"Could we not let him come to us?" Judah asked. "He'll wear his men out; we can continue to rest and refit."

"Impossible," Longstreet replied. "Do that, let him envelope us here and reunite with the Washington garrison, and we'd be pinned in this city with no line of retreat. He could then wait us out, forcing us to attack on his terms."

Lee nodded in agreement.

"No, Mr. Secretary, it has never been the policy of this army to let our opponents choose their ground. From Harrisburg to Hagerstown and then over the National Road to Frederick is more than a hundred miles of marching. All of it in the end funneling down to one road over the Catoctin Mountains. We marched that same road last year during the Sharpsburg campaign. It's a good road but a steep climb over the South Mountains and then the Catoctins.

"No, sir, that will be a hard march. He's been on the road for three days now. I'd place the head of his column at Greencastle, perhaps lead elements as far as Hagerstown, but he is more than a day away, more likely two, from Frederick. And even then, all will have4o funnel over that one road.

"If we can take advantage of the railroad, and get our army up and marching before dawn, we can have all our strength there in two days, the bulk of our army there ahead of Grant.

'Then we choose the ground and let him come at us. Lincoln is undoubtedly pressuring him to attack, and attack us he will. We will have the better ground, and by heaven's help we will smash him."

He looked around, and even Pete nodded in agreement "Another battle like the ones you talk about, General Longstreet," Lee said enthusiastically, looking over at Pete. "A good defensive line, like the one we had at Union Mills, and we bleed him out"

"I hope so, sir."

"I know so," Lee said emphatically.

"Now, gentlemen, you know your orders. Walter, find Generals Hood and Beauregard and have them report to me back at my headquarters in Baltimore immediately. I want those trains moving, infantry to be on the march at dawn with five days' rations and full cartridge boxes. General Longstreet, please accompany me back to headquarters and we shall lay out the routes of march for our corps. If we can get the trains running correctly, General Scales's Division will lead off by train, sparing them the march and placing them ahead of the Union cavalry.

"Gentiemen, this is the battle we have been waiting for, and with God's help this will finally end the war."

B amp;O Rail Yards, Baltimore

August 24

11:30 P.M

McDougal, damn it, are we finally ready to move?" "Yes, Major, I think so." "It's general now, McDougal. Remember that." "Yes, your worship," McDougal said with a grin while shifting a wad of tobacco and spitting.

Former major, now general, Cruickshank muttered a curse under his breath. A job that should have taken only three or four hours had consumed a day and a half. The pontoons and bridging material had been laboriously hauled through the streets of Baltimore to the rail yard. Then there had been the nightmare of maneuvering each wagon carrying a thirty-foot-long boat up onto a flatcar. Easy enough when talking about it, but bloody chaos when turned into a reality. Each flatcar had to be backed up individually to a loading ramp, mules unhooked, then the cumbersome wagon pushed by several dozen men from the ramp onto the car. Several of them had slipped, the clearance of wagon wheel width and rail car width being only a few inches to either side, and one of the boats had been staved in when it.tumbled off the car.

Once loaded, the wheels had to be chocked, cables hooked to secure the wagon in place, the single car then pulled away from the ramp and sidetracked, another flatcar hooked to a locomotive and backed into place.

Meanwhile cantankerous mules had to be forced aboard boxcars or open-sided cattle cars, kicking and braying. After hours of waiting in the heat, men then had to go into those same cars, lead the mules out to feed and water them, then lead them back in again.

If the full Baltimore and Ohio crew had been around, he knew the job would have gone off without a hitch; instead, he was primarily reliant on his own men and a hundred or so workers who had shown up just after dark, when word circulated around that each man would be given five dollars, in silver, at the end of each day's work.

That alone burned him. His boys were getting a few dollars a month in worthless Confederate scrip and that issue alone had triggered more than a few fistfights with the civilians.

McDougal, who had agreed to stay on as yard boss for twenty dollars a day, silver, watched as the first of the locomotives began to inch forward.

Jeb Stuart was aboard that train. An extra car hooked on to the end, an open cattle car now carrying half a dozen horses and the "cavalier" himself, sitting astride the siding of the car, hat off and waving a salute to Cruickshank as they passed.

"Damn show-off," Cruickshank muttered.

"He's off to war and you ain't," McDougal said. "Count yourself lucky."

"I'm stuck here now, McDougal," Cruickshank said. "I'd rather be going with my pontoons. Get the hell out of this place."

"Oh, you'll have grand fun these next few days," McDougal said cheerfully. "I figure you'll have to help organize two hundred trains or more. A snap if you know what you are doing."

"I don't, and you do," Cruickshank said coldly, looking over at McDougal. "And by God, you better do it right." McDougal smiled.

"But, of course, Major… I mean, General. Of course."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Near Sykesville, Maryland

August 25 3:00 A.M.

Stop the train, stop the damn train!" Jeb Stuart leaned over the side of the car. Mules in the boxcar up ahead were kicking, screaming in panic. Flames shot out from under the wheels of the boxcar, streaming back.

The train whistle was shrieking, a couple of brakemen running aft, leaping from car to car, clamping down the brakes as the train skidded to a halt. As the train slowed, flames that had been trailing in the wind started to lick upward.

Jeb jumped off the car he was riding on, nearly tripping, regaining his footing and running alongside the train. The mules inside the burning car were terrified. A brakeman was by his side, helping to fling the door open, and the animals leapt out, disappearing into the darkness.

The front left journal box of the car was glowing red hot, flames licking out. The engineer of the train and the fireman came back, lugging canvas buckets which they threw on the box, steam hissing. More buckets were hauled by several soldiers, dousing the side of the railcar.

"What in hell is going on here?" Jeb roared.

"Happens all the time, General," a brakeman announced. "That's a journal box. Filled with grease to lubricate the axle of the wheel. Sometimes it just catches fire."

Another bucket was upended on the box, the water hissing.

"Open the damn thing up."

"Once it cools, we'll repack it," the engineer said.

"How long?"

"Once it cools."

"Just open the damn thing."

A brakeman with a crowbar flipped the lid of the journal box open, the engineer holding a lantern and peering in at the steaming mess.

"I'll be damned," he whispered.

"What is it?" Jeb asked.

"Packed with wood shavings and scrap metal."

"What?"

"Sorry, sir. Someone sabotaged this car. It should have caught fire twenty miles back. Was most likely smoldering and we didn't even notice it in the dark."

"You mean someone deliberately wrecked it?"

The engineer said nothing, finally nodding his head when Jeb gave him a sharp look.

"Where?"

"Don't know, sir. Most likely back in Baltimore. Should have burned miles back down the track. Lucky we got this far. We're going to have to check every single box on this train now."