8.

The life of a spymaster for the War Department had its consolations. For one thing, I was appointed a horse to ride, while it seemed every other man in the world must walk. All that day I rode while the Army of the Potomac moved past me in a never-ending line, a human chain that stretched as far south as vision permitted, and went away from me to the north just as far. The dust they stirred up with their boots made a pall that rose on the air and hung there, like some spirit host of Araby made of sand. All day they tramped by, with calls and halloos from the drivers of the mule trains, and some singing, though not much.

This was just after Chancellorsville, when all hope seemed vain. Though outnumbered, Lee had trounced us yet again without breaking a sweat. He seemed invincible; surely that was the common belief. The Union has never known a darker day. The war had turned against us and even I believed the dream of a unified Union was doomed. Perhaps this helps explain what we did, and what we dared.

I was headed deep into Maryland, and away from Virginia, for which I was glad. I’d learned much from my contacts behind the lines, and needed promptly to report. From some runaway slaves who’d been attached to Jeb Stuart’s supply lines, I’d heard that Lee was moving again, and this time the enemy was headed north.

A very charming Southern belle, who was in secret a hater of slavery, had told me even more. Lee was headed for Pennsylvania. For the first time he intended to bring the war to us, to the North. Already the democrats in Congress were howling for an end to this war. Well, it looked as if they might get it, but on Jeff Davis’s terms.

—THE PAPERS OF WILLIAM PITTENGER