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A few hours later, and we were pulling into the New Jersey Avenue station; this building, with its grand entrance and imposing clock tower, had been used by Lincoln when he arrived in the city short months before. I found the coincidence amusing, but at the same time I had to grit my teeth at the delays we had encountered.
Lee had given us a week to get to Washington, investigate, and make our escape. Even though we had left that day, already we had lost three full days, and most of a fourth, just making our way here. Part of that was due to our circuitous travel to Harpers Ferry, but we could’ve made up some of that time if we had taken the B&O line direct from there to Washington; even diverting to Baltimore wouldn’t have cost us much time, as the trains ran constantly on that 40-mile span of track. I sighed with frustration- it didn’t do any good to dwell on things, Casey had turned out to be untrustworthy, and Levi’s comments about his motives convinced me of the wisdom in our diversion; if we had stayed on the railroad, as he suggested, he would have been able to track our movements, provide them to our pursuers- maybe even delay us. No, we had made the best choices under the circumstances. Besides, I reasoned, with Sarah keeping close to Gordon, the chances of us being identified by anyone other than our pursuers had gone down drastically. Any alert would be focused on two men, not a married couple or one man riding alone.
We had decided to stay in the Willard Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue, as it was close to the White House and was frequented by the senior military officials we would need to make contact with. Although risky, I rationalized that militia officers were arriving all the time, and would want to set themselves up in a prominent place. We wouldn’t stand out from the other newly-appointed colonels and generals, and those still seeking appointments, so the only real risk was in our documents. As they were drafted on official stationery, and accompanied by official seals, this seemed a small risk to take.
I retrieved both horses and set out for the hotel. Gordon was going to take Sarah on a tour of the city before arriving at the hotel; he said this was to allow sufficient time between our arrivals, but I was convinced he had ulterior motives. I didn’t mind, we weren’t going to be getting started that day. His delay would allow me to make introductions and determine our reception, so we could plan accordingly.
It was only a little over a mile to the hotel, right through the heart of the city. I passed the Capitol building, with its unfinished dome, and rode toward the White House. I hadn’t had much opportunity to explore the city during my brief stay here prior to resigning, but some of the area’s landmarks were familiar to me, and I easily found my way to the hotel- in point of fact, it was pretty much straight down Constitution Avenue, but I congratulated myself on remembering the way. A brisk trot brought me to the hotel, where I engaged a groom to take my horse while I went to register.
Once inside the elegant lobby, with its luxurious furnishings of gold and marble and frosted glass, I was overwhelmed by a sea of blue uniforms; the room was teeming with Federal officers, most of them senior- I quickly identified no less than five brigadiers, eight full colonels, and six lieutenant colonels, accompanied by swarms of lower-ranking staff. Passing them on the way to the front desk, I noticed many wearing state-issued uniforms, including Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York- clearly, we were in the right place as militia officers reporting for Federal service.
The front desk clerk was middle-aged, with wire-rimmed spectacles which gave his face an owlish look. He greeted me brusquely as I approached. “What can I do for you, young man?”
I fished a packet of papers out of my coat. “My name’s Binghamton, Lt. Colonel, Washington Volunteers. You should be holding rooms for me and for Colonel Sheffield.”
The man looked startled, then dragged a ledger from beneath the desk. “Hmm, the name doesn’t sound- let me just look in here,” he was scanning the ledger, looking for our names; he couldn’t find them for the simple fact that I hadn’t made any reservations. I’d learned how to get rooms without telegraphing my movements long ago, and had the routine choreographed perfectly by now.
“What! You don’t have our rooms ready? We telegraphed weeks ago stating we’d be arriving today or tomorrow. I have a confirmation here,” I paused, sorting through the pile of documents. “Letter from the Governor, expense voucher, letter of introduction, commission...” I talked more to myself than to the clerk, but loud enough so he could hear the list of credentials at my disposal. “I seem to not have the confirmation, it must be with the Colonel. Very well- let me speak with the hotel manager at once! I don’t expect this kind of service at a hotel with this reputation, and I will not accept it!” As my voice raised, several of the officers turned to see what the disturbance was about. One or two ambled closer, much to the alarm of the clerk.
“I’m terribly sorry Sir, there must be some mistake- no need to call for the manager, I can give you two rooms right away, no trouble at all. I have two single rooms available with a nice view of the city.”
“I’m afraid the Colonel is accompanied by his wife, he’ll need accommodation for two.” My interruption flustered the clerk even more, and he turned red with embarrassment as even more officers showed an interest in our conversation. He pulled out another book and began frantically turning pages, trying to identify an available room.
