Near Allentown, Pennsylvania
May 1864
John Burgoyne insisted on riding his horse at the head of the long column of British soldiers and wagons, currently making its way through Pennsylvania en route to New York and, eventually, Canada. I led the army into the United States, and I shall lead it back out, he thought. It wouldn’t do to ride in an ambulance or supply wagon.
While Burgoyne was not naturally curious about land and topography, except as it related to warfare and defenses, he had to admit it was beautiful country. Untouched by war, tidy and neat, like home, and so unlike the area around Washington. A clear delineation between north and south. The south is ramshackle, he mused. A wonderfully descriptive word.
Major Packenham rode up and settled in alongside the general. “Sir, General Campbell should like to know where you plan to make camp this evening.”
Burgoyne smiled, a tired smile, and said, “General Campbell will know we’re making camp when the column stops, and the men pitch their tents.”
Packenham rode in silence for a minute, then replied, “Yes sir. When the column stops.” He wheeled his horse and rode back toward Campbell somewhat slower than he had rode from him.
Burgoyne laughed to himself. I should like to hear how Thomas phrases that to our Scots terrier.
Half an hour later Packenham was back, looking none the worse for his encounter with Campbell. He’ll go far, thought Burgoyne. As well he should. The future of the Empire rests on the shoulders of such men. Perhaps Thomas will have the opportunity to lead an army on an adventure such as this someday. And perhaps he’ll be up to the mark in a way that I was not.
Burgoyne found himself thinking, yet again, about the Battle of Gaithersburg, as the Northern newspapers were calling it. Or, inevitably, the Gaithersburg Races. Had he let the army down? The queen? Or had it been one of those moments when a single man seized history by the scruff of the neck and bent it to his will. McClellan. It will never do to underestimate your enemy.
Burgoyne knew that, in fact, it was both. Yes, McClellan had perhaps changed the course of history through one incredible act of leadership and bravery. But Burgoyne knew, without saying the words, that he had let the army get lazy in the weeks encamped north of Washington City. They were unprepared for Grant’s surprise attack, and it was his job to see that they were always prepared.
After sixty years in the field Burgoyne didn’t need a watch to tell him the time of day. The sun was an hour from setting, and he turned his horse off the dirt road into a farm field and reined it to a halt. He looked around, saw open fields, nearby woods, and a small stream, and said with a smile, “Now Thomas, you can inform General Campbell that we shall camp here for the night.”
Packenham watched as he slowly lowered himself from the saddle and handed the horse’s reins to a staff officer. Then the general did the unthinkable. He lay down in the grass and was asleep in an instant. It had never occurred to Packenham before that General Burgoyne was old, but now he saw before him a very old man taking a much-needed rest. Thomas shouted to the staff officers and dragoon escort, “We shall make camp here,” then wheeled his horse and cantered off to find Campbell.