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

over, forked a piece of pork, and wolfed it down.
    "Mount up! We move in ten minutes," he shouted.
    Three Miles Southeast of Port Deposit
    August 23, 1863 6:30 A.M.
    T he train, pulling but two passenger cars, slid to a halt, steam venting around the president's legs. The engineer leaned out of the cab, looking at him wide-eyed. "Are you Abe?" the engineer asked. "Last time I looked in the mirror I was," Lincoln said with a smile. The startled engineer quickly doffed his hat and nodded.
    A captain leaning out of the door of the first car jumped down, ran up to him, nervously came to attention, and saluted.
    "Mr. President. I must admit, I can't believe it's really you, sir." "It is."
    "I thought the courier was mad when he grabbed me, told me to round up a company of men, and follow him to the rail yard and get aboard."
    "Captain." Ely Parker stepped forward, the two exchanging salutes.
    "That courier came straight from the War Department. You were, most likely, the first officer he spotted. Did you follow his orders and tell no one what you were about?"
    "Yes, sir. I just rounded up my boys as ordered. I felt I should report to my colonel, but the courier showed me the dispatch with your signature on it, so I did as ordered."
    "Good."
    "May I ask what this is about, Major?"
    "You and your men are to provide escort for the president up to Harrisburg. Absolutely no one is to know who is aboard this train. We'll stop only for water and wood. If but one man gets off the train and says a word to anyone, I'll have all of you up on court-martial before General Grant himself. Do we understand each other?"
    "Yes, sir," said the captain, and he nervously saluted again.
    "Son, I see you have a red Maltese cross on your cap," Lincoln interrupted. "Fifth Corps?"
    "Yes, sir. Capt. Thomas Chamberlain, sir, Twentieth Maine."
    "You were at Union Mills and Gunpowder River."
    "Actually neither, sir. Our regiment was lost at Taneytown on July 2. We were paroled and just exchanged."
    "We'll talk more about that later, Captain. I'm curious to hear your story."
    "Yes, sir."
    "Fine, now get aboard, and let's get moving."
    The captain ran back to his car, shouting at the men leaning out the windows, "Get the hell back inside."
    Ely looked up and down the track. They were several miles outside of Port Deposit, the length of track empty. The fast courier boat that had delivered them to this spot was resting in the reeds, the crew watching the show. Behind them was the broad open stretch of the Susquehanna, Havre de Grace just barely visible half a dozen miles downstream on the other shore.
    Wisps of fog drifted on the river, several gunboats in midstream, anchored. On the far shore a huge Confederate flag, their "unstained banner," which could, when lying flat, be mistaken for a flag of truce, was displayed from the side of a barn.
    He wondered if that just might be an outpost Someone with a telescope could perhaps see what was going on here, yet another reason he had insisted that Lincoln, at least for once, not wear his distinctive top hat and black frock coat, covering himself with a cavalry poncho and a slouch cap.
    The two walked to the back of the train. Without a platform it was a long step up, but Lincoln took it with ease, actually offering a hand back to the far shorter Ely, who was almost tempted to take it, but then pulled himself up. They got on board the car, which was empty except for the staff officer from the War Department who had come up several hours ahead to make the arrangements for the train.
    "A good job, Major Wilkenson," Lincoln said. "All very cloak-and-dagger, something almost out of a play."
    "It was the first good locomotive I could grab and get up here, sir. The engineer says she'll make sixty miles to the hour on the good track up toward Chester. The road ahead is being cleared, with the report there's several wounded generals on board."
    "Very good."
    "I'm sorry the arrangements are so spartan," Wilkenson said,