Pete smiled.

He'll maneuver now, most likely to our left and come in again on ground he hopes is clear. And he will soon have a lot of friends to help him if the rest of the Union army is now on the way to recapture Westminster and re-establish a line of communication with Washington. This was only the first bloody probe of what could be a long couple of days. The rest of our army had better get here if we are to hold this line against the entire Union army.

Several of the men were up and out of the trench, one of them waving a dirty handkerchief in one hand, a canteen in the other, heading down to help the tangle of bleeding men in the road.

We kill each other and then turn right around and risk our lives to save each other. A strange war, Pete thought

The Yankees in the mill began to fire, not at the good Samaritans, but aiming to the crest, at Longstreet and the men around him.

He raised his glasses and for a moment thought he caught a glimpse of Hancock on the other side of the bridge.

You'll be back, Pete thought, next time on my flank and with more guns. Always you'll have more guns than we do. So we dig in and pray for reinforcements.

He looked to the west. Hill's divisions were still not in view, and beyond, from over by Taneytown, the gunfire echoed.

Herman Haupt set the brake on the engine and wearily leaned over a moment, head resting on the side of the cab. He looked back at Major Beveridge, who was slumped over in the wood tender, cradling his wounded arm.

"Major, could you please see to the wounded aboard? Roust someone out at the station to get ambulances."

Beveridge nodded.

"And take care of my friend there," Haupt added, nodding toward the body of die engineer. The man had died only minutes before, his last moments unnerving as he lapsed into delirium and kept calling for his wife.

His legs shaky, Haupt stepped down from the cab and started across the rail yard toward the signal station. All around him was chaos. The engines he had sent back down from Westminster were parked in a row, some with wounded still on board, a sight that angered him since they had most likely been here for at least a half hour. A dozen more engines were lined up, loaded down with supplies, barrels of rations, crates of ammunition, half a dozen guns on flatcars, and now with no place to go. Men of his command, spotting their leader, came running up, shouting questions, asking for orders, and he waved them aside, the men falling in behind him, trailing along as he stepped into the signal office, the lone telegrapher hunched over, writing down a message as it came in. Herman waited patiently. There was nothing ruder than to start talking to a telegrapher at work; it was a protocol that anyone in the railroad business learned rather quickly. You might be the president of the company, or a general; but when a message was coming in, you were silent

The key stopped clattering, and the operator looked- up. "Thank God you are here, sir," the boy gasped. "I've been getting queries from the War Office every fifteen minutes demanding to know where you are."

"Clear the line for a priority " Haupt said.

The telegrapher rested his fingers on the keys and started to tap out the signal ordering all other operators to stay off the line.

A moment later he looked up at Haupt and nodded. Haupt was already writing the message down, and he handed the sheet over.

To General Halleck

War Department, Washington

Sir. At seven this morning Westminster fell to Confederate forces of at least division strength. Supplies set afire, but must assume significant amount will be captured, enough for the enemy to sustain operations for at least a week or more. Hundreds, perhaps thousand or more wagons, fully loaded, captured as well Believe attack is supported by Longstreet's entire corps.

Last communication with Army of Potomac received shortly after dawn, from Hancock, reporting army was moving from Gettysburg to Westminster.

I am proceeding to Washington and will report on arrival.

Haupt

The message went out, and Haupt turned to the men gathered round him.

"Sir, it's a mad panic in town," a captain announced. "Damn mule drivers came storming in here at dawn, screaming the Rebs were right behind them. Pro-Union civilians are already clamoring to get on trains to get out, while others are supposedly hanging out rebel flags. Hundreds of drunks and copperheads are tearing up downtown. Several have been shot Sir, is Lee coming here like they say?"

Haupt shook his head. '1 saw no cavalry up at Westminster. I think Lee will hold there."

"Why, sir? He could have all this, if he wanted it There ain't an organized regiment in the entire city at the moment"

"First the Army of the Potomac. That's what Lee will go for. He will want to destroy it before he turns toward us, and that's what we have to get ready for next"

Haupt turned and looked at the rail-line map pinned to the wall of the station. It was most likely overstepping his bounds, but he sensed he had better act and do it now. To simply leave these trains here in Baltimore was a waste.

He looked back at his men.

"I want the line cleared up to Philadelphia. Get ready to move everything we have up there." "Philadelphia, sir?"

"From there to Harrisburg. I think that is where we'll be needed most"

The men saluted and started to scramble. He saw a pot of coffee sitting on a small wood stove. The fire was out, the day far too hot to have the brew warming. He took a tin cup from the windowsill, poured it full, and drank the black syrup down cold, the drink jolting him awake.

"Get me an express down to Washington," Haupt snapped.

"We're going in!"

The cry was like a shock from a galvanic battery. Joshua Chamberlain, half dozing in the midday heat, back against a lone elm tree in the corner of a field, was instantly awake and standing up, as one of Vincent's staff officers galloped through their ranks, waving his hat

The struggle for Taneytown, less than half a mile away, continued to rage, the battle lines that had surged into the edge of town wreathed in smoke, soaring pillars of smoke and fire marking where part of the town, including a church, burned. The air pulsed with the roar of battle; and yet amazingly, here in reserve, only hundreds of yards away, he had actually dozed off, ignorant of the occasional bullets slapping into the tree branches over his head, the men of his command hunkered down behind a low barrier made from a split-rail fence. It wouldn't stop the random shells that winged overhead, but it could at least absorb the stray bullet

The staff officer raced down the line of four regiments, men standing up as he passed.

"Is this it Lawrence?"

Joshua looked over at his brother, Tom, now a company commander. The boy was all eagerness, nervously fumbling to button his uniform up so that he looked "proper" for what was to come.

"We wait for Colonel Vincent" Joshua replied calmly.

The men of his command looked over anxiously at Joshua. He extended one hand in almost a soothing gesture. Several of the men sat back down.

The heat was oppressive, the air thick with humidity made worse by the choking clouds of smoke, which slowly twisted and coiled on the field. The place they were resting had been hotly contested only a couple of hours ago, and the field around them was littered with the dead. In the area where they had halted, at least half a hundred wounded of both sides were piled around the broken-down fence.