As the spring of 1863 brought green to the countryside and fish up the river, the legions of civil strife faced each other cheerfully across the Rappahannock. After the slaughter of Fredericksburg, the embattled brothers held off death for the time. No cannon roared. No picket fired. Instead, fishing parties on either bank shouted caustic jokes, and rival bands sent plaintive melodies back and forth. During favorable winds, the doughboys traded souvenirs by means of toy sailboats improvised from scrap lumber and torn bits of old shirts. The tides of the Rappahannock ran free of blood; each soft day seemed to dawn beyond the reality of war. Then Joe Hooker, the new Union commander, took his army upstream and across to defeat at Chancellorsville, after which, again on their sides of the dividing river, the foeman tensely awaited a further move. Lee made that one, and the result was Gettysburg.