The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (84 page)

___________

Sudley Springs

8:15 a.m
.:

    Captain Wilder was waiting with his elite scouts when I Corps’ lead columns reached the Springs. Colonel Felton, commanding the Corps’ 1
^st
Division, 1
^st
Brigade, was to the fore, riding his big grey, as he led the lead 1
^st
Ohio Infantry to the edge of the ford. The Ohioans, veterans of the Black Hawk wars, immediately and unceremoniously plopped down to rest and eat.

    “What have we got here, Captain? Any sign of the Rebs?” Felton remained in the saddle, leaning forward as he petted his horse’s mane and squinted eastward.

     “They’re set up behind the Run as far as a half-mile or so east of the Stone Bridge, just like yesterday, Colonel. But some of the scouts report signs of major concentrations in the woods to the right of Matthews Hill, across that road down there.” Tom pointed to the Manassas-Sudley Road visible some distance away.

      “Does General Wool know about this?”

     “I sent word about an hour ago, Colonel. But neither my messenger nor a response has come back.”

      Felton grunted and twisted around in the saddle as another 1st Brigade regiment began arriving at the ford. While more fashionably dressed than the Ohioans---whose ‘uniforms’ demonstrated a lived-in, comfortable look---these troops too exhibited an independent-minded spirit. They paid little mind to protocol---and even less to their officers---plopping themselves down even more unceremoniously. The newcomers, too, began to dig into their rations. The Colonel shook his head at the new arrivals.

    “I thought I knew all the states in the Dominion; territories, too.” He gestured toward the new arrivals’ flag. The image of a red-haired woman in a flowing blue robe, carrying what appeared to be axes, was displayed on an otherwise all-white banner. The motto “Een Draght Mackt Maght” was printed in bold letters under the figure. Above it, in even bolder letters:  “1
^st
Brooklyn.” 

     Felton grinned. “Look at that gibberish. What is it, German? Listen to ‘em. Whatever they’re speakin’ don’t sound like English to me. When I first saw them, I thought: ‘has Matty Van gone and hired us some mercenaries?’”

      Tom stared at the flag before shifting his gaze to the now-reclining troops. “Colonel,” he said with a grin, “these troops speak the King’s English in its truest form. Even if that motto is in Dutch. Means ‘In Unity There Is Strength,’ the official motto of the great independent City of Brooklyn, N.Y which, by the way, is my home town…” He turned as he heard his name called out.

     “Tommy, am I glad to see you! Wait till Father George finds out...”

     The Captain looked over at the grinning young lieutenant now on his feet and coming toward them. “Joe, what are you doing here? I didn’t know you’d joined up!” He jumped down from his horse and looked at Felton. “Excuse me a moment, Colonel. That’s my little brother.”  Felton smiled and nodded as the brothers embraced. ”Make it quick Captain, I believe General Wool has finally appeared.” He pointed to a party of approaching riders from the northwest.

        “Joe, get back to your men. But first, what’s this about George?”

        “Our revered older brother’s here, Tom. Came down with us. The regimental chaplain, they call him. Should be up any minute.”

      The arrival of the General’s party ended the reunion and Tom came to attention, though Colonel Felton continued to lounge comfortably on his horse.

       Wool looked sourly at the Captain and then turned his attention to the east. “Well Captain, your report?”

       “That’s Matthews Hill in front of us, Sir. Unoccupied. They’ve fortified behind the south bank of the Run about a half-mile east of the Stone Bridge as I reported.”

       “So we’ve gotten behind them as I planned, correct Captain?”

        “Behind their troops at the Run, yes Sir. But we continue to observe movement in those woods to the south, General.  Across that road.” Tom once again pointed in the direction of the Manassas-Sudley Road.

       Wool turned to an aide who Tom did not recognize. The aide shrugged. “Probably some cavalry, Sir. Most likely been tracking our advance and are waiting in the woods to observe our next movement.”

        Wool nodded.  The 1
^st
Division’s commander, Col. Ethan Allen Hitchcock, shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, his lips puckered and his eyes blank.

