Sherman turned quickly from the drawing, his face suddenly drawn. Grant smiled.
“Not that I will, mind you,” he said. “That’s all behind me now that there is a war on. I don’t think either of us did well as we should when we were out of the army. But at least you were a bank president in California — while I was hauling timber with a team of mules and burying my face in the booze every night.”
“But the bank failed,” Sherman said grimly. “I lost everything, house, land, everything I had worked for all those years.” He hesitated and went on, his voice lowered. “Lost my sanity, felt that way at times.”
“But you came out of it, Cump — just the way I came out of the bottle. I guess war is our only trade.”
“And you are good at it, Ulysses. I meant it when I wrote that letter. I have faith in you. Command me in any way.”
Grant looked a little discomfited. “Not just me. Halleck said you should have the command under me. I was more than happy to oblige. You have good friends in this army, that’s what it comes down to.”
“General Grant, sir,” a voice called out and they turned to see the sergeant on the bank above. “Telegraph message coming through from the east. About the British the operator said.”
“This could be it,” Grant said, jumping to his feet.
“I’ll put this away. Be right with you.”
The military telegraph was still clicking out its message when General Grant came into the tent. He stood behind the operator, reading over his shoulder as he wrote. Seized up the paper when he was finished. He clamped down hard on his long cigar, then puffed a cloud of smoke over the operator’s head.
“Stuart,” he called out, and his aide hurried over. “Get my staff together. Meeting in my tent in half an hour. If they want to know what it is about, just tell them that we got a second war on our hands.”
“The British?”
“Damned right.”
Grant walked slowly back to his tent, chewing on his cigar and planning out just what he had to do. Sherman was already there, pacing back and forth. As Grant stamped into the tent he knew exactly what orders had to be issued, what actions taken.
Grant poured out a glass of whiskey from the stone crock and passed it over to Sherman. Looked at the jug and smiled grimly; then pushed the corn cob back into its neck.
“They’ve done it, Cump, actually gone and done it. We are at war again with the British. Without much reason this time. I don’t see how stopping one ship and taking some prisoners could lead to this.”
“I don’t think that there has ever been much reason for most wars. Since Victoria has been on the throne there has always been a war going on somewhere around the world for the British.”
“Little ones maybe, but this is sure going to be a big one.” Grant went over and tapped his index finger against the map that was spread across the sawhorse-supported table. “They invaded New York State right up here and attacked the fortifications at Plattsburgh.”
Sherman looked at the site of the attack, just south of Lake Champlain, and shook his head in disbelief, took a sip of his whiskey. “Who would have thunk it. The British always seem ready to fight the last war when the new one begins.”
“Or even the one before it. Stop me if I am wrong — but didn’t General Burgoyne come that way when he invaded the colonies in 1777?”
“He surely did. And that’s not all. Just to prove that the British never learn anything by experience, General Provost in 1814 did exactly the same thing and attacked in exactly the same way. Got whupped though and lost all of his supplies. Maybe that can happen again.”
Grant shook his head glumly. “Not this time, I’m afraid.” He sat back in his field chair and puffed on his cigar until the tip glowed red. He pointed the cigar at his fellow general and close friend.
“Won’t be as easy this time as it was before. All we got in front of them now is some militia with a couple of old cannon. The British field guns and their regulars will run right over those poor boys. The way I see it, it is not a matter of will they lose, but just how long they will be able to hold out.”
Sherman traced his finger down the map. “Once past Plattsburgh the invading army will have a clear track right down the Hudson Valley. If they’re not stopped they’ll go straight through Albany and West Point and the next thing you know they will be knocking on the door in New York City.”
Grant shook his head. “Except it is not going to be that easy. Halleck has already got his troops loaded onto the New York Central Railroad and is heading north even while we speak. As far as we can tell the enemy has not yet penetrated further south than Plattsburgh. A lot depends on how long the militia there can hold on. Halleck hopes to draw the line north of Albany. If he does I will join him there. He wants me to entrain with as many regiments as we can spare from here and come and support him.”
“How many are we taking?”
“No we, Cump. He is putting you in command when I am gone. How many troops will you need if Beauregard tries another attack at Pittsburg Landing?”
Sherman thought long and hard before he spoke. “For defense I’ll have the cannon on the gunboats that are still tied up on the riverbank. So I can fall back as far as the landing and make a stand there. If you can leave me four batteries and a minimum of two regiments I’ll say that we can hold the line. We can always cross back over the river if we have to. Beauregard won’t get through us. After Shiloh we’re not giving away an inch.”
“I think you had better have three regiments. The Rebs still have a sizable army out there.”
“That will do fine. Are hard times coming, Ulysses?”