“Excuse me, Sir,” said a deep voice at my side. “Perhaps I may be of assistance?” I turned to see a major wearing the dark-blue straps of a staff officer and the long beard of a Biblical prophet. He gave a short bow and introduced himself. “Rennard, Major Phillip Rennard, of General McDowell’s staff.”
This was a stroke of monumental good fortune- General McDowell was in charge of the Army of Northeastern Virginia, the very force poised to invade Virginia, and our primary target. I introduced myself with a firm handshake. “Binghamton, Samuel- I go by Sam- Washington Territory Volunteers.” This was it- if I was going to run into any serious question, it would be now.
“Good to meet you. I hadn’t heard that Washington Territory was being asked to provide any troops?” He wasn’t accusing, not yet anyway.
“We weren’t, but a number of us felt we should do our part anyway. We support the Union and aren’t about to stand by and let it be torn apart. We’ve got problems with the Indians, and the British, and I can tell you, we need a strong Union to keep the peace- if they perceive weakness, they’ll be on us in no time. There was a huge rush of volunteers, enough to fill one regiment and part of a second- we’re waiting on men from the eastern part of the territory to arrive, but I expect there will be enough to complete it. I’m the second in command of the 1st Washington Volunteers, but that will change once we get the rest of the men. We should be able to get them here in a few months, assuming the war lasts that long.”
Rennard smiled. “Well Colonel, I can assure you that General McDowell appreciates your zeal and patriotic spirit. I’m afraid the war will be over well before your men will arrive, but they’ll no doubt come in handy as we move to dismantle the Rebel militias and restore order through the South.” His arrogance was palpable, and I had to grit my teeth and smile at his assessment. “But that’s the future. For now, will you do me the honor of switching my room for your colonel? I happen to have a suite for business, but I have my own quarters.”
“That is most kind of you Major. I’m sure the Colonel will greatly appreciate it.” I took a look around the room. “Did I arrive at an inopportune time?”
He waved his hand, “Not at all, not at all. We’ve been meeting about this time every afternoon to review our preparations, logistical needs, unit assignments and so forth. Lots of new regiments arriving every day, and the afternoon meeting gives us an opportunity to meet the new arrivals and begin integrating them into the command structure. Afterwards, there’s a bit of a,” he paused, “social gathering.” I interpreted that to mean they sat around drinking. “Perhaps you would be good enough to join us for the meeting? And your colonel, of course, once he arrives?”
“Delighted, just let me register for my room and drop off my bags, and I’ll be right down.” I turned back to the clerk, who had the ledger and a pen ready for my use. That completed, I faced Rennard once more. “Now, to whom should I deliver my letter of introduction?” Rennard indicated he would be the right person, so I delivered the packet to him and went up to my room.
Once inside, I took a deep breath. So far, so good- if I wasn’t arrested in the next few minutes, it was likely we’d be in the clear. I opened the windows to see if I could escape that way- there was a narrow balcony, but it looked as though I could leap to the next balcony and so on to elude pursuit. My escape route identified, I returned to the lobby.
When I came back, I found Rennard in deep discussion with a full colonel. I walked over to them and made my presence known; Rennard introduced the colonel as the commander of the Washington defenses, commenting that he and the colonel were discussing the employment of my regiment upon their arrival. The colonel was somewhat aloof, and made rather pointed comments about the quality of territorial militias; had I not shared his views, I would’ve been insulted. As it was, I tried to feign irritation at his suggestion that ‘my troops’ were only suitable as guards- I think I was successful, as they both attempted to placate me. Rennard returned my documents and informed me that he was having his clerk draw up a list of officers I should meet with and meetings I should attend, so we could begin integrating into the overall command structure. He was a busy man, full of nervous energy, but also very full of his own sense of importance. As he navigated the lobby, chatting with different officers, he would share his opinion on the value of each unit. There was very little of military importance here, but his assessment of the military capabilities of the component forces could be useful, I thought.
The afternoon passed swiftly, and soon it was time for the social hour. We toasted Lincoln, Seward, Scott, the Constitution, the United States, and so on. Then we moved on to toast the death of Jeff Davis, of secession, of traitors, and along down to individual states and officers who had resigned. On the whole, it was a fairly unpleasant experience as each toast was accompanied by bloodthirsty cries for revenge and death and mutilation; the saving grace, if there was one, was the fact that most of these men were so incompetent that they’d trip over their own feet when it came to advance. Eventually, I made my way back to my room, leaving word for Gordon at the front desk.