        “General, request permission to search those woods again. While the rest of the Corps comes up. Just to be safe, Sir.” Tom looked past Wool to Felton, who was observing the exchange quizzically.

        Wool shook his head negatively. “No need, Captain. They’re obviously concentrated along the stream. Even if their cavalry has spotted our column, they haven’t had time to move into those woods in force. No, we’ll put out a skirmish line, but we won’t engage until we reach the Pike.”

         
I wouldn’t be so sure, General.
Tom saluted and backed away, then looked reflexively at Felton. Colonel Felton remained poker-faced but was pointedly looking off to the southwest. Hitchcock, whose grandfather’s capture of Fort Ticonderoga could legitimately be said to have ignited the chain of events that had led to this day, turned again in the saddle, shaking his head.

        Wool and his aides conferred privately with Hitchcock before calling Felton and the commander of the 1
^st
Brooklyn, who had arrived during the discussion about the woods, to join them.      

     Tom, meanwhile, had glanced over at Sergeant DeGraw, who now enunciated his opinion with a record-breaking expectoration of tobacco juice. The Captain was making his way toward the Brooklyn soldiers when his younger brother reappeared with a gaunt figure in a blue uniform devoid of insignia.  Tom grinned and embraced him.

      “George, when did these cheeseheads get religion? Don’t tell me you’ve been converting them?” He indicated the Brooklyn men, who were mainly---and plainly---of Dutch descent.

       His brother smiled: “I’m working on them, Tom. But it’s hard to reform the Reformed… Anyway, where have you been? We looked for you at Carlisle and Alexandria. Say, you’ve made quite the impression on Mrs. Latoure. She had us to dinner once I identified myself. Spoke most warmly of you.”

      Tom fought back the blush, wondering how he could actually feel embarrassment with the enemy right in front of them. “Was Lucille there? No, still in Georgetown, huh? Well, Cranford’s some place, isn’t it?” He heard his name called and turned to see one of Wool’s aides beckoning him. “Take care of yourself, George. And take care of Joe. I believe we’re about to run right into the whole damn Reb army… Begging your pardon, of course, Father…”

___________

Warrenton Pike East

Of Stone Bridge

10:15 a.m.:

      His Corps had been in place since dawn and now sat baking in the ungodly sun, whose rays sliced through the tree branches.

    
How the hell can it still be so damn hot? And where the hell is that damn Wool? No word, no sign, no noise!

     General Worth paced back and forth on a small hill---little more than a long mound---that commanded views of both the Bridge and Lewis Ford. His men were concentrated from the Bridge approaches down to Ball’s Ford. Colonel Buford had his artillery ready to blast across the Run at all the crossings to soften up the enemy before the advance.

    
The question is: how much longer do I wait? God damn that Wool!

     “General, rider coming across the Pike.” He spun around in time to recognize Captain Wilder making his way through the massed troops.
Now maybe we’ll find out what Wool’s up to…about damn time!

   
Directed to the General, Tom quickly delivered Wool’s message: I Corps had reached Sudley Springs unimpeded and clearly behind the enemy defenses. The 1st Division would commence its advance to and over Matthews Hill at 1030 hours. Unless unanticipated resistance is encountered, the Division will be positioned to attack the enemy rear south of Stone Bridge by 1130 hours. The 2
^nd
Division will follow. It is highly desirable that II Corps be prepared to commence its attack no later than 1100.

    The slapping of his gauntlets against his right thigh was the only outer indication Worth permitted of his inner rage. He turned slowly and gazed back across the Run before addressing an aide. “How about that, Major? Think we can ‘be prepared to commence attacking by 1100?’ After all, that allows us just 45 minutes to give the order to open fire…”

     He turned back to Tom. “When did I Corps reach Sudley, Captain?”

    Tom looked straight into Worth’s coal-black eyes. “Lead elements---the 1
^st
Division’s 1
^st
Ohio and 1
^st
Brooklyn---reached the fords before 0900 hours, General. The 2
^nd
Division was still coming up when I left to find you, Sir.”

