Chapter 3 September 14, 1862 McClellan’s Plan
8:42 pm – McClellan’s Command Tent
“Sergeant!!!” roared McClellan, a decision having been made. “Take down these orders.”
Sergeant Anderson was not a stenographer, but he pulled out the pencil and paper he kept handy for just such occasions. Each morning as he readied himself for duty he checked his pencil - a rounded point, not too sharp so as to break easily, but coarse and short to last the day. He would not annoy the general by not being prepared.
“General Franklin is to complete his orders to take and hold the passes and prevent the enemy from using any means to advance toward Washington on this side of the river,” McClellan dictated, without ever making eye contact with his attentive sergeant.
He paused, waiting until he heard the distinctive scratch of the pencil against paper slow to almost a stop. Then he quickly continued: “General Fitz John Porter shall begin to march his troops toward Washington and to position himself to cover all routes north to Baltimore and to detach such troops to block all roads leading out to southern Maryland. “Anderson, send these messages by runner. Do not use the telegraph. Understood?”
“Yessir, replied the sergeant as he hurriedly left the tent.
The decision that could wait no longer had been made. He would remove that man from office and restore the country. I will be in Washington on the 16th, before the Confederates know I have changed priorities, mused McClellan. I must catch Lincoln before he can escape. I will take command. The slaves will not be freed by my actions.
9:37 pm – The White House – Washington, DC
Mary Lincoln sat on her new green and black overstuffed sofa. She was wearing a black silk dress trimmed with small black lace. It was a full mourning dress, made for her by her seamstress Elizabeth Keckly. Elizabeth was a former slave who was now best friend to the first lady of the United States.
Elizabeth had gotten to know Mary Lincoln and become accustomed to her troubled demeanor while mending her expensive gowns and dresses. Now the bright colors were relegated to the past.
Mary Todd Lincoln’s family were well to do and felt they had pulled her husband up to an ill deserved social status. His presidential actions continually caused their embarrassment. That her family had attitude was summed up by her husband, “God only has one ‘D’ but the Todds demand two.”
Now her grief over the loss of her son, Willie, who died last February, just two months after his 12th birthday, was tearing the diminutive woman apart and completed her estrangement from her family.
Grief seemed to be the Lincoln’s lot. Mary would never again wear any other color but black and her ever-darkening emotional state would increasingly become a concern to her husband.
“Honestly, Abraham, I don’t for the life of me see why you put that pompous little man back in charge of the army,” Mary Lincoln snapped. “Although my cousin Lee was no doubt quite pleased with your choice, McClellan has been nothing but trouble to you.”
“Mary, your rebellious cousin’s opinion is not my concern, although how you know that may be,” Lincoln said without ever looking up from reading his newspaper.
“Oh, I received a wonderful letter from his wife just yesterday and she thinks that your little general is more popular than you are,” Mary continued in a most wifely tone. “I don’t trust him!”
Lincoln drew the paper together, pondering his wife’s comment. If Little Mac knows about the blow that I am about to deliver to slavery, will he fight? Is he pursuing, the fight from today? “Mary, thank you,” said Lincoln, as he rose and pushed the paper aside. “I am going down to the War Department and see what is happening up there in Frederick. Please get some rest this evening.”
“Don’t leave the newspaper lying all over the sofa!” Mary spit the sharp words out of her mouth as she always did without any real appreciation of their venom or any conscious concern for the feelings of the recipient.
Abraham Lincoln, president of the United States, bent down and carefully picked up the newspaper, folded it under his arm, nodded and quietly walked to the War Department.
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