Nevertheless, the rage of the British was incandescent and needed an immediate focus. Disraeli assured the House that the Americans had shot their bolt in these raids and that the Royal Navy guaranteed it. He then announced to the House, with every ounce of his legendary eloquence, that the ironclads already in commission would be sent across the Atlantic to join HMS Warrior and Defiance to ensure the capture of Fortress Monroe, the destruction of the American fleet at Norfolk, the capture of the same base for the use of the Royal Navy, and the complete control of the Chesapeake Bay (Appendix D). He coined the term “the Iron Fleet,” to describe the ironclad flotilla, which caught the public imagination, and ended with a rhetorical pun that “We know trust in naval hope as we have already in our military hope,” playing off name of the new commander of the Royal Navy’s forces in North America—Adm. Sir James Hope and Gen. James Hope Grant, commanding the British ground forces in Canada. Admiral Hope sailed with the ironclads to replace Milne and with the direct instructions of the Cabinet to bring the American navy to battle and destroy it. James Hope had been the obvious choice for Milne’s successor. He was known as fighting admiral and had commanded HMS Majestic in the Crimean War and as commander of the East Indies and China Station had smashed through the Taku forts in the Second Opium War in 1859 and later faced down a Russian attempt to seize the island of Tshushima in 1861. He was able, experienced, and aggressive.
Disraeli also played to assuage public fears by stating that ground reinforcements from the British Isles to Canada would not be resumed until Ireland had been settled. His ulterior motive was to hold them for the inevitable clash with the Russians. He also calculated that the Royal Navy’s wooden warships could more than deal with the Russian navy.
Through all of this and above all he had warned again and again of the Russian threat. Russian messianic expansionism was the true threat to the British Empire. To destroy Turkey and surge down the Levant to overrun the new Suez Canal under construction would at one stroke sever the promise of efficient communication with the richest jewels of the empire in India and beyond. Then the Russians would march down from Central Asia through Afghanistan to batter on the gates of India itself. In his mind’s ear he could hear the bells ringing from one end of Russia to another and wondered by what hellish miscalculations had The British Empire embarked on a two-front war at opposite ends of the planet.
THE PETERSEN BOARDING HOUSE, WASHINGTON, DC, 11:15 A.M., SUNDAY, APRIL 10, 1864
They had all arrived by separate ways to the boarding house used mostly by actors and soldiers. They came in the back way. On the street a man paused, sure that he had recognized one of the men, but shrugged sure that it could not be Sanders. They had served together at the consulate in London more than ten years ago. The man shook his head and walked on, thinking that time had dulled his memory. Sanders and the others found his way to the first floor room just inside the front door.14
Anyone passing by would find the door locked. Someone loitered in the hallway outside to make sure no one came by and tried to listen in. Nevertheless, the occupants of the room all spoke in whispers as they huddled around a small table. Inside, besides George Sanders, were Richard McCullough, John Wilkes Booth, and one of Mosby’s Rangers named Walter Weems Bowie, and Thomas Harney, from the Confederate War Department Torpedo Bureau known as a destructionist, an expert in explosive devices.
Bowie had until recently been providing the regular connection between the espionage organization in Washington and Lee’s army. His summary of Grant’s preparation and intended tactics for his spring offensive were so accurate that Lee’s use of them played a large part in frustrating the Army of the Potomac when it finally advanced. As Mosby assumed more and more of the responsibility of maintaining that intelligence connection, Bowie transferred to Mosby’s command, which then escorted Harney with his explosive devices through the lines to a safe house in Washington.15
Sanders was in charge. The original plan had been to blow up the White House with Lincoln, and hopefully his cabinet, but that had become impossible because of the tight security around the building. Sanders commented, “This General Sharpe has the place so tightened up that Lincoln himself needs a pass signed by Sharpe. Everywhere he goes, he is well-guarded now. When he travels to his cottage at the Old Soldiers Home, a company of cavalry accompany him sabers drawn.
“The problem has become not whether we can kill him with a bomb but where we are going to place the bomb. And when. That is where you come in, Booth. We have concluded that the theater is the best place. We know he frequently attends the theater and especially Ford’s across the street. We can place the bomb under his box and set it to go off during the performance. The beauty of this is that we know he will come here. We plant the bomb and wait for him.”
Booth added, “He is likely to be at Ford’s anytime over the next few months. He is sure to come to see my brother play Hamlet early next month; I cannot think of a more perfect performance for our business, gentlemen. The play’s the thing in which we will do far more than catch the conscience of this king.” He laughed out loud at his own joke. “Hamlet is one of Lincoln’s favorites.” Then he added, the smile falling from his face, “And Edwin his favorite performer.” He was jealous of his brother even in the approbation of the man he intended to murder.16
“Booth, your job is to get Harlan and the bomb in the theater. That is the one thing we cannot do. It is up to you. Can you do it?”
“Of course, I can.” Booth said louder than Sanders would have liked.
“Then we need someone with access to the theater to set it off when Lincoln is in his box. Harlan can’t be around when it is time to set it off.”
