1862 (33 page)

“What are you going to do?” Monck asked.

Wolsey signalled for pen and paper. “I will note my concerns with Lord Cardigan. Then I shall inform General Gough that I am moving my one remaining brigade towards the north and will deploy it facing that direction. If there is to be a Union counterattack, I believe it will come from that direction.”

“I note that you are not telling Cardigan that you are moving.”

Wolsey grinned wolfishly. “If I were to tell him, he would tell me to stand still and not worry. What he doesn’t know, he can’t change.”

About an hour later, Canadian skirmishers picked up motion in the woodlands to the north. Within moments, a line of Union skirmishers appeared, opened fire, and, after a brief duel, drove the outnumbered Canadians back to their main lines.

“How many?” Wolsey asked as he rode to the sounds of fighting. The best answer he got was thousands. Was it possible? Then came the report of Union cavalry attacking in their rear. Was it a nuisance raid that could be ignored, or an attack in force? Either way, with two of his three brigades already committed, he had nothing to stop it with.

“Jesus Christ! Look at that!” someone yelled. It wasn’t very military but it drew everyone’s attention. Long ranks of blue-coated soldiers were moving into sight, with dozens of horse-drawn cannon moving forward to be unlimbered.

“God.” said Wolsey.

“How many?” Monck looked stunned.

“At least a brigade, with more coming. I would estimate at least two thousand, with possibly many more behind them.”

Wolsey grabbed couriers and sent them forward with verbal messages. To Cardigan he sent the news that he was under attack by an overwhelming Union force. He did not suggest that Campbell’s attack on the Union flank be broken off. That was not his decision to make, although he strongly implied it.

To General Gough went the news of the Union attack and a request that the British Division pull back to help secure the northern flank. Within a few minutes, a reply from Gough said he could hear the sounds of battle behind him and concurred with Wolsey. He would break off and withdraw to support Wolsey’s Canadians as quickly as possible; however, it did appear that the Americans were going to attack and press him as he did so.

The Union force swept forward. It was as inexorable as a strong tide. Massed cannon tore bloody chunks out of the Canadian lines, while the rifles of the Union infantry chewed into the remaining Canadians. A shell exploded and a dozen men went down screaming and pulped. Wolsey ordered a withdrawal to a new position several hundred yards in their rear, and was pleased that they did it in fairly good order. There was no panic. Yet.

The field, however, was littered with the bodies of dead and wounded Canadians. There would be no lives saved today, he thought ruefully. Today the damned piper wanted his due. A British battalion arrived at a run from Gough and it was placed in the Canadian center. American cannon found it immediately and began to pound it to pieces while still more Union infantry came into view. Wolsey angrily revised his estimate of their strength upward. He now thought that maybe twenty thousand opposed him.

A messenger from Lord Cardigan arrived and informed Wolsey that, in Cardigan’s opinion, he was overreacting to an American patrol, and that the situation was well in hand.

“You stupid bastard,” Wolsey snarled at the absent Cardigan.

Wolsey grabbed the messenger, a very young ensign, and turned the boy’s head towards the advancing Union host.

“Tell me, Ensign, what do you see? Is that a patrol or an army?”

“An army, sir,” the boy stammered.

“What will you tell Lord Cardigan? That I am correct or that Governor Monck and I are hallucinating? Will you tell him that General Gough is already withdrawing, or that Gough is also fantasizing?”

The ensign’s eyes were wide with fright and surprise. “I’ll tell him it’s an army, sir, a bloody great Union army coming right towards us.”

Wolsey grinned despite himself. “Good lad. Now tell his lordship what you have seen. Tell him I’m about to be overwhelmed and that General Gough won’t be able to hold them either. Tell them that Grant has tricked us. We don’t outnumber them at all. They outnumber us and by a great many. Tell his lordship that if he wishes to save anything of his army, he had better pull it back now and begin retreating to Hamilton. Now, Ensign, can you remember all that?”

