Stars and Stripes Triumphant

“We’ve pushed units up these streets toward Whitehall,” an aide said, pointing out the positions on his map. “Our men will be taking defensive positions in the buildings on both sides. There’ll be no more surprise attacks by cavalry from that direction.”

Sherman nodded approval, touched the map. “These troops in Parliament Square must be neutralized. Then the Gatlings can take out these defensive positions in the buildings there.”

“We’re taking fire from Westminster Abbey,” an officer reported.

“Return it,” Sherman said coldly. “If that is their choice, I say that our men’s lives come before an ancient monument. I want all the defensive positions reduced before we advance to the Mall. It will be a two-pronged attack, there and down this road. Is it really called Birdcage Walk?”

“It is, sir.”

“All right. The staff will join the column there — let the attacking units know. Report to me when you are ready.”

The sound of ca

A man’s voice sounded from the door behind her, silencing the shrill voices.

“Come now, Your Majesty. The carriages are here.”

The Duke of Cambridge had an urgency in his voice. Victoria’s first cousin, he was familiar enough to take her by the arm. “The children have gone ahead. We must go after them.”

The children! Mention of them cleared her head and filled her with a certain urgency. She turned from the window and let the Duke lead her from the room. He went on ahead, leaving her ladies to see to her.

He had a lot to do and not much time to do it in. When his servant had shaken him awake that morning, his head was still fogged with fatigue and he could make little of what was happening at first. Warships? The Thames? When he had hurried to his office, Brigadier Somerville made it all too clear.

“The attacks in the Midlands — even capturing Plymouth — that was all a ruse. And it succeeded. They are striking up the Thames, and London is their target.”

“Tilbury. The fort there will stop them.”

“I sincerely hope so, but we ca

“Leave? Go where?”

The Duke was being even thicker than usual this morning; Somerville fought to keep the anger from his voice. “Windsor Castle for now. The Prime Minister and his cabinet can join her there. Immediate danger will be averted and further plans can be made once she is safe. She will listen to you. You must convince her that this is the proper course of action. The forces attacking us are overwhelming. If she is seized in Buckingham Palace, why then, this war is over before it has even properly begun.”

“Yes, of course.” The Duke rubbed his jaw, his fingers scraping over the unshaven bristles. “But the defense of the city?”

“Everything has been done that can be done here. Only the Queen’s safety remains in doubt.”

“Yes,” the Duke said, climbing slowly to his feet. “Call my carriage. I will take the matter in hand.”

The hours had passed like minutes in Buckingham Palace. The Duke had had the household cavalry turned out, mounted and ready. The stables behind the palace were stirred to life. Now it was time to leave. The sound of gunfire was louder, closer. Yes, now, the last carriage door slammed shut. With a crack of whips and clatter of hooves they swung out of the forecourt, through the palace gateway, and into Buckingham Gate. Riding west toward safety.

The resistance by the British forces around Parliament Square was dying down. Flesh and blood could not stand against the mechanized attack, the Gatling guns and the decimating volleys of the rapid-firing rifles of the American troops. General Sherman noted the reports as they came in; issued clipped orders. These veterans knew what to do. Within an hour the enemy had been pushed back into St. James’s Park and the final assault was ready to begin. Sherman wrote a last order and passed it to the waiting rider.

“For Colonel Foster at Admiralty Arch. He is to advance when he sees us move out.”

During the brief wait ammunition had been rushed to the Gatling carriers. Horses also pulled forward a wagon laden with barrels of liquid fuel to fill their emptying tanks. Sherman read the last of the reports and nodded.

“Sound the attack,” he said.

As the bugle notes echoed from the buildings, they were drowned out as the engines of the Gatling carriers roared into life. Clouds of blue smoke rolled across the square from their blatting exhausts as the advance began.

It was attrition and death for the defenders. Armored in the fore, spitting leaden death, the carriers rolled up to the hastily constructed barricades and slaughtered the troops that were concealed there, firing until the ineffective defending fire died away. Willing hands tore gaps in the barricades and the carriers rolled through the defensive lines. There was another cavalry charge down Birdcage Walk by the defenders as Buckingham Palace came into view; it was no more successful than the first and only a handful of survivors stumbled in retreat.

The Gatling carriers rumbled ahead of the troops, pausing only when they reached the palace. A household guard regiment there put up a heroic defense, but their thin steel cuirasses could not stop the American bullets. Through the gates the attackers surged, held up for a moment by defenders within the palace itself. But the withering Gatling fire crashed through the windows on the ground floor, sending a spray of death crawling up to the defenders firing from the floors above. With a roaring cheer the soldiers surged forward into the palace itself.

When General Sherman and his staff rode into the palace yard a few minutes later, the battle had come to a bloody end. Corpses sprawled across the cobbles. Here and there were a few wounded survivors now being tended by medical corpsmen. Two American soldiers, with slung rifles, emerged from the entrance holding between them an elegantly dressed man bearing a white cloth.

“Came walking right up to us, General, just a-waving this tablecloth,” the corporal said. “Let on how he wanted to speak with whoever is in charge.”

“Who are you?” Sherman asked coldly.

“Equerry to Her Majesty, Queen Victoria.”

“That is fine. Take me to her.”

The man drew himself up, trying to control his quaking limbs as he faced the armed enemy.

“That will not possible. She is not here. Please call off this attack and the senseless killing.”

“Where is she?”

The man stiffened, his mouth clamped shut. Sherman started to query him, changed his mind. He turned to his staff.

“We will assume for the moment that he is telling the truth. Search the palace, speak to the servants, find out where the Queen has gone. Meanwhile I will make my headquarters here.”

“Look, General, up there,” an officer called out, and pointed toward the roof of Buckingham Palace. Everyone who heard him turned to look.

An American soldier had appeared on the roof and was lowering the flag that flew there. It fluttered down the face of the building and lay crumpled on the stones. Now the Stars and Stripes was going up in its place. A great cheering broke out from the watching soldiers; even Sherman nodded and smiled.