoners on their long march back over the mountains to Greencastle and then Winchester. Hill was gone as well, the strong suggestion that he retire due to health finally accepted.

He looked back at the paper one more rime and opened it up. The casualty list for the Philadelphia area filled two full pages, and he shook his head. More than one of his old cadets from the Point, a comrade from Mexico, and others from the days on the frontier were listed there. He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed them.

"Sir, is there anything else?" Longstreet asked quietly.

Lee shook his head, opened his eyes, and forced a smile. "No, sir. I think it is time we started. Gentlemen, you know the order of march. Let us now see to our duty."

The group stood up, following Lee out into the street The scene before them was heart stirring. The battered veterans of McLaws's division lined the street in marching order, blanket rolls over shoulders, full haversacks and cartridge boxes, all of them with new shoes. As Lee emerged, the cry went down the line, the men snapping to attention, presenting arms, and then spontaneously the cheer erupted… "Lee… Lee… Lee!"