"The road to Fairfield, as I said," Sickles interjected, looking back at Henry.
Henry ignored him.
"So the only thing they have left up around Gettysburg is cavalry?" Meade asked. "Yes, sir."
Meade nodded, looking back at Butterfield.
"Our cavalry will have to focus on Stuart," Meade said, "but if their infantry is gone, I think it's safe to pull either First or Eleventh Corps down here."
"It's a nightmare up there," Henry said. "From what I saw, there must be six to seven thousand wounded in the town and surrounding area, a couple of thousand of them rebels. The area has to be secured and help brought in."
'I'd suggest Eleventh Corps stays behind, and we put First Corps on the road down here later in the day," Butterfield replied, and Henry nodded in agreement
The First and Eleventh had sustained over 50 percent casualties, but the old First still had a fighting edge to it The morale of the Eleventh was totally gone after the rout at Chancellorsville and the brutal first day's fight at Gettysburg, the few good units left in that formation having been annihilated in the battle for Cemetery Hill.
"Did you say that this surgeon reported the last rebel infantry left Gettysburg around midnight?" Sickles interjected, now standing up and joining the group around the map. "Yes, sir."
Sickles looked over significantly at Meade. "Then what we talked about before," Sickles said. "I'd like to press that case again."
Meade lowered his head.
"We know Longstreet is at Westminster," Sickles continued. "We're almost certain Hill is down there as well. So where is Ewell? Still on the road, most likely."
Sickles pulled out his pocket watch and opened it.
"It's Shortly after ten in the morning. If his corps left Gettysburg around midnight and then did a night march, they've covered fifteen, twenty miles at most. That would put them between Emmitsburg and Taneytown. You only have Fifth Corps attacking there."
"That's all that will be there," Meade replied stiffly.
"My corps will be coming into this town within the hour," Sickles continued.
From the look on Meade's face, Henry sensed that this argument had been going on for some time.
"All they have to do is turn off on to the road between here and Taneytown. Let me support the attack on the right. Do that and we can cut off the tail of Lee's advance and put ourselves between his army and their line of supplies and communication."
"General Sickles, he doesn't need a line of supply now," Butterfield interjected. "He has ours."
"But…" and before he could get another word out, Meade exploded. "Goddamn it, Sickles, it is our line of supply and communications that's the issue now! They are between us and Washington."
'To hell with Washington," Sickles muttered. "They've got enough men behind the fortifications to hold. We're dancing to Lee's tune; let's make him dance to ours for once."
'To hell with Washington?" Meade gasped. "Good God, man, they are bound to be in a panic down there. If Stanton can find a way, he'll get a message to me and it will be one word, just one word… 'Attack!'"
Meade looked back at the map and shook his head. "They're running around down there like headless chickens. Every newspaper will be screaming panic. Where's the army, Washington surrounded, Meade lost. You're a Goddamn politician, Sickles. You know it even better than I do how they'll react"
"I'm a general now," Sickles said coldly.
"For the moment," Meade snapped.
"Are you threatening my command?" Sickles retorted.
Meade looked up at him a dark fire in his eyes.
"I warned you about this yesterday," Sickles pressed, and Henry turned away. Goddamn, now was not the time to bring that up.
"Do you want me to put it in writing?" Meade shouted. "General Sickles guessed right. Then when you run for president you can claim you could have won the battle at Gettysburg? Is that what you want?"
"I want us to win," Henry said, his voice pitched even, leaning over the table, wondering if his interruption would bring the wrath of both generals down on him. Damn all, now was not the time to argue; it was a time to make decisions and carry them through.
The two looked over at him. There was a flicker of a smile on Butterfield's face.
Meade exhaled noisily and nodded.
Sickles, still fuming, leaned back against the pew across from Meade.
"General Sickles, by the time your corps marched from here down to Taneytown, it will be mid to late afternoon," Henry said. "If your assumption is correct, that Ewell is on the road, it won't matter by then; they'll have moved down to here."
He looked up at Sickles as he spoke, but there was no response. Yet again, the irony of it Henry thought Sickles was right yesterday morning, even yesterday afternoon when he pressed to move straight down on Emmitsburg or support Sykes toward Taneytown. But that was too late now. Meade wanted the concentration on Westminster, a natural instinct, hoping to get the bulk of his troops there before Lee. It was obvious, though, that Meade had just lost the race, maybe by not more than an hour or two, but lost it all the same. That would haunt him. Sickles was positioning himself to be the ghost who did the haunting.
The question now, however, was what to do. By the end of the day, Meade could bring four corps into position across from Union Mills. If First Corps came down from Gettysburg, it'd be up to five corps. Then what?
Meade, as if reading Henry's mind, looked back down at the map. "Hunt, you're the only one here who's seen the entire line along Pipe Creek."
"It's a natural defensive position," Henry said, tracing the position out on the map.
"The area around Union Mills has an open ridge rising up a hundred and fifty feet or more from the flat, open land flanking the stream. Our side is slightly higher, which could give us a small advantage with artillery.
"Their right flank is guarded by a millpond and a very steep slope, which turns to the south, offering a natural anchor point"
"What about their left flank at Union Mills?" Butterfield asked. "Maybe we can go around them?" Meade shook his head.
"We shift to the right toward Fifth Corps, that takes us even farther away from Washington. It's Washington, damn it. We must reestablish contact with it"
"Then shifting to the left?" Butterfield offered.
"The roads just don't work for us," Henry replied. "There's a high ridge they can deploy along for half a dozen miles to the east. It'll take another day to even try to reposition to the left. In turn, that will draw the rebel army straight into Baltimore, which will cut Washington off by rail and telegraph from the North."
"It might already be cut" Butterfield said.
Meade shook his head.
"Not yet. Lee is concentrating. He knows he can't turn and move on Washington or Baltimore with us at his back."
The room was silent for a moment
"What about waiting him out?" Butterfield offered.
"We can't" Meade replied bitterly. "They have the supplies now, and we don't. In three to five days, we'll be near starving. The only reserve ammunition we have is what we brought up with us to Gettysburg; Lee now has the rest. We can't disperse with Lee there and with that damn Stuart wandering around behind us. Lee has the line, and he's begging us to attack.
"And Washington, they'll all be screaming bloody murder. I have to attack; I have to! Once we bring the four corps on this road into line we go in. That will be nearly fifty thousand men, supported by all of Hunt's guns, two hundred pieces. One hard assault and I think we can batter our way through. We take Westminster back, re-establish contact with Washington, and Lee will be forced then to either attack us or withdraw."