Henry was silent looking at the map. A momentum was developing, like a train that had lost its breaks and was rolling downhill. The army was moving south; Lee was in the way. There was no way to turn it around yet again, to perhaps fall back on Harrisburg. Do that and every anti-administration paper in the country would be screaming about cowardice and defeat Stanton would hang Meade. Then who would get the army? Sedgwick, who was notorious for being slow, maybe even Sickles as a compromise to his Democratic party cronies?
Meade looked up wearily at Henry. "Go down to Union Mills. You already know the ground. Start picking out your positions. I want the artillery concentrated the way you keep talking about"
Henry nodded and tried to suppress the slight flicker of a smile.
"Knowing Hancock, he's most likely trying to force the position even now. Perhaps we'll get lucky, but if Longstreet is there already, I doubt if one corps can do the job."
"Pick your spot well, Hunt I want every gun you've got on the line. Tomorrow morning we punch a way through. I'll come along shortly."
Henry saluted and left the church, yet again ignoring the reporters shouting questions as he mounted up, motioning for his staff to follow.
The troops in the street were moving again, wearily shuffling along; the morning heat was already trapped in the street by the buildings, everything and everybody coated in a choking cloud of dust.
Off to the right he could hear the thunder building. Fifth Corps was going in.
10:30 AM, JULY 3,1863 THE ANTRIM, TANEYTOWN
Leaning against the railing of the "widow's walk," of the Antrim mansion, four stories above the surrounding countryside, Robert E. Lee trained his field glasses on the roiling clouds of smoke billowing up just to the north of town. The battlefront was spreading out the sound growing wider, the high crackling of musketry punctuated by the deeper thump of massed artillery.
Another courier came galloping down the street from the north, and a minute later he heard the heavy clump of boots racing up the stairs. The young lieutenant stopped beneath the ladder up to the widow's walk and Lee nodded, motioning for him to come up.
The boy saluted and handed the dispatch over.
10 AM. July 3 North of Taneytown
Sir,
I believe that I am now facing the entire Fifth Corps of the Union army. My ability to hold the forward position assigned is rapidly being compromised by flanking forces both to the east and west. Prisoners indicate that the entire Union army is moving in this direction. I request additional support.
J. B.Hood
Lee handed the note to Walter Taylor. As Walter read the note, Lee gazed back to the north and then west, the road to Emmitsburg. Rodes's division was wearily marching past, dust swirling up, the men staggering after a twelve-hour march. Behind them Johnson's division, which had been so badly mauled at Gettysburg, should be coming up, followed at last by Pickett At last report he was approaching Emmitsburg from over the mountains to the west
He balanced the odds. McLaws had two brigades in Westminster, the other two going into position at Union Mills. The three divisions of Hill's corps were moving toward Union Mills and Westminster, all three of them having suffered some loss at Gettysburg, especially Heth's, which was now commanded by Pettigrew.
If I really thought about this risk, Lee thought I'd freeze. Part of one division holding the forward flank of the line, another division here barely securing our main road of advance, and three divisions badly hit two days ago maneuvering to get into line in front of Westminster. Ewell's men were exhausted after an all-night march, all three of his divisions having been engaged the day before. They needed to rest; at best they'll be ready tomorrow for a fight but not today, and the same stood true of Hill's men.
If indeed Hood was right and the prisoner reports were true, in two hours the Union army could be through my line of march, cutting off two divisions to the west throwing the whole plan into chaos.
The goal of this campaign is Westminster, but to secure it we must hold Taneytown until the army has passed. Every man cut off, or tied up here, might be the crucial difference. If need be, Johnson can be used to support Hood, though the men of that division were badly fought out from the doomed assault at Gettysburg.
But if I don't reinforce Longstreet, and Meade is driving not here, but to Westminster, I lose that; they slip around my right, slide into the defenses around Washington, and this madness continues.
Washington, just what is Meade getting from Washington right now? That was easy to surmise, remembering the panic of only a year ago when it looked as if McClellan would indeed gain Richmond. Few politicians can see beyond the moment, to the broader strategies that can win a war, tying the hands of those who, in the next breath, they berate for having followed their orders and then lose as a result
Stanton, Lincoln, and every politician in that town will pressure the Army of the Potomac to attack. And the quickest path to attack is Westminster. That is where he'll concentrate and drive for.
Lee looked back to the courier.
'Tell General Hood that I appreciate his concern, but at this moment can spare no reserves; I must push every available man toward Westminster. I know General Hood will do his utmost to hold the line assigned. Tell him I expect that he shall be careful of his own well-being and to keep me appraised."
The courier nodded, obviously disappointed by the orders. He repeated them dutifully then descended the ladder.
Walter looked at Lee, who smiled. "Our nerve, Walter. We must keep our nerve. Hood must hold, and we must shift the army to the right If we get tangled up in a fight here, we could lose everywhere. Hood must hold."
11:45 AM, JULY 3,1863 UNION MILLS
"He's going to do it" Porter Alexander, Longstreet's corps artillery commander, shouted, pointing across the valley to the north side of Pipe Creek.
Longstreet intent on watching as the men of Barksdale's brigade furiously dug in, looked up.
Along the crest of the ridge, twelve hundred yards to the north, a line of skirmishers was in view, followed a moment later by a battle line of Union troops, a quarter of a mile wide.
He raised his glasses, scanning the advancing troops.
"A division at least," he remarked to Alexander.
Some of Barksdale's men stopped in their backbreaking labor and looked up. "Keep at it!" Longstreet shouted. "They won't be here for fifteen minutes. Keep at it!"
The men reluctantly stooped back over. Across the crest of the hill looking down on the mill, Barksdale's boys were digging in. Dirt was flying as men dug away with bayonets, canteens split in half, and the few precious shovels that someone had thrown into an ammunition wagon.
Saplings and low brush down along the slope, which flattened out into the bottomland of the creek, were being cut back to deny cover, and several hundred men were swarming over the mill, tearing off planks, clearing out the stacked-up lumber alongside the mill, and dragging the loot uphill to reinforce the trench.
The artillery batteries were better equipped for this kind of work, the crews laboring to build up lunettes, crescent-shaped earthworks around each gun, which Alexander had personally set in place.
The few scattered trees were going down as well, dropped by men who had an ax or hatchet with them. Sharpened stakes were being cut to drive into the ground, branches dragged into place and then tied to the stakes to act as a barrier to slow down a charge.
But his men, arriving exhausted, had only been at work a couple of hours. A day here, with fresh troops, Longstreet thought wistfully, even twelve hours, and I could turn this into a fortress that could stop ten times their numbers. The earthwork was barely knee-high in places, the ground hard and flinty.