The ensign assured Wolsey that he would and rode off in a desperate gallop. It was only a mile or two at most to Cardigan’s headquarters, but it would take an eternity to get there. He wondered why Cardigan couldn’t hear the sound of fighting behind him. Probably because he wasn’t listening.

Moments later, General Gough arrived on a nearly spent horse. He was angry and flushed red. A few months earlier, he had been planning to retire; now the old fighter was in another battle. “What the devil has happened, Wolsey?”

Wolsey liked the veteran general, whom he had known from India. “The devil’s name is Grant and he has beaten us. Now it is time to save what we might.”

Gough nodded. Again, the Canadian and British lines were being forced back. Not enough could be brought to bear on the Union flank attack to do more than delay it, while other Union forces were moving into the positions vacated by Gough’s men. A gap was appearing between the British and Scottish divisions. Union troops would soon find it and pour through if Campbell didn’t withdraw immediately.

Now there were signs of panic. Men were running past with terror in their eyes. Many had thrown away their rifles and only wanted to get away from this awful place. It came as a shock that a goodly number of the fleeing host wore the scarlet tunic of the British regular. They had fought the battle of their lives and now had no more to give. If the army didn’t retreat soon, the entire British force would be destroyed.

Then the first line of Scottish soldiers appeared, half stumbling and half running. They were exhausted, hollow-eyed, and beaten. If the rest of Campbell’s division was like this, they would be of no use in fending off the Union assault, which continued to grow in intensity. Gough’s division and Wolsey’s one remaining brigade were being destroyed.

“Governor Monck,” Wolsey said, “I strongly urge you to get back to Toronto as quickly as you can before we are cut off.”

“That can’t happen, can it?” Monck said in disbelief.

“Sir, it can and will happen. We will be forced backward by Union infantry while their cavalry harasses our rear. If you are lucky, they will not be concerned with you and your civilian entourage. If you are not lucky, I suggest you surrender and identify yourself immediately so that you are not hanged for a spy. If you should make it safely, please tell Her Majesty’s government what you have seen.”

The clamor of battle had receded to a numbed silence when Nathan rode through the carnage that had once been cornfields and grazing land. The dead of both sides lay where they had fallen, and, as there were far more red coats than blue, gave testimony as to who had won.

Nathan had never seen a battlefield up close. At Culpeper, he had been behind the lines, which had then retreated. This day he was treated to the full scale of horror. The dead had begun to blacken and bloat in the summer heat, while pieces of bodies lay as if from dolls or toys that had been flung about by a destructive child. He found a stack of dismembered corpses and understood the effect of an exploding shell on soft flesh. Flies had begun to accumulate in swarming black clouds, and the stench of blood, bile, and flesh that was beginning to rot was almost overwhelming.

The extent of the carnage made him realize just how trivial his bout with the Apaches had been. It also made him wonder just how a man like Grant, or any other general for that matter, could send men out to die by the hundreds or thousands, and still sleep at night.

At least the wounded had been gathered up, although how much good it would do them was debatable. Once again, the hospitals were overwhelmed with wounded, many of whom were terribly mangled, and a high percentage of the others would develop infections and die. Truth was, many wounded never returned to the war and might as well have been dead.

The retreating British had left their supplies, and many of their guns. A number of British and Canadian wounded had also been left and these were being treated by both their own and the overwhelmed American medical personnel. A few hours earlier they had been enemies; now they lay side by side, silent and broken, waiting for someone to make it better.

The victory had been overwhelming and complete. What saddened Nathan in particular was the number of Canadians whose blood had been spilled. He wondered how many had been at London and had decided to join up again despite promising not to. It would be churlish to feel that they deserved their fate. Nobody deserved to die chewed up by war.

Because of total cavalry domination, General Grant had been able to hide Major General William Tecumseh Sherman’s reinforced corps and send it around the Union left flank. Grierson’s screening cavalry had kept the British in the dark until it was too late. Now Grierson was headed towards Toronto in an attempt to get there first and block the British retreat.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” Rawlins said. “Tell it to the dead,” Nathan muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Yes: it is a marvelous victory. Do we have any numbers yet?”

