CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Headquarters, Army of the Susquehanna One Mile North of Monocacy Church, Maryland

The rain unleashed like a shattering deluge shortly after nightfall, striking with such intensity that he had called a halt to the march. As he looked out the window of the small farmhouse requisitioned as headquarters, he had to confess to a sense of guilt. In the past he had usually tried to set the example. If his men were forced to sleep in the rain, then so would he. But tonight, the migraine, the exhaustion, and also the fact that the secretary of war was by his side argued against that example, and he had Ely approach the darkened house.

It was, in fact, abandoned, the family most likely having fled because of the armies marching back and forth. It was a ramshackle affair, not much more than a rude cabin concealed beneath the trappings of clapboard nailed over the logs and a rough coating of plaster and whitewash on the inside.

The barn was empty as well, his staff piling into it, bedding down with their horses.

A flash of lightning revealed his troops hunkered down in the open fields, crouched under ponchos or shelter halves. In the woodlot nearby some intrepid souls had actually managed to get a fire going and were piling on logs, a circle of drenched men standing around the smoldering flames.

Grant turned back to Elihu and sat down, the room illuminated by a coal oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.

Their meal, what little he could stomach, was the same as the men outside ate, cold salt pork, hardtack, but he did have the luxury of coffee that one of his staff brewed in the open fireplace. Water was pouring down the chimney, and the fire was starting to hiss, smoke backfilling into the room.

Ely came in, stamping his boots, poncho dripping water on the rough-hewn floor.

"Sir, thought you should know a courier managed to come in from Hancock a few minutes ago."

Grant reached up to take the note.

"Sorry, sir, the paper, well, it just got soaked and disintegrated."

"Go on then."

"Hancock reports they've sealed off the Potomac and have linked up with the Army of the Potomac about five miles below Edwards Ferry."

Ely grinned.

"He also begs to report, sir, they bagged most of Longstreet's Corps and an entire pontoon train. The rebs had the bridge halfway across the river when they attacked and cut them off. He estimates between his command and that of Sykes and Grierson they've taken nearly five thousand prisoners."

"They did it," Elihu exclaimed, slapping the table with his hand, the sound of it causing Grant to wince.

Elihu jumped to his feet, came over to Grant's side, and grabbed his hand, shaking it.

"You did it, Grant. By God, you did it!"

"That they did, sir," Ely grinned. "Hancock suggests, sir, that what is left of Lee's army will be coming back toward us in the morning. He has linked up with Sykes, and they will begin pushing toward us and closing the trap, come dawn."

Grant nodded and offered a weak smile.

"Thank you, Ely."

There was a note of dismissal in his voice, and Ely, a bit confused, withdrew, closing the door.

"My God, Grant, this could be it"

Grant looked out the window.

"Perhaps."

"What's wrong."

Grant rubbed his forehead.

"Maybe I'm just tired."

"The letter from the president," Elihu said.

Grant nodded, and Elihu reached into his breast pocket and took it out, pushing it over to Grant. Grant saw that the envelope was open.

"Yes, I read it," Elihu said. "The president told me to, even though it is addressed to you. I think you need to look at it now."

Grant nodded, sat back, unfolded the sheets of paper, and began to read.

The room was silent as Grant read the memo carefully. Finished, he put it down, then picked it back up, and read it one more time.

Finished, he looked over at Elihu.

"And this was written after the casualty reports from Frederick?" he asked.

"Yes, General, it was."

Grant sighed and folded the document up.

"I half expected when you arrived that it was with orders to relieve me."

"That's absurd, Grant."

"Frederick was a near-run thing, very near run."

"You warned us of that cost a month ago. You warned the president again just last week. He was prepared for it, though I know the news did come as a shock. But Grant, even if you had lost the field at Frederick, you accomplished the goal you set before us a month ago, the one mandated to you by the president. You destroyed Lee's army in the process. Even if you had abandoned the field, the combined commands of Hancock and Sykes would have cornered him."

"Perhaps," Grant said quietly.

He looked out the window.

"The cost. I never quite realized the cost. I think history will remember me now as 'the Butcher.'"

"Grant, what is war but butchery?" Elihu replied sharply. "Isn't that why you hated the army even as you served in Mexico? Isn't that why you quit? Any man who loves what he does too much, I would not give two cents for, nor would the president. The president just said to me a few days ago that a good general is like a good doctor facing a cancer or an amputation. He cuts because he has-to, not because he loves it. You need men under you like that young Sheridan, who get caught up in it, but the man who runs it all must balance things. You did so, and the survival of the Republic was in the balance."

"I wish it could have been done with less cost," he paused, "to both sides."

"If this war dragged on another year, how many more deaths? A hundred thousand, two hundred thousand? That's the other side of the equation the president asked me to convey to you. He anticipated what you might have to do to win. 'The cost up front might be high,' he said, 'but if the cost is high up front, let us pray it saves more lives in the long run.' I think, Grant, that is what you are accomplishing now."

"If we still bag Lee."

"What do you mean? He's lost his one pontoon bridge. This deluge will bring the creeks and rivers up. You have him cornered." 'Too many generals claim they have their opponent cornered and wake up in the morning to find him gone."

He looked out the window as another flash of lightning ripped the heavens.

"He can still run. He can still drag it out under cover of this storm, break up his army, and slip part of it across the river. If he does, this will still drag on."

Elihu did not reply.

"I think I need to try and sleep, sir. You can have the bunk here, I'll take the one in the loft."

Elihu did not argue with him. He could sense the melancholy, the burden Grant was carrying as he slowly climbed up the ladder and collapsed on the bed in the loft.

Elihu turned, and picking up a stick, he poked at the fire, unable to sleep.

Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia One Mile South ofMonocacy Church