Newt Gingrich - Never Call Retreat

"May I interject something, sir?" Judah Benjamin, the Confederate secretary of state, asked quietly.

"Of course, sir. I always value your opinion."

"I am not a military man, sir, but I can look at this from the political side."

"Go on, sir."

"The Lincoln administration has suffered two devastating blows in less than two months. Your victories at Union Mills and these last few days on this ground. Your victories have brought Maryland officially to our side as well."

Longstreet shifted a bit but said nothing. Only the day before Pete had spoken derisively of Maryland's failure to raise even a single division to join the ranks. Only a few thousand Marylanders had so far volunteered; the rest were taking a wait-and-see attitude.

Judah looked up at Pete and smiled.

"I know, General, you are disappointed that there has been no levy en masse by our brothers in Maryland, but remember, they have endured two years of oppression by Lincoln and his cronies."

"All the more reason for them to rally to the colors."

"That time will come."

"When the war is over and we have won," Pete- replied coolly.

"Gentlemen, let us focus on the moment," Lee interjected smoothly.

Longstreet lowered his head.

"The political pressure on Lincoln is, after what you achieved these last few days, all but overwhelming. His coalition is on the point of collapse."

"I wish to heaven he would collapse! When are they going to learn they can't beat us?" Beauregard interjected. If not for the presence of Lee, he would have used more forceful words. All those around the table would have eagerly added to them, but none dared to voice their hatred of this effort to conquer them.

"Sickles was a War Democrat, the darling of that group, and now he is defeated and in disgrace," Benjamin said.

"Does anyone know how he is?" Lee asked.

"He's in Philadelphia," Stuart said. "He'll live, but I regret to say, sir, that we just got word that General Warren died this morning in one of our field hospitals."

There was a moment of silence, someone behind Lee sighing with a whispered comment, "Damn this war."

Warren had been one of them, or rather they had once been one with him. Another comrade of West Point gone, a devout man, well liked on both sides.

Benjamin had fallen silent out of respect. At a gesture from Lee he went on. 'There is no real political motive for the War Democrats of the North to continue to support Lincoln, but there is precious little they can do at this moment to stop him. Congress is adjourned, the rats having fled when we first threatened the capital. For all practical purposes Lincoln has a dictatorship at this moment, but he must do something with that, and his lone remaining chance is Grant."

"So you think he will order Grant to come straight at us?" "No, sir, I don't," Judah said quietly. "Pray why not?"

"It's his last card. Lincoln is holding one last card, and he is now looking us straight in the eyes. Once he plays it, well, the drama will be decided as to whether that card is trump or not. I suspect he'll buy a little more time. The War Democrats can announce their withdrawal of support, riots can erupt again in New York and elsewhere, but I think our opponent will not lay that card down until something is in place to hedge his bet with."

"What about France?" Beauregard asked. "I heard that you said their intervention is all but certain."

Beauregard, proud of his French heritage, was always promoting the idea that France would eventually come to their side, as she did back during the First Revolution.

Judah smiled.

"Not a direct quote, sir," Judah replied with a cagey smile, "but close enough. Yes, Emperor Napoleon the Third will come in, but will that impact us here over the next month or two? I doubt it. If he sorties with his fleet to try to break the blockade at Wilmington, Charleston, or even at the mouth of the Chesapeake, I dare say the Yankee navy and heavy ironclads will make short work of them.

"No, the French, as always, will play their own game to their own advantage. They will not help directly, only indirectly, and that will be along the coast of Texas, in support of their mad affair in Mexico. Even if they did break the blockade there, even if they broke the blockade at New Orleans, it would be long months before that impacted this front here.

"And frankly, gentleman, as secretary of state, though I wish for their help now, I certainly do not look forward to cleaning up the mess when we finally win and then have to kick them back out, because once involved on our side they will demand payment of some kind or another."

"So you don't see any change that will affect us here and now?" Beauregard asked. There was a trace of sadness in his voice.

"No, sir. And Lincoln knows that, too. Sorry, gentlemen, but don't look to France for any major changes in the situation you now face here in Maryland"

"Back to the original issue then," Lee said, "the here and now of this moment. For all these reasons, what do you think Grant will do, Mr. Secretary?"

"Wait you out."

"Sir?"

"Just that, General Lee. I heard the report you received but yesterday that a colored division had joined Grant's army. If he waits you out another two weeks, might he not gain another few divisions of colored troops, perhaps a few more battalions of artillery, more supplies, a few more brigades of remounts for cavalry? Might he not actually repair the rail line in the Cumberland Valley clear down to Hagerstown and thus give himself even more mobility? Might he not wait and force you to take the initative and in so doing choose the ground? Perhaps, sir, might he not just simply bypass you completely and march down the valley, cross into Virginia, and march on Richmond?"

"It is hard for me to see him doing that," Lee replied slowly, sipping again at his refilled glass of lemonade. "Moving on Richmond or waiting."

"Your views, sir?" Judah asked.

"If I were Grant, I would attack now, and with everything I have. My army has endured two months of hard campaigning; we took heavier-than-expected losses in our last action."

He could not help but raise his head for a few seconds and gaze again at Pickett, who stood silent, frozen in place.

"Five of the original nine divisions that started this campaign two and a half months ago have taken grievous losses. My sense of Grant is that he will come straight on, hoping to catch us exhausted, perhaps still strung out on a march back to Baltimore. Force us then to turn and fight.

"That is why I ordered this forced march today, no matter how painful it is for the men out there."

He gestured toward the road, where the weary columns continued to march by, and felt a wave of pity for his men. As they passed they undoubtedly knew that, yet again, he was deciding their fate. He had to do what was right for his country, and what was right for them, too. Dozens, perhaps a hundred or more, might die today during this march, but through their sacrifice all could rest in Baltimore, and by tomorrow the situation would be clearer. He pitied the thousands of wounded whom he had ordered to be loaded on ambulances and evacuated by any means possible back to the city. Their ordeal would be horrific this day.

Lee was silent and lowered his head. Tomorrow we shall know. By then it will be clear whether Grant has turned south, coming straight on, or not. We can refit in Baltimore then and plan our next move.

He hated this. He wished that right now telegraph keys were clicking, telling him which way Grant was moving, either coming straight on or, as Hood suggested, swinging wide on a flanking march to the southwest.

In-almost every battle in the past, we knew their intentions. This time it was different, and that was indeed troubling. And yet, at Chancellorsville he had been caught off guard and turned near defeat into an overwhelming victory.