North of Quaker Springs, New York
December 1863
John Burgoyne was astride his horse, at the head of his battered army. As always, first casualty reports had proven wrong, especially the numbers of missing in action. As the day had worn on, scattered units reported in, and he had a fuller picture of the butcher bill. The snow had stopped during the night and the day was crystal clear, cold but windless, the snow beneath his horse’s hooves a soft powder.
McClellan had attacked just before dawn. The sentries had raised the alarm but only when the Union troops were upon them. The attack had come from the south, as expected, but also from the east. McClellan’s troops had crossed then recrossed the Hudson to hit Burgoyne from the one place he assumed he was perfectly safe. If there’d been more light, the Federals might have captured Burgoyne himself, who’s tent was a mere hundred yards from the river.
After the initial shock, the British lines had stiffened. Their officers, many coatless and hatless, had been awakened from their sleep by the first shouts and shots, rallying their men. As the dawn broke it was easier to see, and some order was restored to the British lines. Still, McClellan’s clear advantage in numbers began to tell. He threw blue wave after blue wave at the red defenders, and by mid-morning it was clear to Burgoyne that there was no strategic advantage to standing and fighting. He ordered a fighting retreat, though that turned out to be unnecessary. As the British abandoned the field, in good order, McClellan did not pursue.
Burgoyne was composing his after-action report in his head. Saratoga, New York. British forces under General Burgyone were driven from the field . . . The London newspapers would have a field day.
Enough of that. His job now was to find Gordon, regroup, and go on the offensive. Burgoyne had no choice but to head north. Damned Custer had proven a nuisance indeed. But with luck, Burgoyne would squeeze Custer between Gordon and Burgoyne’s army and force the Yankee boy general to retire. Then Burgoyne could go back for McClellan.
McClellan. I remember him from Crimea. Very impressed with himself. Bookish, well-read. A great believer in the art of war. Well, I certainly didn’t expect him to attack, and to attack from the river. It never pays to underestimate your enemy. But why doesn’t he pursue? The northern newspapers always hinted that McClellan was shy. But he wasn’t shy this morning.
Though his troops had been surprised, and there would be punishment in due course, they had fought well. Some of the men had been on garrison duty for years and had never heard a shot fired in anger. They would want revenge.
“Captain, we’ve heard nothing from Major Packenham since he went south?”
“No sir. But he’ll find us. We’ll be easy to follow in the snow.”
“And Captain, we have dragoons out in strength? We can’t afford for their Mr. Custer to surprise us.”
“Yes sir. It’s General Custer who will likely be surprised to see us.”