“Our casualties will be about eighteen hundred, two thousand at the most. Not many: all things considered. As to theirs, we’ve just begun counting, and it appears that there are at least twice that many dead and wounded, with at least two thousand taken as prisoners. We should gather many more as we press them in the morning.”

Night had begun to fall. Even though victorious, the Union soldiers were exhausted and drained by the daylong ordeal. They needed food, water, ammunition, and sleep, and not necessarily in that order. Grant had ordered that they get their rest. There was no point in anyone blundering around in the dark. They would begin again in the morning. If Grierson did his job, the British would be blocked from retreating past Hamilton to Toronto. The British had a head start and: ironically, could travel quickly since they had left so much of their supplies and equipment behind. However, without that equipment, it was questionable as to whether they could punch through Grierson’s dismounted cavalry before Grant’s main body caught them. Two regiments of mounted infantry under the diminutive Philip Sheridan were racing to reinforce Grierson.

Nathan would put his money on Grant.

Nathan and Rawlins passed a large group of dispirited and tattered British prisoners. They were huddled together and guarded by only a handful of equally exhausted Union soldiers. The sight made Nathan begin to realize the totality of the American victory. He also wondered about the brigadier general he’d met in the river at London. Now what did Wolsey think of the American army? In the distance, he heard someone yell “On to Toronto,” and he thought that was a damned fine idea.

General Winfield Scott had been wrong. He was in terrible need of proper administrative help. There were piles of letters and old reports scattered about in the rooms used by Scott, and Rebecca was certain that Nathan was unaware of the mess that had accumulated since Scott’s return from Europe in late 1861. Scott might have a brilliant mind, but he had neither the inclination nor the strength to attend to the paperwork. Sergeant Fromm was scarcely literate, and Bridget confined herself to the kitchen and other housework.

As a result, Rebecca found herself spending more time than anticipated in the large house Scott and Nathan shared. With Nathan gone and with Scott as old as he was, there was no question of impropriety, and Rebecca wondered if she would give a damn if there was.

By reading the general’s correspondence, she got a very clear idea of what was happening, and how the general saw the future course of the war. Any chance she got, she would talk with Scott. This was pleasing to both of them. She enjoyed learning from him, and he enjoyed the company of a sympathetic young woman of intelligence and surprising wit. Sometimes it saddened him, as it reminded him of his life with his departed Maria.

Thus, they were together in his office when news of Grant’s victory at the Battle of Dundas Street came in. There was wild celebration in Washington. The Union cause had been starved for a major victory. Shiloh had been too near a thing to fill the bill, but a victory over the vaunted army of Great Britain was a marvelous tonic. The Imperial British had been bloodied and they had deserved it. Despite some fears for Nathan’s safety, which made her want to wait for more information. Rebecca took a carriage ride with Scott, who, in full uniform, received the cheers of the crowd, which appeared to rejuvenate him. Old Fuss and Feathers loved the crowd and they loved him.

They drove through the throngs by the White House and were admitted briefly to Lincoln’s office. As with everyone who met the man for the first time, Rebecca was astounded by how tall the president was. It was incredible that he was even taller than General Scott.

“It appears I shall have to listen to you more often.” Lincoln said to Scott. “Tell me what you think will happen now.” Scott smiled. He clearly loved being asked for his opinion. “Are the British yet bottled in Hamilton?”

“General Halleck has informed me that they are penned in and unable to move to Toronto. He also told me that the British have evacuated the Niagara forts in anticipation of a long siege at Hamilton, and that General Cleburne’s Irish Legion has crossed the border at Niagara and joined with Grant.”

“Does that mean the Welland Canal is ours as well?”

Lincoln was surprised. “I believe it does. Why?”

Scott smiled more broadly. “I do recall that General Grant operates well in conjunction with naval forces.”

Lord Cardigan had been evacuated by ship. He had suffered a complete emotional collapse and been sent across Lake Ontario to Kingston. He would then go to a hospital in either Ottawa or Montreal, and later back to England whether better or not. Regardless of what would transpire, his long career was over and had ended in disgrace.