by Jeff Shaara
Upon the final surrender of Vicksburg, William T. Sherman, who commands more than thirty thousand of Grant’s troops out east of the town, is ordered by Grant to begin the push once again toward Jackson, to eliminate once and for all any threat from the forces commanded by Joseph Johnston. Johnston, who has maintained his position several miles east of the Big Black River, retreats quickly to Jackson rather than engage Sherman in the field. On July 11, Sherman reaches the capital city, and aided by additional troops from both the Thirteenth Corps (Ord) and the Ninth Corps (Parke), Sherman begins a bombardment and general envelopment of the city. Johnston, recognizing the overwhelming superiority of the enemy he faces, withdraws once more. Within a week, Sherman marches again into the state capital with minimal opposition. At first Sherman attempts to pursue Johnston, who has, from all indications, mastered the art of escape. A frustrated Sherman concedes that the blistering heat of the Mississippi summer will do more damage to his army than can be achieved by such a pursuit, and reluctantly, he calls off the chase.
Ordered by Grant to return to his base near the Big Black River, Sherman first lays waste to Jackson once more, including the railroad lines that spread for dozens of miles in all directions. He then returns his forces to their original camps along the Big Black, protecting Vicksburg from any Confederate assault from the east, which never comes.
On July 11, 1863, the Confederate prisoners of war are allowed to begin their march out of Vicksburg. Pemberton holds his hopes high that his army will reassemble itself, though with so much dissension in the ranks, and so much hostility directed toward him, Pemberton sees the value in offering his men a furlough. He grants his army thirty days for whatever personal needs they might have, predicting, as does Jefferson Davis, that those men will once again see the virtue in their sacrifice and return to fight another day. To Pemberton’s enormous dismay, an overwhelming majority of the men who surrender at Vicksburg simply disappear from the rolls of the army.
The senior officers under Pemberton’s command face more formal rules regarding their paroles. Those men are eventually exchanged against the Federal officers who have been captured by Robert E. Lee two months prior, at Chancellorsville, Virginia. To further aid in bringing the disgruntled troops back into the fold, and avoid violating the terms of the surrender, Pemberton’s staff claims that the actual roster of prisoners becomes lost. Thus no official record can be found that would disqualify any man from returning to service. How many of those men actually return is a source of considerable speculation.
As the siege of Vicksburg enters its final days, the events there are overshadowed significantly by events taking place in Pennsylvania. The astonishing loss of life during the Battle of Gettysburg captures the attention of most newspapers and the citizenry in both North and South. But one comparison tells at least part of the story. In the aftermath of Gettysburg, a total of sixty-three Union soldiers are awarded the Medal of Honor. At Vicksburg, ninety-eight such medals are awarded. Nonetheless, little public attention is paid when the final phase of the Vicksburg campaign concludes July 9, with the capture of Port Hudson, south of Vicksburg, the last remaining Confederate garrison on the Mississippi River. For the remainder of the war, the Confederacy is without any control over the most vital artery for supply and transport in North America.
In sheer numbers of men and equipment, the loss of the garrison at Vicksburg is unmatched by any other campaign of the war. While casualty counts pale in comparison to those of Shiloh, Antietam, or Gettysburg, Vicksburg’s loss is a monumental blow to the Confederacy, for reasons that go beyond loss of life. The numbers tell the story. Ulysses Grant succeeds in capturing an entire army, totaling some 29,500 officers and men, in addition to the seven thousand casualties inflicted on Pemberton’s army during Grant’s overland campaign. In total, Pemberton’s army surrenders more than two hundred fifty artillery pieces, more than twenty-five tons of black powder, some fifty thousand muskets, and six hundred thousand rounds of ammunition. In addition, two ironworks inside of Vicksburg itself are lost, which damages even further the Confederacy’s ability to replace their lost ordnance.
