Nathan did not add that he'd been riding a strong fast horse, had carried a bowie knife in his boot, a short sword in his cane, and a Colt revolver in a holster strapped to his chest. He was an expert with all and had considered himself quite safe.

Nathan recounted his meeting with the sodden sentry. “The poor lad had no reason being there. He was virtually beneath the guns of Fort Slocum, which were far more intimidating than he was. At least the poor boy was well uniformed and well armed. Indeed, just about all the soldiers I saw today looked like they actually belong in an army.”

“For that we must thank McClellan,” Scott said. “My successor has done an outstanding job in organizing, arming, and training an army. He has turned the mob that failed at Bull Run into a massive and fearsome-looking war machine. My only concern is that he will never use it.”

Prior to the war, Nathan had met George Brinton McClellan on several occasions. The two men were the same age, although the precocious McClellan had been two years ahead of Nathan at the Academy. Over the years, their paths had crossed several times. McClellan had even resigned his commission the same year Nathan had. After that, McClellan had gone into the railroad business as vice president of the Illinois Central Railroad and, later, president of the Ohio & Mississippi.

“I am confident he will smite the enemy hip and thigh,” Nathan said.

Scott sighed. “Sad to say, I am not as confident as you are. Now, let's get to the reason I asked you to come. Tell me, have you considered getting your commission back? With your background, you could easily be a colonel tomorrow, perhaps even a general by next week. There is a dire shortage of people with military experience.”

Nathan shook his head. “I'm not ready for that. I've had good men die needlessly under my command and it nearly destroyed me. I know some officers are able to handle that, but the way those men died was just too much.”