"Diversion," Warren replied.

Meade finally looked back at the two. For a moment the combative, dyspeptic look was gone, replaced by an infinite weariness. Henry knew that Meade had not had a moment's sleep since yesterday, had only been in command of this army for five days. It was one thing to command a corps, to receive the orders to take or hold a position; it was an entirely different game to make those orders, orders upon which the fate of this army and the Republic might hang.

"At least send a division down there," Warren said softly. "Fifth Corps is astride the road back to Taneytown. Get a division on the road now, and they can be in Taneytown before dark. If Buford is indeed holding Longstreet at Monocacy Creek, the division can reinforce. If Longstreet is into the town, it will stall his advance. I'll go down with them and send back a report."

Meade did not reply, attention focused back on the map.

'Turning this army around; marching it south, will be a bloody nightmare."

He paused for a moment

"John reported contact with two brigades only. He surmised that Longstreet was behind the attack, but he didn't see it. It could be a diversion. Lee hit us hard last night and we gave him a bloody nose. Maybe he thinks he can't push us off this ground, so he's trying to scare us off instead. We start marching south, then he hits us, storming out from behind that ridge behind the town with us strung out on the roads. It could be that you know."

Warren nodded in agreement "But I don't think it is."

"Listen to me," Meade said coldly, "it's fine for all of you to guess, to think, but if I make one mistake, just one goddamn mistake, I can lose this war."

Don't make the right decision, and we can lose this war as well, Henry thought

"A division," Meade finally said, "Fifth Corps. Crawford's men are rested. Get them on the road, Warren. You go with them. Henry, detach a couple of batteries from the reserve and send them along."

Warren was out the door, in seconds.

Meade caught Henry's eye.

"You want me to go with them?" Henry asked. "If it's a fight for Taneytown, I should scout out the artillery positions."

Meade hesitated.

"My job here is done for the moment All our guns are in position. I've surveyed the line from one end to the other twice. If we are going to shift south, I need to be down there."

"Go."

Henry followed Warren out the door, calling for a horse.

Even as he mounted, the sound of guns, again from the right, thundered. Ignoring them, he spurred onto the road, orderly following, racing to catch up to Warren, who was already off at a gallop.

General Lee reined in, turning to look back toward the seminary on the ridge to the east. The ground before it was still littered with dead Union soldiers and horses. It was a grim sight, the air thick with that sickly, cloying scent

He pulled out his pocket watch… four-thirty. If we had stayed here, it would be happening now, hitting them on both flanks, the wooded hill next to the cemetery, the place the locals called the Round Tops on the other flank. He had observed the strange movement down on the flank at noon, an entire Union corps advancing, and it had caused a heart-stopping moment He had ordered a division from Hill's corps off the line of march, deploying them out in response behind the crest next to the tavern. And then, strangely, the movement had stopped, and they had turned about and marched back to the Round Tops.

Curious, some confusion in orders most likely. It had been a tempting moment though. If that corps, a scout reported it to be the Third, had stayed there, it would have been vulnerable on its left

But no, this was no longer the place. That decision had already been made.

A deep rumbling, Stuart's light artillery continuing their demonstration to the flank of the wooded hill, hopefully fixing the attention of the Union forces. Doctrine always was to have cavalry securing the flank along the intended line of advance. One of Ewell's divisions was still deployed in the open ground north of town, plainly visible, his other two divisions occupying the seminary and the ridge to the south, giving every indication possible that they were preparing to attack. Once darkness settled, they'd pull out, attempting to reach Fairfield before falling out to rest for several hours.

Pickett, who was still on the far side of the mountains, would move, along with the supply wagons, pulling back down the main road from Chambersburg to Greencastle. From there Pickett was to advance over the mountain and come into Emmitsburg, to fall in on the rear of Ewell tomorrow morning.

How far Longstreet had advanced, he wasn't sure. The last dispatch rider, coming in a half hour ago, reported fighting along the creek that bisected the road between Taneytown and Emmitsburg.

This was the vulnerable moment, one that if he contemplated it too much, would freeze up his nerves. Longstreet, with two divisions, might be as far as Taneytown. Hill, so sick he could barely keep in the saddle, was now on the road, the head of his column down to Emmitsburg, the last of the troops now streaming toward Fairfield. Ewell and Stuart were here, and Pickett was still twenty-five miles away.

We are spread out all over the map, and if now, at this moment, Meade should stir and come storming down from those hills, and at the same time dispatch a corps to move on Emmitsburg, the Army of Northern Virginia would be cut to ribbons.

How many times have I courted disaster like this? Chancellorsville, everyone talks about it now, the audacity of Jackson's march; but that was an act of desperation. The Second Manassas campaign, that was a calculated move; but I knew the character of Pope, the bitterness between him and McClellan, and acted accordingly. That was nearly a year ago. If someone on the other side realizes I'm doing it again, this time they just might strike first and catch me on the roads. McClellan almost achieved that last September when one of my couriers lost our campaign plan, and we barely got the army back together in time to stop the Union forces at Sharpsburg. That was so close I spent half the day thinking they might just break through and split our forces. Let's hope Pipe Creek doesn't turn into another Antietam Creek if Meade figures out what I am doing.

An artillery battery, one of Hill's units that had been in yesterday's fight and waited hours for the infantry to pass, came clattering in from a field on the north side of the pike, a staff officer leading the way, motioning for the gunners to start south. The artillerymen silently saluted as they passed; orders had been repeatedly given to all the men that there would be no demonstrations, no cheering.

"Going around 'em again, ain't we, General?" one of the gunners shouted as he rode by, astride the lead trace horse of a three-inch rifled piece.

Lee said nothing, just nodding in reply, and the man grinned, offering a proud, almost exaggerated salute.

"It's going smoothly," Walter Taylor offered.

"As long as they don't stir over there," Lee replied, nodding back toward Gettysburg.

'They won't"

"How do you know that?"

"They never have."

"Someday they just might" Lee said softly. "Remember, this army is all we have, Walter. It's got one more good fight in it and we came too close to using up that fight here. I came too close. I realize now that I was trying to match our blood against the ground those people over there held.

"General Longstreet was right But even if we seize the land south of here, and force those people over there to come at us, they will do it with a fury. We'll finally be between them and Washington, and the cost will be high. When that time comes, and it might be as early as tomorrow, it has to be decisive, not just another hollow victory."