"General Meade," one of his staff hissed.

Henry turned and saw Meade riding up, headquarters' flag hanging limp in the rain, a cavalcade of several dozen staff and hangers-on following.

Henry saluted as Meade approached.

"Goddamn it all, Hunt, what do you think?"

"Sir, I won't fire unless I can see what I'm shooting at"

"I know that but what do" you think?" Meade leaned forward in his saddle, as if by drawing a few inches closer he might penetrate the gloom.

"Sir, you know, maybe we should go in now." It was Butterfield.

Meade turned and for a moment said nothing.

"They won't expect it. With luck we'll have men on the opposite slope before they open up."

Meade half nodded, his gaze shifting to Hunt "What do you think?"

"About going in now sir?"

"Yes, now."

Henry was caught by surprise on that one. Ever since yesterday morning he had been preparing for this moment And now Meade himself was proposing a departure from the plan. But then again, it did have some merit. A surprise assault out of the mists, might turn things. But were the men ready for it? They had been told there would be the bombardment first to suppress the rebel lines.

"I think it might have merit" Henry finally replied.

'This from my artilleryman?" Meade asked.

"Sir, guns against entrenched positions… well, you saw the effect at Fredericksburg. We pounded them for hours with little effect Artillery against prepared positions is a tough job."

"The range was twice as far then."

"I know, sir."

Meade was silent again, and then finally shook his head. "Except for a few officers, none of our men have seen the layout They'll get tangled up, lost in that mist. Besides, the Rebs will hear us anyhow. I don't like the thought of them getting lost out there in the fog with the Rebs pouring it in."

Meade looked back at Hunt. "Don't you have confidence in this, Hunt?"

"I'll do the best I can, sir. Just that the element of surprise might work."

"Surprise?" Meade barked out a gruff laugh. "Goddamn, what surprise? He knows we're coming just as sure as I do. No, I want a clear field. I want every gun pouring in on them to shake them loose. I want every man to see where it is he's going. I did that at Fredericksburg. My division was the only one that got into their lines, and I would have broken them if that damned ass Burnside had supported me."

He fixed Hunt with an angry gaze. "If I could do it at Fredericksburg with a division, I'll do it here today with four corps going in. You open up, Hunt when you can see the bastards. I'll leave that up to you. And you tell me as well when it is time to go in."

"Sir?"

"Do you have any problems with that?"

"Sir, it's not for me to judge when to go in. I can only advise as to the effect of my bombardment. But the order to go in or not, well, sir, that's up to you."

"Just do what I order you to do, Hunt" Meade snapped, and without comment he rode on.

Henry shook his head. There was no sense in arguing about protocol now.

Leaning against the wheel of a ten-pound Parrott gun, he waited for the mist to clear.

"General Lee?"

It was a courier from Ewell, his inquiry a whisper.

Walter, who had fallen asleep on one of the pews in front of the tent, half opened his eyes and sat up, putting a finger to his lips.

"He's asleep," Walter whispered, pointing to the tent behind him.

"I've got a dispatch from Ewell." "I'll take it."

"I was told to bring a reply."

"He needs his sleep," Walter hissed softly. "Now wait over there."

He pointed toward the blacksmith shop, where many of the staff had sought shelter during the night His own orders had been strict and without compromise. Unless the entire operation was going to hell, Lee was not to be disturbed. Sentries had been posted along the road ordering strict silence for everyone who passed during the night

He then posted himself in front of Lee's tent the cook first helping him to set up a tarpover the pews to at least give him some shelter.

He unfolded the dispatch. Ewell was reporting that the road back from Taneytown had been cut a brigade of Union cavalry from the south taking Emmitsburg.

Walter thought about it for the moment. Their supply trains were parked over the mountain at Greehcastle, protected by two brigades of cavalry, and would now retire back to Falling Waters on the banks of the Potomac River. That should be sufficient; besides, the captured supplies at Westminster made our own reserves look miniscule in comparison. Hie only drawback, communications back down to Virginia were cut Ironic, both armies were now cut off from their capitals.

Walter actually smiled. Would this trigger a panic in Richmond as well? Probably not Davis was not used to the kind of telegraphic leash Lincoln could keep his generals on. And Richmond had far more faith in General Lee's ability to bring a miracle forth than the Union had in all its generals combined. No, Richmond would be anxious and curious but not panicked or desperate. Well, at least there will be no dispatches to trouble Lee. Let him sleep.

Walter stood up. All around was cloaked in fog, rain slashing down. All was silent Good. Let him sleep a few more minutes.

Lee heard the soft exchange outside his tent He'd been awake for nearly an hour, quietly going over the plan, eyes half closed, listening to the drumming of rain on the canvas.

They love me. That thought struck him with a sharp intensity. Walter keeping watch outside throughout the rainy night the stage-whispered commands from the road for those passing by to keep quiet because "Lee is sleeping."

Today is the Fourth of July. He had a memory of childhood. Old men gathering at the house while he sat quietly to one side, listening as they talked of Washington, of the cold of Valley Forge, the heat of Monmouth, the triumph of York-town. I thought them to be giants, men who had shaped the world to their vision and desires.

What would they say of me now, leading this war to divide the nation they created?

He had settled that argument long ago, at least he thought he had. It is not us, but they, those people on the other side who had drifted from the intent of the Fathers. We are now defending that heritage, not they. We represent the Founding Fathers' intent of a nation of states, not a centralized dictatorship of one government

And yet what would they say then to all of us squabbling children, tearing apart the dream they had created. I cannot change that now. I am on the path set before me and cannot waver from it Afterward, perhaps afterward we can find some way to sit down, to talk, perhaps to heal.

He thought of his boy in prison. Even now old friends will look out for him, while I; here this day, shall kill the comrades of those friends.

How many will die this day? How many a boy stirring in camp at this moment is awakening to his final day?

He swung his legs off the cot, moving quietly so Walter would not hear, stifling a groan, his legs and back stiff. He knelt on the damp ground and lowered his head, hands clasped in prayer.