"The battle was already on. I delivered General Grant's orders to disengage, but General Sickles argued that the battle had begun and he was driving them."

"Was he?" Lincoln asked.

"Yes, sir, and frankly, sir, once something like that starts, it's kind of hard to stop it. It looked as if Sickles did have the advantage over the rebels at that moment."

"Should he have disengaged anyhow?" Lincoln asked.

"Well, sir, at that moment, I guess not. He had two corps on our side tangling with but two divisions. But the point is, sir, if not led about so deliberately, I could have gotten up there before the battle even started. I had no doubt that General Sickles had the whole thing planned out."

Lincoln nodded thoughtfully.

"And the end of the first day?"

"Well, sir. They broke Pickett. Broke him badly. I saw that, but they pressed in too aggressively in pursuit, then ran smack into at least two more Confederate divisions and got mauled. I think, sir, at that moment it was obvious that all of General Lee's army was coming up and the battle had turned."

"Did Sickles see that?"

"Yes, sir, but he kept exclaiming that he now had Lee where he wanted him. I tried to press him yet again to follow the commander's orders. That, come morning, he would be facing superior numbers, while acting against the orders of the commanding general as well."

"But he pressed in anyhow." "Yes, sir, he did." Ely sighed.

"He had to," Elihu interjected. "He was going for all or nothing."

"What happened then?"

"General Sickles misread Lee's intent, believing he was retreating. Sir, I would not care to second-guess a general on the field."

"Least of all General Grant," Elihu said with a bit of a smile.

"That's been my only experience up till then, sir," Ely replied. "But General Sickles had not yet fixed where Lee's new corps, under Beauregard, might be located. He pressed in anyhow and walked straight into a trap, Beauregard coming out on the right flank of the army and rolling it up.

"I was with General Sickles when he lost his leg. With that, sir, command broke down completely."

"There's a report that Sickles had his men carry him along the volley line, shouting for them to hold on," Lincoln said.

"Yes, sir. I'll give the man that. He had guts."

"Too much, I dare say," Elihu said coldly. "The ball should have taken his head off. He's already giving interviews in Philadelphia proclaiming the battle could have been a complete victory had not Grant failed to back him up as planned."

"That's a contemptible lie, sir," Ely snapped angrily. "General Grant up in Harrisburg had no idea that Sickles, a hundred miles away, was moving. It would have taken four days, at least, for Grant to come down and offer support. There was no plan. To say otherwise is a lie, a damned lie."

"I know that," Washburne said soothingly. "But there are a lot of people out there who won't."

"Sir, he directly disobeyed orders." 'Technically, no," Lincoln said quietly. Again he looked over at Elihu and then put his finger on the telegram resting on the table.

"He did have authorization from our secretary of war." There was a long moment of silence.

Lincoln lowered his head, nibbing his brow with both hands. 4That does it," he finally whispered and stood up, going to the door. He stepped out of the office for a moment, Elihu watching him intently as he left "Your trip down here?" Elihu asked, finally looking back at Ely.

"I fell back to Havre de Grace sir. Once things broke down I thought it was my duty to report back to General Grant. Back across the river, sir, well, it was a madhouse there-wounded, broken troops, reporters shouting questions. By luck I saw one of General Grant's staff carrying the dispatches I have just given to the president. I took over that mission, sir. I thought it best to report directly on what I had seen as well, and I had the courier carry my report back to the general."

"Right decision, Major."

Ely leaned over and picked the coffee cup back up, draining the now tepid drink. Lincoln came back into the room and looked over at Ely, who stood up, sensing that his mission was complete and it was time to retire.

Lincoln extended his hands, gesturing for Ely to sit back down.

"I think you should stay a little longer, Major." Elihu shifted, stood up, and started to button his shirt. "Sir? Perhaps we should deal with this on our own," Elihu asked.

"I believe our major should see this," Lincoln replied, even as he sat down and struggled to put his boots on. "I want him to report it to General Grant exactly as he sees it"

Ely, a bit confused, looked at the two. Obviously, given the way Elihu was putting on his tie and then his jacket, something momentous was about to happen.

Lincoln said nothing, finishing with his boots and then running his fingers through his coarse hair. He walked to the window and looked out. Elihu settled silently back on the sofa and closed his eyes.

Ely felt uncomfortable, not sure why he was still there or what was about to happen. He filled another cup with coffee and drained it. He wished he could smoke, longing for the cigar in his pocket, but unsure of the proper protocol, he refrained.

The minutes dragged by, Lincoln silent by the window, Elihu drifting into sleep, the clock striking seven. Finally, Lincoln stirred.

"He's here."

The president turned away from the window, picked up the memo from the table, while nudging Washburne awake, and then stood in the center of the room.

Washburne stood up, and Ely did as well. Not sure of his place, he stepped back a few feet while Elihu walked over to stand behind Lincoln.

There was a knock on the door. When it opened, Ely immediately recognized Edwin Stanton, the secretary of war. The man came into the room, a bit of a smile on his face, which froze when his gaze rested on Lincoln, Elihu behind him. He shot a quick glance at Ely, who again felt self-conscious. He suddenly realized what a sight he must be, not having changed uniforms in over a week, mud splattered, face streaked with sweat, mud, smoke.

Stanton regained his composure and actually bowed slightly to Lincoln.

"Mr. President, you sent for me?"

"Yes, Edwin, may I introduce you to Maj. Ely Parker of General Grant's staff?"

Edwin spared another quick glance at Ely, who came to attention and saluted. Edwin did not reply and then turned back to Lincoln as if Ely was not even there.

"Sir, may I inquire as to the nature of this early morning call? I was over at the War Office reviewing dispatches when your summons came."

Lincoln extended his hand, offering the memo that Ely had delivered.

"Sir, let us not beat about the bush," Lincoln said coldly. "I just wish for you to explain this dispatch. Major Parker delivered it to me less than an hour ago. I should add that Major Parker was with Sickles at Gunpowder River, bearing a message from General Grant to General Sickles ordering him to withdraw. An order which General Sickles refused to comply with. Now, sir, please read what I've just handed you."

Edwin visibly paled, coughing, then held the memo up, adjusting his spectacles. He scanned the message.

"Sir, I am not sure of the meaning of this inquiry," Stanton said even as he read.

"When finished, please turn it over," Lincoln said.

Stanton did as requested, reading Grant's addendum, "Mr. President, did you authorize this?" and handed the message back to Lincoln.

"Sir, I think, yet again, there has been some miscommunication."

"Miscommunication?" Lincoln said softly, and shook his head. "Miscommunication? The Army of the Potomac all but annihilated and you call it a miscommunication?"

"Sir. I suspect here that General Grant failed to properly coordinate with General Sickles regarding the intent of the plans for the campaign. I warned you of that last month when Grant first came to Washington. If he had stayed here as I requested, this never would have happened."