Free Valley of the Shadow: A Novel by Ralph Peters Page B

twenty.”
    Ricketts nodded. “Sounds right. What exactly do you intend to do?”
    “Fight.”
    “Here?”
    “Here.”
    “How many men do you have? Of your own?”
    “Twenty-five hundred, a few hundred of them veterans. You?”
    “Five thousand. Total. When my last regiments arrive. And that’s counting every cook.” Ricketts shook his head. “Don’t care for the odds. Good position?”
    “The best defensive line between Frederick and Washington. You’ll see it, come first light. Meanwhile, Colonel Ross can guide any more troops who come in, he knows the ground.”
    “And your objective? In making a stand?”
    Wallace fought a yawn and lost, but there was no point apologizing. “Three things: First, I want to know for sure whether Early’s on his way to Washington, or if he’s headed for Baltimore, after all. That drives every subsequent decision. Second, I want to push aside the curtain and find out how many men he’s really got. I mean, good Lord, he’s marched all the way from Lynchburg, and no one’s certain what his force consists of.” Wallace tried to shake off the weariness gripping him, to speak cogently, urgently. “Third, if his objective is Washington, I want to hold him up as long as possible, give Grant time to transfer a corps or two and save the city.”
    Ricketts stared straight into his eyes. The fellow was cold as an iron bar in January. He considered Wallace’s words, then asked, “You have a plan? That includes my men?”
    Wallace nodded, escaping his weariness in a burst of enthusiasm. “And excellent ground, truly splendid! Since your men began coming in, I’ve shifted my green troops to the right, to cover the fords to the north and the bridge on the Baltimore road. It’s a great deal of ground, but the terrain’s steep this side of the river, and there aren’t many fords up there. I’m gambling that Early’s not going up that way.”
    Struggling to keep his own eyes steady, he met Ricketts’ gaze again. “ Your men will concentrate here, as my left wing. There’s a covered bridge on the Washington road—you could see it from the porch, if we had some moonlight—and an open-deck rail bridge off to its right. Early intends to cross right here, I’m convinced of it.”
    He raised his hands in excitement, as if about to grip Ricketts by the coat. “There’s good ground to anchor the left of your position, I think you’ll like it. Open fields, but higher than the north bank, you’ll have the advantage.” A nervous smile overtook his features and he realized his hands were shaking. “You’ll see it all at first light, I’ll show you everything. I believe we can give them a time of it, General Ricketts. We’ll give them a time.…”
    “I have no guns,” Ricketts said with a first, faint hint of emotion. “I was ordered to leave my artillery at Petersburg. I’m a damned artilleryman, and I don’t have a single battery.” He shook his head, becoming human at last. “Don’t have one ambulance, either. Or my field surgeries. I have to believe we were meant to fill up the Washington forts. Before things came undone.” He glanced down at the planks and looked up again. “What kind of artillery do you have?”
    “One battery, six three-inch rifles. And one good howitzer.”
    Under Ricketts’ whiskers, his mouth formed an acid smile. “Early will hardly be able to claim you had an unfair advantage. Cavalry?”
    “Five squadrons of the Eighth Illinois. They’re well officered. And some mounted infantry.”
    “So … if my entire division closes … we’d have seventy-five hundred men, at most, a third of them green as shamrocks, with no artillery to speak of and not enough cavalry to picket a field latrine.”
    “I do have ammunition stacked. And a train waiting back of the hill to take off the wounded. And we have the river to our front, it’s really a splendid position.”
    “And your position is how many miles long?”
    “Three. Approximately. A