The room was elegantly furnished, as befitting the hotel’s grand status. Certainly, it was a far cry from the pantry I had stayed in the night before, but I did miss the preserves ready at hand. I’d have to see about that. I laid out my suit and shook out the wrinkles, wishing I had time to have it pressed. I reflected that most of these officers would expect a ‘territorial’ to be half-wild anyway, so my appearance should be unremarkable.
An hour or so later, there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” I called out, ready to burst out the window if I didn’t like the answer.
“Who do you think it is?” A woman’s voice. I relaxed. Opening the door, I saw Sarah and Gordon standing there, smiling; I ushered them into the room and locked the door behind them.
“Well, how was your day?” Since it was now early evening, I had guessed they had quite an adventure.
Gordon looked tired. “We spent the day walking about, visiting gardens and galleries. My feet hurt. I’m tired and want to go to bed. But you said we needed to talk, so here we are. I take it we’re not arrested?” He was a bit grouchy, so I looked to Sarah. She seemed annoyed at his complaints and rolled her eyes in response to my look. I gathered that she had dragged him all over Washington and he was worn out- too bad. I didn’t feel sorry for him at all.
“Not even close. Yet,” I cautioned. “We’ve established ourselves with General McDowell’s aide, and he’s got me attending a host of meetings tomorrow. You two will need to review the city and see what you can learn about preparations. ‘Our’ regiment is slated for incorporation in the Washington defenses, so it’s natural you’ll be inspecting them. We’ll spend tomorrow finding out what we can about their offensive plans and then make our escape. Two days and we’ll be on our way home.”
“Where will that be, exactly?” Sarah asked sweetly, looking at Gordon. In reply, he leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. I rolled my eyes and stood up, indicating we were finished.
“I’m to receive a list of names tomorrow of officers we should meet. We can review it and determine if there’s anything to learn from meeting with them, or if the list itself would be sufficient. Remember, the goal is to identify when and where they intend to strike, and if possible the order of battle- even if they add new units, it’ll be that much less the cavalry has to do if we can provide the bulk of it.”
Gordon stood, helping Sarah to her feet. “All right Matt, it sounds like a good plan. We’ll head out tomorrow, let’s leave word at the front desk for each other when we return.” We shook hands and he clapped me on the arm, and they left for their suite. Realizing my fatigue at last, I finally went to bed.
The next morning, I found a note shoved under my door. It was my itinerary, just as Rennard had indicated yesterday- I noted the first meeting was scheduled for nine o’clock, in the dining room, which gave me just enough time to get cleaned up and to have some breakfast; donning my good suit, I scrubbed up as best as I could and went downstairs. The lobby was still bustling with activity, and I noticed that several men had set up tables and were conducting business with men in and out of uniform. One man was trying to gain a sympathetic ear to his desire to gain funding for a new device to rapidly create shoes, eliminating the need for hand-stitching. I was skeptical but listened for a few moments. The man’s description of the device’s capabilities seemed far-fetched, so I left and went into the dining room.
Several of the officers from the previous evening were there, and they motioned me to dine with them. The conversation was lively, mostly centered around what they were going to do to the Rebs once they were allowed to fight. This intrigued me, so I asked the speaker to clarify what he meant.
“Well, it’s no secret- we’re ready to march into Richmond, but McDowell doesn’t have the nerve. He keeps asking for more time- bah! We give them more time and they’ll just dig in, it’ll be that much harder to root ‘em out. Hell, even Lincoln’s been on his back about attacking, but he just sits there.” The New York accent was clear, reminding me of my mathematics instructor at West Point.
Another officer chimed in, the broad western accent betraying his origins in Ohio. “What’d you expect? He’s never led troops before, not into battle. Don’t know why they picked him.”
A grizzled major answered that. “Who else could they get? Scott’s too old, half the colonels in the army are too old or went South. Not much to draw from.” New England, but more precise than that, I couldn’t determine.
The first officer offered his opinion. “I hear good things about McClellan, they wanted him to lead militia in three states.”
The major wasn’t following along very well. “Which militia was he taking where now?”
“No, he was asked to lead the militia for Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York, I think it was. So they’ve seen something they like.”
The major turned to me. “You haven’t said much, what’s your opinion?”
I shrugged. “News takes a while to travel to Washington; by the time we hear anything, it’s gone through a hundred different interpretations.”
He nodded. “I can imagine. Do you expect any changes in policy when the new governor takes over?”
I had been chewing, fortunately, so I didn’t have to answer right away- but his question chilled me to the bone. I had checked the newspapers, and there hadn’t been any changes since Wallace had turned down the governorship in April to take a seat as a Representative. We’d used his name on the assumption that there wasn’t anyone to replace him who could question our accounts. “What do you mean?”
