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sent a man to hurry him on.”
    â€œTwo days will do well enough.”
    â€œIf we have three.”
    â€œHooker will not take the aggressive,” Lee said. “We’ll have the time. Hooker will be cautious.”
    Longstreet almost raised Stuart’s absence again, but saw it was pointless. The old man would hear nothing against his beloved fellow Virginian. Stuart was almost a son to him. And perhaps he was right, Stuart might ride into camp that afternoon.
    â€œThen we should have time to pick our ground,” Longstreet said. “To choose good ground and make Hooker attack us. Outflank him, move between him and Washington. Force his hand.”
    Lee did not answer immediately, but said at last, “When the army is gathered in, we’ll take the aggressive. We should find those people still dispersed in Maryland. Should we meet any closer to hand, we’ll defeat them piecemeal. Otherwise, I intend to turn toward Harrisburg again, to make Hooker follow, to give him the chance to worry himself into errors.”
    â€œAnd we’ll force him to attack on ground we choose,” Longstreet repeated. He wanted to hear the old man say it aloud. “A strategic offensive that ends in a tactical defense.”
    Again, Lee weighed his words before responding. Then he spoke as if he had not heard a word Longstreet had offered. “I will not bring on an engagement until this army is concentrated, that much is certain. I will have every man understand that.” He nodded in agreement with himself. “But once we have balled our fist, I intend to wield it.”
    The old man’s mood lightened again, but Longstreet could not shake his growing alarm. The old man wanted a fight. Say what he might, he loved it. But they had to fight wisely now, so far from home. The army could not afford another bloodletting like Chancellorsville. Not even one called a victory.
    Porter Alexander had come to him that morning not to tell stories of big yellow dogs and amusing little girls, but to express his concern about their stocks of high-explosive shell. “There’s enough for one real battle and to cover a march,” Alexander had told him. “But we won’t have a round to spare.”
    â€œPerhaps you and I are too prone to worry, Pete,” the old man said, reading his mind again. The use of his nickname startled Longstreet. Lee was a formal man on all occasions.
    â€œHere we are,” Lee continued, “worrying ourselves over grand strategy, and you know the last thing I heard from Powell Hill?” He shook his head slowly, as if at a child’s antics. “General Heth asked if he could go fetch some shoes. It seems the men have more immediate concerns than a pair of somber generals do.”
    â€œWell, I’d rather have a thousand new pairs of shoes than a thousand new rifles myself,” Longstreet said, “and that’s the Georgia truth. If Hotspur Harry can bring in a load of shoes, boots, or ladies’ slippers, I’ll tip my hat to him.”
    Skirmishing raindrops reached them. They rose together and hastened under the fly before Lee’s tent.
    â€œI told General Hill I had no objection, to act at his discretion,” Lee went on. “As long as no one brings on an engagement, he understands that.”
    â€œDid Hill happen to say where his men intend to go hunting for this treasure?” Longstreet asked. “I have half a mind to force-march Hood over the mountains and beat them to it.”
    The volleys of rain grew heavier, thumping the canvas, trying to break through.
    â€œAccording to General Heth, the shoes are in that crossroads village east of Cashtown.” Lee’s expression tightened in consternation. “I know the name full well, but it eludes me.”
    â€œGettysburg,” Longstreet said.
    *   *   *
    â€œIch habe das verdammte Regen zum kotzen satt,” Bettelman cried in a tone of