As a young man he’d moved to Illinois and helped his father build another log cabin. Shortly after that’s he hired on a flatboat on the Mississippi taking a load of cargo to New Orleans. That was where he saw his first slave auction, something that affected him deeply. The following year, he ran for a seat in the Illinois House of Representatives. It did not seem a fortuitous decision at the time because a month after the announcement the store he was clerking at went out of business and Lincoln lost the election.
Out of work, and just defeated, Lincoln eagerly signed up when the Illinois governor called for volunteers to put down a rebellion of Native Americans — the Fox — led by Chief Black Hawk. Lincoln enlisted as a private but was so well liked that he was elected captain of his company, a pretty common practice that continued to the present day in the current conflict at lower unit levels. Men preferred to serve under someone they respected and liked rather than some stranger thrust over their heads.
Although Lincoln saw no action, he had always been proud of his time in uniform. From private to captain it was still a big jump to the White House. Lincoln became a postmaster next, a job that gave him a lot of time to read. It also allowed him to meet most of the people of his county and when he next ran for the Illinois legislature, he won. While serving he also began to study law on his own and eventually started his own practice.
In 1840 he met and married Mary Todd, who foretold his future with uncanny accuracy. The previous night she had told him more of what she heard, and he knew she was right.
It was raining outside and the atmosphere inside the Oval Office was dark and gloomy, befitting the report. Lincoln closed his eyes. “It’s coming, Stanton. Can’t you feel it?”
“What’s coming, sir?”
“The great battle.” Lincoln opened his eyes. “What does Fighting Joe Hooker plan on doing next?”
Stanton waved a hand, indicating the report. “He doesn’t say. He’s on the north side of the Rappahannock.”
“The more important question, I must reluctantly add,” Lincoln said, “is what does Lee plan?”
“Hooker has him fixed — ” Stanton cut short what he Was going to say at Lincoln’s snort of derision.
“Hooker has nothing fixed. Lee is a ghost. Who knows · where he’ll pop up next?” Lincoln leaned forward and looked at the map. Washington and Richmond were not far apart. At least in miles. But in blood spilt over the last two years they might as well be a continent away. There were many in Washington who believed that Lee would one day show up outside the city with his army behind him. This despite the fact that there were thirty thousand troops with heavy artillery dug in deep, guarding the approaches into Washington, the most heavily fortified city in the world.
Lincoln’s eyes went vacant. As if he were peering off in the distance at something only he could see. Stanton had seen the president do this before and knew a decision was coming.
“He’s coming North,” Lincoln concluded, agreeing with what Mary had told him Ire previous evening. The logic of lee’s situation agreed with the voices she had heard.
“Sir?”
“Lee. He’ll be coming North again.”
Stanton shook his head. “Mister President, that would leave Richmond exposed.”
“Richmond isn’t the key,” Lincoln said. “The Army of Northern Virginia is. And Lee has no fear of Hooker attacking. Why should he7” — he glared at Stanton — “Try to find me a general who understands that Lee and his army is the key to winning this war, not Richmond.”
“Yes, sir.”
As soon as Stanton was gone, Mary came in from the room on the left. She didn’t say a word, walking over to her husband and taking a position behind him. Lincoln leaned forward, placing his head on the desktop, too weary even to keep his body upright. A tic at his left temple jumped uncontrollably, He pressed his hands to either side of his skull, as if by doing so he could block something from entering his head. Mary put her hands on top of his.
He saw the vision that invaded his mind from hers. Wave upon wave of men in gray charging forward into withering fire. Being mowed down with cannon and musket fire by the thousands.
It appeared to be the start — or finish — of a Union victory, but Lincoln could feel from Mary that it was much more than that. For in the midst of the Confederates’ line was a case, and inside it were crystal skulls that began to glow blue and grew stronger as the carnage grew more deadly and the gray line forged forward into the hail of deadly fire.
Lincoln moaned in agony. “If only this burden could be · taken from us,” he whispered. But he knew from Mary’s continued touch it was not to be. He felt another presence. He lifted his head and turning his chair looked at the windows. Across the garden and lawn there was a solitary, tall figure standing near the street, staring back at him. All Lincoln could make out was shiny black skin underneath a black, broad-brimmed hat and deep penetrating eyes. He realized with a start that the figure was an old woman.
Lincoln blinked, and when he opened his eye once more, the woman was gone.
“Did you see her?” Lincoln asked his wife.
Mary nodded. “Yes. It was a vision. She wasn’t really there. She is another like me. One who can see. And she will be part of it when the time comes. In her time and her world.”
Lincoln looked up at his wife. “I don’t understand this, Mary. Different worlds. Different times. This dark force you speak of, the Shadow, and its threat. The visions and voices. I’ve trusted you, but. .” his voice trailed off.
“I know it’s hard for you,” Mary said. “But this war was inevitable. You knew that when you were running for office. The battles are inevitable. You saw the numbers from Antietam. We used that battle for the Emancipation Proclamation. There will be more battles that we must use. Especially one. A great battle that is coming soon. I sent the vision to you just now. It’s a true one. Those men will die. But you can give it a greater reason also.”
It still made no sense to Lincoln. It never did, no matter how much they talked about it. But he knew what she said was true as strongly as he knew his love for her was true. He would do what he could to make things happen in the way they must be. Whether the other players involved would do their part was something he could not control.
General Lee was ill. His stomach rumbled and beads of sweat dotted his high forehead just below the magnificent mane of white hair. His hand shook slightly as he ran it over the map, the gesture carefully watched by his three corps commanders.
To his right was Longstreet, his war horse. “Old Pete,” Lee sometimes called him when they were alone. Solid, dependable. And steady in action. But unimaginative. And sometimes slow to the assault, preferring to dig in and hold the defensive if given the opportunity. But he had held the stone wall at the base of Marye’s Heights at Fredericksburg and taken the best the Union had to throw at him. He’d been a rock there, and without him, the day and battle would have been lost.
And then next to Longstreet was the second corps commander, General A. P. Hill. A pragmatist who had been feuding with Stonewall Jackson for over a year. Two more opposite, yet capable men, one could not find. And now Jackson was dead. Along with approximately thirteen thousand of Lee’s men at Chancellorsville. While the North had suffered almost half again as many casualties, the Union could more easily afford losses. Another battle that led nowhere. A. P. Hill was steady but impetuous. Hill had begun the Seven Days’ offensive by attacking Union forces because he had grown bored sitting in his defensive positions. He had saved the day at Antietam with his forced march from Harpers Ferry and fortuitous arrival on the battlefield at the critical juncture.