Leon Uris Read Online Free PDF Page A

SUMTER
    Winfield Scott’s master plan for conducting the war was adopted, giving Lincoln time to shake out his senior officers and create a great army.
    Keels of ships of every class were laid and launched, from ocean-ranging men-of-war to paddle-wheel gunboats reporting for duty on the Mississippi River.
    There was not one spectacular victory, but the blockade resulted in a daily, relentless wearing down of the enemy. The South required vast supplies from the outside and blockade runners poured out of the European ports to get in on the bonanza of the black market.
    Every so often the Union fleet caught or sank a blockade runner, but most of them got through.
    There was enough money involved for profiteers to keep a steady line moving across the ocean. Yet, for every vessel thatfailed and for every cargo lost, the noose on the Confederacy grew slightly tighter.
    Odds heavily favored the North with thrice the population, thousands more miles of railroad, and twenty-fold the industrial might. The Union had farmlands, the raw materials, and a highly skilled labor force.
    Given time, the Confederate States would run out of everything from soap to gunpowder. Given more time, the Confederate States would be pulling up their rails to melt them down for metal and ammunition. There were hundreds of thousands of angry and desperate slaves to be held in check, and they were desperately needed, for the export of cotton and tobacco crops had to pay for everything.
    The will of the South was a story of sacrifice on the home front and courage on the battle front that told the Union it was in for a long and bloody haul.
    Although the Confederacy might never defeat the Union, it could drain the will of the Union and bleed the war to a standstill in order to win at a bargaining table.
    Would Union resolve cave in, in the face of years of wanton slaughter? The Union cause had to be mighty enough to stand behind their battle cry of “unconditional surrender.” A leader of boundless greatness was able to instill a commandment into the soul of the nation that slavery was against God’s will.
    And so, a tragedy for the ages was on.
    Winfield Scott retired and a war that was supposed to be over in a blink entered its third year. Early in 1863, Ben Boone was assigned to the mighty frigate USS Tuscarora, a stalwart of the mid-Atlantic squadron.
    He was to take command of a newly formed company, made up of 102 marines pulled together from a variety of ships and posts.
    The USS Tuscarora was a sight to behold at its berth in Baltimore, double decked with cannons and spoiling for a fight. K Company was ready and waiting as Lieutenant Boone came up the gangplank and was piped aboard. First to greet him was Sergeant Paddy O’Hara.
    Ben renewed his friendship with old hands and acquainted himself with the new men. He was assigned an area on the aft deck and, with his sergeants, crafted vigorous exercises, drills, and inspections to keep his men alert and ready for action.
    K Company was soon thinking as a unit, with each man and each squad catching the others’ rhythms. By the time the bark-rigged beauty set her sails and cruised serenely down the Chesapeake, Ben had a handle on what to expect from his people.
    On the ocean beyond sight of land, the Tuscarora made rendezvous with two dozen warships, and rumors leaped from ship to ship. It was apparent that something huge was in the offing.
    The armada sailed and steamed west, then made a huge turn and circled south, where it was joined by a half-dozen more ships from the mid-Atlantic squadron.
    On the dawning of the twelfth day, land was sighted.
    Lieutenant Boone left the officers’ wardroom and hastened to find Sergeant O’Hara.
    “Sergeant!”
    “Sir!”
    “Assemble K Company in our deck area with full combat gear.”
    “Aye, aye, sir.”
    “It’s a big one.”
    K Company was topside in minutes and a roll call was taken.
    “All present or accounted for, sir.”
    With his sergeants trailing