Though Grant’s star rises considerably, it is not until spring of 1864 that Grant will be rewarded with the ultimate prize, command of the entire Federal army. In the meantime, he bases his headquarters again at Memphis. As part of his ongoing operations to strangle Confederate efforts west of the Appalachian Mountains, Grant expends enormous energy reopening the key rail link eastward, the Memphis & Charleston Railroad. Prior to Grant’s Tennessee campaign in 1862, the rail line had been a primary east–west artery for the Confederacy. Now it will become just as useful for Grant’s Federal army, which will embark on the renewed effort to crush Confederate forces in eastern Tennessee, a campaign that will eventually push into the Confederate strongholds near Chattanooga. That campaign will continue a drive to devastate Confederate fortunes even further, eventually slicing completely through to Atlanta, across Georgia, and into the Carolinas.
The 1986 edition of the United States Army’s Field Manual on Operations describes Grant’s campaign thus: “His operations south of Vicksburg fought in the spring of 1863 has been called the most brilliant campaign ever fought on American soil. It exemplifies the qualities of a well-conceived, violently executed offensive plan. The same speed, surprise, maneuver and decisive action will be required in the campaigns of the future.”
THOSE WHO WORE GRAY
LIEUTENANT GENERAL JOHN C. PEMBERTON
With his army abruptly scattered, Pemberton is a general without a command. Officially a Federal prisoner, he is immediately exchanged and released by Grant, and by late July 1863, two weeks after his army marches out of Vicksburg, he is reunited with his wife and children at Demopolis, Alabama, where he awaits instructions from Jefferson Davis. But Joseph Johnston files a report that quickly becomes public, laying complete blame for the loss of Vicksburg on Pemberton’s actions, including his blatant disobedience of Johnston’s orders. Though furious at Johnston’s lack of discretion, Davis is overwhelmed by the outpouring of Southern sentiment against Pemberton and hopes to rescue his friend’s reputation by convening a court of inquiry. But Davis and the Confederate War Department must deal with the realities of a war that has turned against them, and the inquiry is never scheduled.
In October 1863, Pemberton is summoned to Richmond and is considered by Davis for a new command in Tennessee, under Braxton Bragg, again subordinate to Johnston. But sentiment in the army is strongly against him, and the animosity between Johnston and Pemberton eliminate any chance that the command will ever be realized.
Returning to Virginia, Pemberton awaits some possibility that he will receive another command, offering his services to Davis “in any capacity in which you think I may be useful.” Though Davis still regards Pemberton as a close friend, even Davis understands that few in the army would welcome Pemberton as a superior. Accepting his fate, Pemberton resigns his commission as lieutenant general in April 1864, and hopes to make Davis’s decision easier by reducing himself to a possible command in his original post, that of a colonel of artillery. Davis accepts the request, and Pemberton assumes command of the Richmond Defense Battalion, and thus serves in support of Robert E. Lee in the campaigns of 1864, which eventually results in Grant’s siege of Petersburg.
In early 1865, as the collapse of the Confederacy becomes increasingly inevitable, Pemberton is assigned to a vague post as inspector of ordnance, but by April 1865, he serves once again under Joe Johnston in North Carolina, only as a commander of artillery. With Lee having surrendered at Appomattox, and Johnston doing the same in North Carolina, Pemberton escapes capture and flees to Newton, North Carolina, where he reunites with his family.
Pemberton continues his feud with Joseph Johnston, both men penning memoirs that soundly condemn the actions of the other, including widely differing accounts of the campaign itself, with broad accusations leveled by each man for the other’s failures. But Johnston’s account, pu
blished in 1874, is widely read and thus mostly accepted as fact. Pemberton’s memoir takes a far stranger journey. The manuscript is never published in his lifetime, and for all intents and purposes is lost to history. However, in 1995, the manuscript surfaces at an Ohio flea market, mingled with an original manuscript of works by another Confederate general, Marcus Wright. The work is purchased by Civil War enthusiast Alan Hoeweler, who recognizes its astonishing historical value, and the work is finally put into print in 1999.
One recurring condemnation of Pemberton revolves around his presumed choice of July 4 as the surrender date, which many take as a clear indication of his treachery, as though Vicksburg is a “gift” paid to the nation where his true loyalties always lay. Pemberton’s explanation is a weak justification of the date, claiming that he had hoped to gain far more lenient terms from Ulysses Grant by surrendering on Independence Day. Though there is no evidence whatsoever to suggest Pemberton was not thoroughly loyal to the Confederate cause, he had every opportunity to accept Grant’s terms on July 3 and execute the surrender on that day, thus deflecting, at least in part, the obvious controversy. Since the machinery of the surrender was already rolling forward, his explanation makes little sense. Regardless of the exact date when Pemberton’s army lays down its arms, Grant’s terms had remained virtually the same.
