A single gold-braided, scarlet-coated figure started to rise. Trepp’s rifle cracked and he dropped back among the others.
“I always take the commanding officer,” Trepp said, “because I am the best shot. T
he others take from left to right as they wish and we fire together. Good, Ja?”
“Good, Ja, my friend. Are your marksmen all Swiss?”
“One, two maybe. Prussian, Austrian, all from the old countries. Hunters there, damn good. We got plenty Americans too, more hunters. But these boys the best, my friends. Now watch when the attack comes. We shoot officers and sergeants first, then the men carrying the little flags, then the ones who stop to pick up flags. They always do that, always get killed. Then we shoot the men who stop to shoot at us. All this before their muskets are within range. Lots of fun, you will see.”
Despite losing many of their officers the British pushed the charge home, roaring aloud as they rushed the last yards. Most of the troops on both sides had fired their final rounds and the battle was joined with bare bayonets. Grant looked at his new colored troops and found them holding the line, fighting fiercely, then even pursuing the attacking redcoats when the charge lost its momentum. Fight and die their sergeant had said — and they were doing just that.
Perhaps this battle was not lost quite yet, Grant thought.
The little steamer, River Queen, that had been so empty on the outward bound trip from Washington, was as filled as a Sunday excursion boat on her return voyage. Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee and all their aides filled the salon. The air was thick with the smoke of cigars and excited talk: there was good attendance in an alcove where a keg of whiskey had made an appearance. Abraham Lincoln retreated to a cabin with his secretaries, and General Sherman, to write the first of the many orders that must be issued. General Lee was called to consult with them and the atmosphere here became so close after a bit that Lincoln retreated to the deck where the air was fresher. The ship slowed as they approached the harbor at Yorktown where General Pope and his staff were waiting. Soon their blue uniforms were mixing with the gray of Lee’s officers. All of these men had served together at one time and knew each other well. Now they put the war behind them. Men who had been separated by the conflict were comrades once again. Seeing the President standing alone, General John Pope left the others and went to join him.
“The best of news, Mr. President. The telegraph line is finally opened to Grant’s command. They have held!”
“Welcome news, indeed John.”
“But they held at a terrible price. He reports at least 16,000 dead, more wounded. The reinforcements are getting through to him, the regiment of sharpshooters was first, then the New York Third. More are on the way. As soon as the cease-fire with the Confederates went into effect almost all the troops from the Washington defenses were pulled out and sent north. The first of them should be reaching Grant later today. I have another division on the way. We are getting plenty of men to the railheads, that is not the problem. Trains are. Just not enough available to move all the men that are needed.”
“You keep at it. Any problems with the railroads, let me know. We will see what kind of pressure we can apply. Grant must have all the reinforcements available — and he must hold until our joint forces can relieve him.”
“General Grant sent you a personal report on the fighting. With an added note to the army. He wants more troops like the New York Third.”
“He does? Now tell me — what is so special about them?”
“They are Negroes, Mr. President. We have other black regiments in training — but this is the first to have seen battle.”
“And their behavior under fire?”
“Exemplary according to Grant.”
“This war of invasion seems to be changing the world in many and unusual ways.”
The water became more choppy as the steamer left the York River and headed northeast into Chesapeake Bay, toward the mouth of the Potomac River. These were busy waters and at least two other ships could be seen close by. Low on the eastern horizon were even more ships, white sails and smears of black smoke against the blue sky. Lincoln pointed them out.
“More of the blockading fleet being withdrawn, I imagine.”
“They would not have received their orders yet,” General Pope said. “Only those in port that could be reached by telegraph.” He signaled to an aide to bring his telescope, raised it to his eye.
“Damnation!” he said. “Those aren’t American ships. Union Jacks — I can see them! That is a British fleet!”
“Which way are they going?” Lincoln called out, feeling a dreadful anticipation. “Send for the captain.”
The ship’s first officer came down from the bridge and saluted. “Captain’s compliments, Mr. President, but he would like to know what he should do. Those are British warships.”
“We know — but we don’t know which way they are going.”
“Same heading as ours, the mouth of the Potomac River. Towards Washington City. All but one of them.
“One of the battleships has altered course and is coming our way.”
PRESIDENTS IN PERIL
There was a feeling of tension released, and even pleasure and happiness, in Whitehall as they went through the reports that the packet had brought from Canada to Southampton.
“I say,” Lord Palmerston called out, waving a paper in the air. “General Champion reports that the Yankees appear to be putting up only the poorest of defenses. Plattsburgh taken and the troops marching on, advancing steadily. Jolly good!” And his gout had eased as well; the world had become a sunnier and more beneficent place.