The morning of May 1, 1863, broke over the tangled thickets of Virginia’s Wilderness with the kind of deceptive peace that war often wraps itself in. The sun rose, the birds sang, and thousands of men stirred in the dew-drenched underbrush, tightening their belts, adjusting gear, preparing for something that none of them could yet name. At a brick inn called Chancellorsville—really more of a crossroads mansion than a village—Major General Joseph Hooker of the Union Army sat poised on the edge of greatness. At least, that was what he believed.