The way this railroad was set up, it would be impossible. Impossible, however, was just the type of challenge he secretly enjoyed facing. Pulling a notepad out of his haversack, he began to jot down what was needed, ideas that had been forming on the gut-churning ride up here.
Given enough time, he'd love to put a thousand men from his Military Railroad command to work grading this line; a couple of weeks' work, however, and by that point the issue would hopefully be decided. No, focus on what can be done now.
There's not enough firewood here. Sending men out to bring in seasoned lumber for the locomotives would be problematic. A lot of good wood had most likely already been emptied out of farmers' woodpiles by the passing armies. Take it from the stockpile in the main marshaling yards for the Military Railroad at Alexandria; a couple of trainloads should see us through for the next several days. Water. There was no tank here, let alone a pump to bring the water up from the stream. We'll need to man haul it up from the creek below the depot Better get canvas buckets; a thousand should do it. He chuckled at the thought of the fat civilian hauling buckets up out of the creek. No, they'll all disappear once that kind of labor starts.
He began to jot down his list of priorities.
No telegraph to signal trains moving up and back on this single-track line. It'll take at least four to five days to string the necessary wire.
Without the telegraph and with no sidings, each train would tie the track up for hours. We must bring up extra locomotives and cars from the army depot and then put them on this line in convoys. Five trains, each with ten cars, four hours up, an hour to off-load, then three hours back. As soon as they clear the line, send up the next convoy of five trains. That will give us 150 carloads a day, 1,500 tons of rations, uniforms, ammunition, boots, fodder, grease, coal oil, leather harnesses, horseshoes, bandages, ether, crutches… all of the offerings to war produced by a thousand factories from Chicago to Bangor.
The bridges along this line will have to be surveyed, just in case Confederate raiders do get astride the line and bum them. Once measured, replacement timbers can be cut and loaded back at Alexandria, ready to be rolled up for repairs.
It will take eight hours to turn the trains around, if I can get enough men to unload them once here in Westminster. Too slow though for messages. And though it hurt his pride as a railroad man, he made a note to the War Office to retain the services of the Adam's Express Company. They had the fastest horses in the region, with riders trained to handle them. Ship a dozen horses and riders up here by the next train and use them to run messages and orders back to the nearest telegraph station outside of Baltimore and up to Meade at Gettysburg.
Ironic, he thought I actually lived there for a while, teaching college. He wondered if the battle had damaged the college or injured any of his old friends.
Next he drew up a quick report to the War Office, outlining what he had done over the last day, the damage observed to the rail line up to Hanover, and his decision to establish Westminster as the primary depot for the Army of the Potomac.
He double-checked the list of material requested, mentally comparing it to what he knew was stockpiled in the warehouses at Alexandria, already loaded aboard boxcars and flatcars.
What he was doing did not strike Herman as being all that unique. It was simply how war was now fought or should be fought with cool efficiency and the application of a nation's industry to a single goal, something that America, perhaps more than any nation in history, was now ideally suited for.
If the enemy burns a bridge, haul out the prefabricated replacement and drop it in place, and then keep the trains moving. If they burn a depot, set a new one up, as we did after Second Manassas. Just keep the tidal wave of supplies moving until finally they give up… or, he thought grimly, we lose our will.
That was impossible. He had come from a Europe that was divided, perpetually at war with itself. No, this place had to be different And once this was finished, I can go back to other things, other dreams, to run a rail line clear across the continent and then see a hundred new cities spring up in its wake.
A locomotive whistle shrieked, disturbing his thoughts. He pulled back the canvas cover of the wagon and saw that the infantry rounded up by the reluctant colonel had finished unloading the two cars filled with hospital supplies. Folding up his notes, he jumped off the back of die wagon and waded through the tangle of men, climbing up into the cab of the engine. His orderly, a captain according to the military but far more at home at the throttle of a locomotive, was busy studying the water gauge.
"Everything set Johnson? Enough wood and water to get you back down the line?"
"I think so, sir, but I tell you, this line is a hell of a mess. Not like the B and O, that's for certain."
"Make sure these get handed off," Herman said, folding up his plans and orders, jotting down addresses on the back of each.
"You staying here, sir?"
"Someone's got to get things organized around here." Johnson grinned. "Have fun, sir. It looks like a hell of a mess around here." "Not for long."
"Just don't get in any trouble like you did at Manassas. I like serving with you, sir."
Herman smiled. That had been a close shave, when the Rebs poured in behind General Pope and cut the rail line back to Washington. He had pushed a train down the line to try and find out what was going wrong and wound up getting chased by Confederate cavalry and nearly killed.
Giving Johnson his orders, Herman jumped down from the cab. Johnson eased the throttle in, bursts of smoke thumped from the stack, and with a gasping hiss the engine started to back up, pushing the two empty boxcars and wood tender behind it Someone had finally untangled the overturned wagon and mules behind the train, clearing the track. The shriek of the whistle set thousands of the noisy animals to braying, their cries echoing across the town.
Five thousand wagons, all those damn mules. Have to get that organized and quick, Haupt thought If a panic ever sets them off, it could turn into the biggest stampede in history.
The train eased around the sharp curve behind the depot and started back toward Baltimore.
Herman turned, looking around at the pile of boxes littering the side of the track, the hundreds of wagons parked in the fields and along the streets, the milling civilians, the infantry starting to drift back off into the dark.
He caught the eye of the colonel and motioned him over.
"In eight hours, trains are going to pour into this place. I need a thousand men ready to work in relays off-loading the cars. The whole timetable depends on getting the supplies off the cars as quickly as possible.
"I want a loading platform built; I'll sketch it out for you shortly. Next we need several hundred men to form a bucket brigade down to the creek. All locomotives will be topped off with water before heading back; that will be done at the same time we're unloading. The first two trains up will be loaded with firewood. They're to be unloaded and set up in piles along the side of the track. Teams of thirty men will then be assigned to each pile to load the wood on to each engine as it comes in.
"Next I'd like to get some kind of shedding up. It can be open sided, roofed with canvas, but I want the rations and ammunition properly stored. The far side of the shed should have a clear approach for wagons, which will then be loaded up. Traffic has to be sorted out and wagons cleared from the streets. They'll come in from one direction, load up, then head back out
"Finally, details to the churches, any large buildings. Hospital supplies can go in there for now. You have that?"