Several men rushed to pull the flag from Robinson's hand, but the general holstered his pistol and knelt down by his side.

"You can keep your flag, Sergeant. You're one of the bravest men I've ever seen. You got farther than any other man in your army, but for you the war is over."

Sergeant Major Robinson looked up at him, unable to speak. All he could do was nod.

"My surgeon will tend to you, and I'll make sure you get home."

General Hancock patted him on his good shoulder, then stood up and limped off.

5:15 P.M.

Lee stood silently, head bowed. The charge was over before it had barely begun. He knew in his heart he had asked far too much of these men. Rest, ranks replenished, officers replaced, the men well fed, perhaps it might have been different.

The beaten survivors were falling back, not many of them. Out in the field, to his horror he saw many with their hands up in the air, casting aside rifles. The heavy artillery which had so frightfully decimated the charge, perhaps dropping a thousand or more in a matter of seconds, now resumed fire on the light batteries brought up in support. A gun was dismounted, fragments flying in a deadly spray. Around to the south, come dawn, he now wondered, still not ready to give in. He could catch a glimpse of the canal, which was filled with barges coming up, many of them loaded with additional troops.

The door this way was closed. He would have to find another way out. That realization, he knew, had just cost him several thousand more men as he surveyed the stricken field. I am bleeding out by the minute.

He looked over at Colonel Duvall, who was silent, a bit red-faced, for only minutes before Lee had threatened him with a court-martial if the colonel did not release Traveler's reins and let him go forward.

"My apologies, Colonel," Lee sighed. "You were doing your duty."

"Thank you, sir. It was your safety, sir. The army needs you."

"Yes, son, I guess it still does," Lee said.

"Scout that road down to Poolesville," he said softly. "See if we can move that way. Send a courier up to General Longstreet as well. Inform him of our failure to breach the line here. He is to abandon his position tonight and move down here. We must find a way across this river tomorrow. I will need him with me."

7:00 P.M.

Grant read the telegram and sighed with relief. Hancock had held. The fight, according to the report, was over in a matter of minutes and Lee was already withdrawing.

Grant looked over at the map Ely had spread on the table.

It had to be Poolesville. That was the only other way out now. Strike for Edwards Ferry or a crossing in between. But moving the bridges over that road would be a nightmare.

"Ely."

"Here, sir."

"Orders to General Sheridan. General advance along the line the hour before the dawn. I suspect General Longstreet will abandon the line here during the night. Orders to Hancock to move the Edwards Ferry garrison up to Poolesville to block that road. Also to bring down the garrisons at Point of Rocks, they are no longer needed there. Sykes to now turn due south."

"Yes, sir."

Grant sat back down in the chair he had occupied most of the day, looking out across the Frederick plains. The air was heavy with the cloying stench of bodies rotting. It would be good to leave this terrible place.

Behind him, an endless train of supplies was coming down the mountain pass, priority now given to medical supplies. The first of the wounded who could be moved were being sent back to Hagerstown and from there to hospitals in Harrisburg.

To the east the sky was beginning to glow and he knew what that meant. He lit a cigar and watched the glow begin to rise, punctuated by distant explosions.

On the Baltimore and Ohio All over, goodbye, now blow it to hell!" Pete shouted. Men were running down the tracks, throwing torches into boxcars, tossing in cans of coal oil, loose straw, anything to get them burning. Fires had been lit in several train boilers, steam was up, and the locomotives were now rolling down the tracks, crashing into burning cars, or tumbling off where rails had been severed.

One full ammunition train, a half mile away, went up with a tremendous roar, fireball rising hundreds of feet into the air. He watched it with grim satisfaction. Enough ammunition to keep an entire corps in action for a day, but he would be damned if the Yankees would have it now. And as far as the wreckage to the Baltimore and Ohio- the hell with them. If we have lost this war, it was their blame as much as anyone's. He was in no mood to be forgiving now.

He caught the eye of a colonel, leading a detail of men and an ambulance.

"Ammunition's gone," Pete said. The colonel shook his head.

"Damn sir, I'm down to maybe twenty rounds a man." "Just get your men formed up. We're marching at midnight." 'To where, sir?" Pete smiled sadly.

'To Virginia if we can, but to hell if we must."

CHAPTER TWENTY

The White House

August 30, 1863 1:00 A.M.

How are you, Mr. President," Elihu asked as he came into the office. Lincoln, sitting behind his desk, looked up, offered a weak smile, and set down his pen.

"Just a minute more, Elihu. Why don't you sit down and relax."

Elihu went over to the sofa and collapsed. He had not slept in a day and a half. He felt as if he had been trapped in a small boat, tossed back and forth by waves coming from opposite directions. There would be moments of exultation, followed minutes later by contrary news that plunged all into gloom.

Renewed rioting had broken out in New York when it was reported in the Times that Grant had sustained over thirty thousand casualties and was retreating.

The Tribune, in contrast, was reporting victory, but its headlines were ignored and the rioting had swept into city hall, the building torched by the mob.

Sickles was up to his usual destructive behavior, denouncing the removal of Stanton, calling for Lincoln's impeachment, and demanding that both he and Stanton be returned to positions of authority, in order to "save our Republic from a dictator who has led us to the brink of disaster."

The news had fueled protests in Philadelphia and Cleveland and many other cities of the Midwest, particularly those that had provided so many regiments to Grant's army.

Yet the waves would then rush in from the other direction. Sherman had just reported a sharp victory against Bragg about thirty miles north of Atlanta; if he could now beat Bragg in a race to secure Kennesaw Mountain, he'd be in a position to take Atlanta under siege within a matter of days.

Elihu closed his eyes, glad for the momentary respite. He heard Lincoln scratching away with his pen, a sigh, the sound of paper being folded.

"Elihu?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Asleep?"

"Wish I could, sir."

Lincoln was looking over at him. He seemed to have aged another decade within the last few weeks. He had lost weight, his eyes were deep-set, dark circles beneath them, hair unkempt, bony features standing out starkly in the flickering light of the lamp on his desk.

Lincoln stood up, walked over, and sat down in a chair next to Elihu, handing him a sealed envelope.

"I need you to do this for me now."

"What is it, sir?"

"I want you to personally deliver this memo to General Grant."

Elihu took the envelope. "Now, sir?"

"Yes. The railroad line has been restored to Baltimore. I've already sent a message down to the rail yard, and a car is waiting for you. You should be able to get a little sleep on the way up. From there proceed as far as possible west on the B and O, then find Grant and deliver this message. It is absolutely crucial that you do so."