Free Never Call Retreat - Civil War 03 by William R. Forstchen, Newt Gingrich Page A

camped in.
    It was Syms. How the man was keeping to the saddle was beyond him. A local doctor in a town they had passed through had dug the rifle ball out of Syms's calf, bandaged it, and told him to stay out of things for a week. Syms had just laughed, asked the doctor to cut his boot down below the wound and bulky bandage, remounted, and fell back in. Besides, to "stay out of things" would have meant staying behind to be captured by the Yankee cavalry that had been pressing them back all day.
    Duvall had pickets a few miles north of where they were camped, watching the road from Carlisle. The Yankee regiment went into camp at dusk. They had pressed, but not to the point of aggressively seeking a fight, rolling him back, trading shots at long range, probing forward, he retreating a mile or so, and thus it had been all day, with no casualties on either side—just a steady, constant pressure to mask what was behind them.
    It was indeed his old friend Custer. He had spotted him just before sunset, riding in the lead, about a mile off. Strange that he was not coming on more aggressively, Phil thought more than once after confirming who his opponent was. That was an indicator right there that George was ordered not to seek engagement, but just keep pushing him back.
    Syms halted and Lucas stood up to help him get out of the saddle, the man grimacing as he dismounted and hobbled over to squat by Phil's side.
    "Some coffee?"
    "Love it, sir."
    Phil poured him a cup, and Syms took it, looking hungrily at the slices of pork in the frying pan. Phil handed him a fork; Syms stabbed a piece and took a bite, cursing and muttering as he gingerly chewed on the meat, then took a long drink of the hot brew.
    He sat down with a sigh.
    "What do you have for me?" Phil asked.
    "Infantry, lots of infantry."
    "Where?"
    Syms reached into his haversack and pulled out a sketch pad. Drawn on it was a rough map.
    "There's a road here, the one that runs south of the main pike out of Harrisburg. It passes through Dillsburg and on to Petersburg, which we rode through yesterday morning. I circled far out to the left as you told me to. Waited till dark, then cut north using farm lanes and back trails.
    "Their cavalry screen is tight. You can tell someone new is running that show. Before, we used to punch through Stoneman or Pleasanton as a joke. Not now. Every crossroads was manned, every village had at least a troop of cavalry guarding the roads. So it was a lot of cutting through fields and keeping quiet.
    "Near Dillsburg I finally saw the infantry. Campfires by the hundreds."
    "That puts them fifteen miles due south of Carlisle," Phil said. "It means they're heading this way." "Looks that way."
    "You get any prisoners, identifications of units?" Syms shook his head.
    "I'm lucky just to get back with what I told you, sir. I lost two men coming back; we got jumped crossing a road. We wounded one man and talked to him. He's with Custer."
    "But the infantry?"
    "I can't tell you, sir, but from the campfires it looked to be division strength."
    Their conversation was interrupted by the distant pop of rifle fire. The men camped around Phil looked up, some stood, a few going over their mounts, which had remained saddled through the night, and began to pack up, tying on blanket rolls, checking revolvers for loads.
    "Our friends seem to want another day of it." Phil sighed. He looked over at Lucas, asked for Syms's notebook, and quickly wrote out a message.
    Detachment, Third Virginia Fifteen Miles Northwest of Hanover
    Report has arrived that this night Union infantry in division strength camped at Dillsburg. Am facing at least a regiment of Custer's command. Will fall back toward Hanover.
    Captain Duval
    He tore the sheet off and handed it to Lucas.
    "Ride like hell to Hanover. Be careful, they might have tried to slip around us during the night. Get this message telegraphed to h eadquarters. Wait there for me. I suspect we'll not be far behind you."
    Phil leaned