     “Not quite the stroll in the woods General Wool was anticipating, was it Captain?” The disgust was evident in the shake of Worth’s head. His next question was devoid of sarcasm, however. “Is the way clear all the way down to the Pike, Captain? Should resistance be…unanticipated?”

       Tom looked south across the Run, where the Rebel forces were clearly visible. “General Wool is correct that Matthews Hill is unoccupied all the way down to the Pike, Sir. But…”

      “But that’s another long, hot march, isn’t it Captain? Out in the open, under this damn sun. Is that what you’re saying? That I Corps may arrive too exhausted to fight?”

      “That’s a…concern…General. But…”

       “But what, Captain? You’re the damn scout. Tell me what you’ve scouted!”

        “General, there’s thick woods adjacent to Matthews Hill on the south side. Separated by a road. Some of my scouts claim the Confederates are there in some force…”

        “Didn’t you probe the woods yourself?”

        “My orders were to await the arrival of the Corps at the fords, Sir. When General Wool arrived and I reported the scouts’ suspicions, he denied my request to reconnoiter the woods. Said the Rebels hadn’t had time to move any significant force in there.”

      “…But you don’t agree, do you Captain?”

       “General, my men have been trading shots with Reb patrols for days. Even this morning. The Rebs know a large force has moved to the northwest. If that intelligence has gotten back to their high command, even this morning, they may well have had time to move into those woods…”

         Worth was glaring at his staff. “Depending on whether they have a reserve to commit. And depending on just how deep they are over there.” He indicated the Confederate positions to the south.

      Worth’s aide spoke up: “General, it’s getting toward 1100 hours. Shall I send the order to open up as requested?”

       Worth nodded. “Tell Colonel Buford to open up as planned at 1100. At 1115, the attack on the Bridge will commence. Simultaneously, assaults at both Lewis and Ball’s fords will commence. Get word to all commanders.”

        He looked over at Tom. “No sense you heading back the way you came, Captain. Stay put. I’ll make use of you shortly.”

___________

Confederate Position in the Woods

West of Manassas-Sudley Road

11:30 a.m.:

      From the sound of it, all hell had broken out southeast of their position 15 or 20 minutes ago. Few of these troops had ever heard a cannonade erupt in anger and were naturally awed. Even General Twiggs himself was surprised by the sheer volume of the noise:
apparently Joe Johnston’s artillery on Henry Hill is answering the Dominion cannonade. That probably signals the start of their advance across the Run. Now if Sidney Johnston can contain the main body, I can cut up this force coming down from Sudley.

     The pickets were coming in now from their positions on and around the crest of Matthews Hill.
That means the blue troops will be visible in no time…

       He turned to his aides. “Get the men up. We’ll be moving across the road in a few minutes.” He looked at Bedford Brown, resplendent in his fine grey jacket with the gold braid. “Well Colonel. Is North Carolina ready?”

       Brown, the first---and one of the few---fire-eaters to put on a uniform, nodded nervously. “North Carolina is ready, General.”
I just hope to God I am.

       Dominion flags were now popping up on the crest of Matthews Hill. Skirmishers were cautiously moving about. Riders followed slowly, as if on parade. Eyeballing them through his binoculars, Twiggs could see crusty old Wool among them. He identified several other officers, though not the tall powerful man on the grey horse now arriving at the head of infantry
. One of their militia leaders, no doubt. Well, welcome to a real fight, Mr. Militia. Commencing in about five minutes…

      The Dominion line of march offended Twiggs in every possible sense. Because the   rag-tag advance was so unprofessional, it would be harder to attack: they were so spread out the key initial volley would lose much of its punch.  An artillery-based ambush from the flank was supposed to turn an orderly advance into chaos
.  This advance is already in chaos!
 

    The Dominion skirmishers were out in front again as they moved down the hill. They looked to be Regulars; but where were the outriders? There were none on either flank.
Wool must think we’re all committed at the fords; he thinks he’s behind us! Thinks he’s going to come down this hill and get in our rear!

     The clamor from the woods to the southeast went on.
There must be a hell of a fight going on in there. I hope Sidney’s holding…