With thinly veiled contempt, Bobby brushed the general off and left the room.Stuart quickly intercepted the seething officer and started to smooth things over. The same age as the general, Stuart was a smooth operator, a veteran of political snake pits all over the East Coast. Quickly steering the general into a quiet corner, Stuart told Manlius that Bobby had asked for closer coordination with the military but that he didn't have the time to devote to meetings and staff briefings. Stuart suggested that a staff officer be nominated as Bobby's personal liaison.Stuart leaned closer to the general, as if taking him into his confidence. "Mr. Tyler realizes that this issue may have to be solved militarily. He just doesn't want to tip his hand too soon." But he's sent the last three liaison officers back without even meeting them!" General, please understand that Mr. Tyler's staff is a tight team. Not unlike your own staff, I might say." Stuart smiled and nodded knowingly. "Let me help. “Don’t fire on that rider,” he said. “He’s carrying a flag of truce.”“Yessir,” the captain said.“We never fire on single riders,” a soldier told Ab. “Waste of powder.”The captain did use his spyglass, and later he passed it around among the lieutenants. The soldiers, much less Ab, never got a chance to look.Later, the soldiers passed around a rumor that the Confederates were surrendering. Even later, a lieutenant with the spyglass said, “I can see the flag over the capitol.” he captain reached for the spyglass, and he handed it to him. Just before dinner, a column of prisoners started marching past. Neither they nor the escorting Union infantry looked like they were in a hurry.“Don’t worry, Johnny,” an officer called out. “The United States feeds its prisoners.”“We’re closer to Florida than Meade is,” Captain Jackson said to him the next morning while he was watching another contingent of prisoners go past, “and one hell of a lot closer than we are to Texas. Still, the War Department.
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