However, coincidence or not, the city of Vicksburg reacts strongly to the date of the capitulation. Independence Day is not officially celebrated again in the city until 1945.
After the war, Pemberton settles near Warrenton, Virginia, attempting to provide for his family as a gentleman farmer. But life on the land is no better for him than was life as a commander, and embittered by one more failure, he returns to his native Pennsylvania and lives an inconspicuous existence until his death in 1881. His death barely inspires mention in the newspapers across the South. His greatest postwar recognition comes from the efforts of historians, who in 1917 succeed in a campaign to erect a statue of Pemberton at the Vicksburg National Military Park.
The weathered bronze statue of Pemberton is virtually all that reminds us of the Pennsylvanian in gray who followed his heart and offered his sword in defense of the woman he loved.
—HISTORIAN TERRENCE WINSCHEL
LUCY SPENCE
Though her neighbors, particularly Horace Atkins and John Cordray, offer to assist her in rebuilding her home, Lucy has no desire to remain in Vicksburg. She embarks on a search for her preacher father, which proves fruitless, and she never learns of his fate. Her travels take her to Mobile, where in August 1864 she witnesses the great naval battle there, and in March 1865 she is a resident of the city when the Federal campaign erupts that will eventually conquer it. As the hospitals again require capable nurses, she offers her services and finds herself once more engulfed in the sickening horrors of a wartime hospital, this time caring for men from both armies. But she cannot endure life as a nurse, and vows never to witness combat again.
In Mobile, she marries George Lowery, a railroad manager, and in 1867 gives birth to a boy she names Victor. It is a subtle nod to her home, and a tribute to the sacrifice she has witnessed and suffered there. But her husband does not accept the confines of married life, and once again Lucy finds herself fending for herself, this time with a small child in tow. She seeks work as a private caretaker and serves, among many others, Confederate veterans who still suffer from their wounds. In 1884, her son applies to the Virginia Military Institute, a decision Lucy cannot take lightly. But Victor is a product of his mother’s stubborn independence, and she reluctantly consents, under the condition that he never volunteer for service in combat.
Lucy remains in Mobile caring for the ill and injured until her death in 1914, at age sixty-nine. She does not live to see her son, now a captain in the United States Army, as he embarks for France with the American Expeditionary Force. Victor Lowery is killed in action in World War I on the Western Front, at age fifty.
MAJOR GENERAL JOHN BOWEN
Arguably John Pemberton’s most capable field commander during the Vicksburg campaign, Bowen is also in command of more action out beyond the defenses of the city against Grant’s foray through Mississippi. Bowen succumbs not only to the despair that engulfs his army with their surrender, but also the disease that permeates the entire force. The weakness Grant observes in his former neighbor manifests in a severe case of dysentery. Grant learns of Bowen’s illness and offers the services of Federal doctors, a gesture that comes too late. With his wife at his side, Bowen dies on July 13, 1863, nine days after the surrender. He is buried first at Raymond, then moved to the Cedar Hill Cemetery in Vicksburg.
MAJOR SAMUEL LOCKETT
Lockett is easily considered the engineer most responsible for the design and construction of the earthworks that so effectively prevent Grant’s army from seizing Vicksburg by brute force. After his exchange and parole, Lockett is promoted to colonel and serves as the chief engineer for the Confederate Army of Tennessee, under Braxton Bragg. As the war ends, Lockett takes his engineering skills into the classroom, and eventually becomes a professor at the University of Tennessee. His reputation brings him a three-year invitation to serve as a consulting engineer for the Egyptian army, which he accepts, traveling to Egypt in 1875.
He returns home to serve as one of the principal assistants for the construction of the pedestal that supports the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor. Always in demand, he embarks on engineering duties for the governments of Chile and Colombia. He dies in Bogotá in 1891, at age fifty-four.