“Will Washington still support the Union under the new governor, when one’s appointed? Or will the territory opt to sit out?”
I relaxed a bit. “Oh, my apologies. I wasn’t sure which policy you were referring to. We’re primarily concerned with the Indians, we’ve had our problems with the tribes, so I expect that will remain our first priority- we may be the only regiments from the territory you’ll get. But I don’t believe we’ll be ordered to return home, having pledged our support to the Union.”
“So who do you report to, absent a sitting governor?”
“For now, the Lieutenant Governor will carry out the functions of the territorial government. Or the President can appoint an interim, or even direct a military governor if he determines there’s a threat from outside.”
The officer from New York was curious. “What threat would you face externally?”
“Well, we don’t have one, but theoretically, relations with England could sour, or there could be some flare-up on the border with Canada, and we’d have a hostile nation to our north with command of the shipping lanes. But that’s pretty far off, we’ve good relations ever since the Pig War- neither side wants to disrupt that.”
The old major chimed in. “Pig War?”
I laughed, “That’s what we call it. One of our residents had a pig get loose and tear up a garden belonging to a Canadian. The Canadian shot the pig, and our resident demanded compensation. Believe it or not, it escalated and ended up with a British warship confronting a cohort of troops from California. It was resolved peacefully in the end.”
This seemed to satisfy their curiosity, and the conversation returned to the various ways they planned to divide up Jefferson Davis’ estate once they had burned Richmond to the ground.
Breakfast was followed by meeting after meeting after meeting. Numbers of troops, requisition of tents, supplies, rifles. Discussions on how to move troops into Washington by train without bunching up and wasting space in subsequent trains. Sanitation in camps. Registration of sutlers. Inoculations. In between meetings were informal gatherings of regimental officers who were being grouped into brigades, the men getting to know one another, gauging each other’s strengths. I was fortunate in that our notional regiments had been designated as part of the guard force, so my participation was limited. Still, I was able to move among the groups, listening in on their chatter. The whole affair was impressive for the logistical feat of bringing that many soldiers together in one place, equipping them, and turning them into an army; McDowell was a good organizer, I had to give him that. But what struck me was the amount of bravado present- there was no discussion of the enemy preparations, their capability, manpower- nothing. To these men, the Rebellion (as they called it) was an assembly of rabble of the lowest order, who would run at the first sight of organized troops. When I questioned the readiness of their troops, the training they were receiving, anything which might indicate they were actually serious about fighting as an army, I was met with a range of reactions from patronizing condescension to outright hostility as though I were impugning the reputation of their prowess as fighting men. The only information of any military value was the list of regiments and their commanding officers I’d received from Rennard.
Finally, toward the afternoon, I’d had enough. “Gentlemen,” I began, “I’ve listened to the fine work your regiments will do, and to the great defeat you will visit upon the Rebels, but I must ask- is there an actual plan as to how this will be accomplished?” Several heads swiveled to me, and eyeballs goggled in their sockets like so many goldfish.
A voice cut through the murmurs. “Of course I have a plan, would you like to hear it?” The crush of blue parted and a trim figure in a brigadier’s uniform strode through the gap. “I plan to drive south to Richmond in a quick march, use my cavalry to raid points east and west of the city in order to divert troops away from there, and then charge the assembled defenders before they know what’s upon them.”
Major Rennard appeared at the man’s elbow. “Col. Binghamton, may I present Brigadier General McDowell, commander of the Army of Northeastern Virginia?”
I bowed formally. “Your obedient servant, Sir. My humble apologies if I was speaking out of turn.”
McDowell, waved aside my apologies, “No need, Colonel, I assure you. I want all my men to be clear on our goal- Richmond, the heart of this beast! And I aim to put a sword through it and slay the monster for good!”
This was met with roars and cheers, and McDowell smiled thinly at me as he moved past, accompanied by the throng of officers. I stood, rooted to the spot, as he went by. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it fit with the haphazard manner in which the army seemed to be coming together- as though good intentions and brave talk were all that was needed to end the Rebellion. But coming from General McDowell himself, well- I certainly wouldn't be able to get any better information than that, which meant we could be on our way shortly. I returned to the lobby, to see if Gordon had been in touch. There was no message, so I left one for him, and went up to pack. That task completed, I returned to the lobby and asked the porter to have the groom ready my horse, leaving him my valise. Just then, Gordon came in at a run, white as a sheet. Spying me, he dashed up and grabbed me by the arm, dragging me to an alcove. “We’ve got a big problem,” he said.