“Forces in our front constantly increasing,” the army leaders informed Washington, after a council of war. “No doubt of offensive intention. We believe, however, that no forward movement will be made until completion of landing operations. The total destruction of all roads in our front will then delay enemy for not more than two days. Think it safe to delay dismantling works till expiration of that time.” “Thank God!” said one of the men in Washington. He was thanking God for two days of grace--after fifty years of unused time. Two short days had become suddenly precious. In that time there could be added to the stock of arms 6,000 rifles before the Springfield works should have to be abandoned and the country forced to depend on the output of the Rock Island arsenal in Illinois, whose utmost capacity was only two hundred and fifty rifles in each eight-hour day.[75] _Militia That Had Come in Without Rifles_ Already, without a battle, the army had made requisition for 2,500 new rifles. The militia had come in with many rifles corroded from the powerful fumes and acid deposits released by smokeless powder. The rifling of many was ruined by rust, due to lack of cleaning after use. In more than one militia company there were men who had come in without rifles.[76] Beholding this wastage that had occurred in peace, the authorities were inclined to believe the dictum of some of the military men who insisted that for every infantryman in the field there must be a rifle in reserve. Certainly it was evident enough that when fighting should once begin, the waste of small arms would be enormous.[77] Two days more! The word went secretly to Hartford and Ansonia, to Bridgeport, to New Haven, to all the crowded world of Connecticut and southern Massachusetts where machines were panting night and day, buildings trembling with their steam fever, men toiling without sleep, to take advantage of the days of grace. It was not only the brass cases for the fixed ammunition, the fuses for shells, the cartridges for rifles and pistols, the bayonets and entrenching tools for which the army depended on New England. A hundred places of peaceful manufacture were working as desperately as were the manufacturers of quick-firing guns, to provide the food that war devours with such monstrous rapacity when it begins to feed. There were shops that turned out chains, and shops that turned out cooking utensils. There were workmen who never had done anything more warlike than to make bootlaces. There were manufacturers of whips and hats, and wheelwrights and makers of thread. Up and down all the river valleys, and in all the crowded towns they were working to give the army what it needed before the enemy should reach out and make the land his own.