MAJOR GENERAL WILLIAM W. LORING
Supported by his superior, Joseph Johnston, Loring manages to avoid condemnation for what can only be described as his abandonment of Pemberton’s army after the Battle of Champion Hill. Loring joins his forces to that of Johnston, and eventually serves under John Bell Hood in the ill-fated battles for Atlanta. He accompanies Hood into Tennessee and participates in Hood’s disastrous swan song in the battles of Franklin and Nashville. But Loring maintains a solid reputation in the field and returns to action under Johnston in the final conflicts of the war, against Sherman in North Carolina.
Like Samuel Lockett, he is rewarded for his reputation by the government of Egypt, where he serves as brigadier general, his reputation for battlefield command growing far beyond what he had earned in the Confederacy. In 1879, after considerable success in the Abyssinian Campaign, he is awarded the title of Pasha by the khedive of Egypt. He returns home to life as a dignified old soldier, and dies in 1886 in New York City, at age sixty-seven.
JOHN CORDRAY
With the surrender of Vicksburg, Cordray and his family return home to rebuild. He reopens his mercantile business, where he earns a modest living, providing for both of his children, who reach adulthood. But the strains of cave life prove far more damaging to his wife. Isabel dies in September 1863 from pneumonia, at age twenty-six. Cordray remains in Vicksburg, and like so many, he maintains a vigorous animosity toward the Union. The very definition of an unreconstructed Confederate, he dies in 1897, at age sixty-four.
THOSE WHO WORE BLUE
MAJOR GENERAL JOHN MCCLERNAND
Unyielding in his criticism of Ulysses Grant, in early 1864, McClernand’s political contacts bring him another command in the field, this time far from Grant. McClernand leads his corps during the Red River Campaign, where he earns no particular distinction, but his ambitions take a severe blow by the elevation of Ulysses Grant to overall command of the army. Ill health and his unfortunate talent for self-promotion result in his resignation from the army in late 1864.
Though McClernand maintains ambitions for command, he is a politician first. In 1873, after serving a four-year stint as a judge, he returns to politics and is active there until the end of his life. He dies in Springfield, Illinois, in 1900, at age eighty-eight.
ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF WAR CHARLES DANA
Despite the expectations of his superiors that his “observance” of Ulysses Grant will prove detrimental to Grant
’s career, Dana is surprised and gratified to learn otherwise. What some (including Grant himself) suspect as being a spy mission becomes instead a pipeline of positive and laudatory reports concerning Grant’s behavior against the enemy, and with his own subordinates, which helps considerably to secure Grant’s command.
After the war, Dana pursues his first love, journalism, and founds and operates what becomes one of New York City’s most influential newspapers, the New York Sun. He pens a biography of Grant in 1868, and his own memoir, published posthumously. He edits his beloved Sun until his death in 1897, at age seventy-eight.
SYLVANUS CADWALLADER
The reporter is the man most singularly responsible for perpetrating Grant’s reputation for consistent drunkenness. Cadwallader accompanies Grant’s staff through the end of the war, and after Grant’s death in 1885, and the publication of Grant’s own memoirs, Cadwallader, who believes Grant has downplayed the role of his friend John Rawlins, begins work on his own memoir. He labors for several years, completes the work in 1896, when he is seventy years old, and he dies soon after. The work is not published until 1955, and of course, the claims of Grant’s drunkenness are explosive, with no one alive who can dispute them.
In 1864, with the threat of the draft hanging over Cadwallader’s head, he takes advantage of the prevailing privilege allowed men of means and purchases a substitute, an African American, to take his place in the army. Revealing this to Grant, Grant responds, “Perhaps the army profited by the exchange.”
In the mid-1870s, Cadwallader serves as assistant secretary of state for Wisconsin, and a decade later moves to Springfield, Missouri. Considered a civilian expert, he is consulted frequently by historians throughout the late nineteenth century, and provides valuable insight into the inner workings of Grant’s command.
Opinions are considerably divided about the veracity of Cadwallader’s anecdotal stories of Grant’s bingeing. Southern historians, such as Shelby Foote, tend to accept the reporter’s version with more gravity than others, such as Bruce Catton, who describes the memoir as “one more in the dreary Grant-was-drunk garland of myths.” Yet it is the writings of the men who were there at the time that seem to deflate the substance of Cadwallader’s claims. Chief among those is Rawlins himself, as well as Charles Dana, Horace Porter, and William T. Sherman.
