The Fateful Lightning by Jeff Shaara Page A

And our cause is not helped by this weather. I regret that a good many of my men are performing their duty even while carrying illness.”
    Hardee moved to a chair, the cavalry officers making way. He sat slowly, stretching a stiff back. He seemed to ignore Cobb now, kept his focus on Wheeler. “I brought two hundred men from Charleston. Two hundred! Not even an adequate headquarters guard. The enemy is marching with four corps, so I’ve heard. You confirm that?”
    Seeley had already heard Wheeler’s estimates of the numbers, stood to one side, saw Wheeler hesitate, as though uneasy with the question. Seeley’s eyes were drawn to Hardee, the man’s calm, the firm tone in his voice, what Seeley had always thought a
commander
should look like. Hardee waited for Wheeler’s response, and Wheeler glanced downward, then straightened, spoke slowly. “It appears that is accurate, sir. I have identified the Fourteenth, Fifteenth, Seventeenth, and Twentieth corps. My scouts in Atlanta suggest Sherman left the city with near sixty thousand men.”
    Hardee stared down, nodded slowly. “Others suggest fewer. No one seems to know how many Federals moved north into Tennessee. Sherman would not abandon Nashville to a mere skirmishing force.General Thomas is up that way, that much we know. The Federals are sending considerable reinforcements toward Nashville from several directions.” He paused. “General Sherman’s campaign has been sanctioned completely by General Grant, and the Federal War Department is responding by shifting troops to allow for General Sherman’s absence. Any bickering that has taken place in Washington has apparently been silenced.”
    Wheeler glanced around the room, lowered his voice, as though being discreet. “Forgive me, sir, but how do you know these things?”
    Hardee looked up at Wheeler with a hint of a smile. “One advantage of having been commandant of cadets, General. There are a good many West Point officers on both sides of this war, and even the ones in blue can be persuaded to reveal what they know. Occasionally.”
    Seeley marveled at that, thought, Spies? He has spies in the Yankee army?
    Wheeler seemed to understand far more clearly than his young captain, responded to Hardee’s revelation with a slow nod of his head. Hardee leaned back in the chair, rubbed a hand through his beard, said, “With all respect to you, General Cobb, our current governor, Mr. Brown, tells me that the state of Georgia will soon furnish us as much militia as we can arm. I suggested that twenty thousand would be helpful. He suggested they might produce several hundred.”
    Wheeler glanced at Cobb, who had withdrawn toward a corner, seemingly out of place. Wheeler shook his head, said, “With all respect to General Cobb, and to Governor Brown, I do not believe local militia, boys and old men, will be of much value.”
    Cobb sputtered the obligatory protest, but Hardee silenced him with his hand, said with a hard frown, “Would you prefer they remain on their farms? I respect General Cobb’s zeal, if not his strength of manpower. He knows these men are fighting for their own homes.”
    “Certainly, sir. As they fought for every other city that now smells of blue.”
    Seeley waited for some explosion from Hardee, but the man kept his composure, seemed to accept Wheeler’s grim assessment, no matter the insult to any of Georgia’s political leaders. Hardee stood slowly, moved past Seeley, a hint of stale perfume blending with thewet wool of the man’s uniform. Seeley followed him, watched as he picked up a decanter from a small round table. Hardee looked at Seeley now, as though for the first time, said, “This is brandy?”
    Seeley stiffened. “Not certain, sir.”
    “We’ll see. Care for some?”
    Seeley shook his head. “No, sir. Thank you, though.”
    Hardee sniffed the contents of the bottle, poured a small amount into a fragile glass, sniffed again. He sipped the brown liquid, his face curling,