Booth just smiled, radiating the charm that had made him so irresistible. It would be the part of a lifetime.
11
“Just Pitch into Him!”
THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, DC, 1:10 A.M., SUNDAY, APRIL 10, 1864
It was a glorious Spring day in Washington made more serene by the calm of a Sunday. A few church bells still peeled. The dogwoods in white and pink, wild cherries, redbud trees, and the fragrant purple-blue wisteria were in blossom. In Dublin at the same time the wagons with their burdens of pain from the field of Tallaght made their way to the city’s hospitals and churches. People lined the streets, their faces stricken at the moans and screams from the wagons. Others rushed along to give water and bread to those inside. From one wagon a shriek of utter despair rent the air. “My God, why hast Thou forsaken me!” From the stricken crowd a priest ran forward to climb into the wagon. He held the young man in his arms and whispered, “Say with me Our Father,” and through shudders of agony, they did, joined by the others who lay on the blood-slicked straw.
Of this and everything else that had s transpired in Ireland and England, no word had yet reached North America though steamers were straining their engines to the limit as they raced across the Atlantic with the news. It was without that information that Lincoln and his war cabinet would be determining the future direction of the double war faced by the Union.
Lincoln began a review of the means and resources of war with a story. “A picket challenged a tug going up Broad River, South Carolina, with:
“‘Who goes there?’”
“‘The Secretary of War and Major-General Foster,’” was the pompous reply.
“‘Aw! We’ve got major-generals enough up here—why don’t you bring us up some hardtack?’”1
Lincoln turned to Stanton and Carnegie. “So, boys, do we have enough hardtack for the rest of this war?”
Stanton, who had learned to live with being the butt of one of Lincoln’s stories, nodded to Carnegie, who picked up the thread. “Production of repeaters, ironclads, balloons, and submersibles is on schedule, and in the case of the repeaters, ahead of schedule.” It had been to Carnegie’s genius for organization that in such short time American industry had been put in such an effective harness as to begin to efficiently producing the new means of war. Tha
t effort would be studied for generations.
Lincoln felt the little Scotsman’s pause. “But?” he asked.
“Niter, Mr. President. Dupont’s best efforts with guncotton have not been successful. The eight thousand tons we on hand will last only until the end of the year. We can scrape more out of caves and dunghills, but it will severely limit our ability to carry on the war in other than a defensive way.”
“So we can fight like hell until December, I guess.” He looked over at Grant. This was not new ground for either of them, but it was best to have these issues out on the table for those charged with making war.
“Mr. President, if that is our limit, we must defeat the British in Canada first. Then we can finish off the rebels.” The general got up and went to the map that covered most of one wall. “If we were to attempt to conquer the whole country, it would dissipate our forces and require time-consuming sieges of Montreal and Quebec. Instead, we grab them by the throat.” His finger stabbed at Maine and ran up the Atlantic coast to Halifax. “We retake Maine and drive north to take Halifax. At one stroke we sever the only rail link the British have with Canada and take their major naval base in North America.”
Gus Fox added, “Yes, Halifax has all the facilities of a first-class naval base, vital to sustaining a fleet on blockade. They do not have another on this side of the Atlantic. And if they try to run up the St. Lawrence in the summer, we can build forts at points where it narrows to shut it down. Canada withers on the vine.”
Grant again: “Sickles’s IX Corps will demonstrate against Montreal and hold British forces there, while Sherman and the Army of the Hudson strike to Halifax. By this we force the enemy to disperse while we concentrate at the decisive strategic point.”
Seward’s hawk-nosed face was smiling. “If you can do this, General, I can squeeze a peace out of the British.”
Lincoln stood up and walked over to the map, pointing at Louisiana. “With any luck, if Franklin can take advantage of the raid on Ponchatoula, we may be able to see both of Jeff Davis’s foreign friends off. Bazaine should be in a world of hurt about now.”
Grant was already revealing more of his plans than he would have liked to, but the President had promised him that the timing and details would be entirely in his hands and that Grant did not even have to inform him. General Sharpe and Lafayette Baker, head of the Secret Service, had been plucking one British spy after another from employees of the federal government. The State Department clerk who had sold the Russo-American treaty to the British had already been tried by military commission and hanged. Sharpe and Baker, however, could not guarantee that there were not others.
Seward could usually see the flaws in any argument and asked, “And what of the rebels while we subdue Canada? Are we to give them the rest of the year for nothing?”
“No, our armies will move against theirs at the first opportunity. Every army will be committed so that the rebels cannot shift reinforcements from one to the other front.”
What Lincoln and Grant had not wanted to discuss even in front of the war cabinet was the news from Richmond courtesy of Miss Van Lew that Longstreet was being detached from Lee to strike at Fort Monroe.2 That news had been reinforced by the scouts and agents of the Army of the Potomac who observed the movement of the Confederate First Corps in the direction of the James Peninsula.3 Even if the fort held out, the tenuous supply route across the peninsula and the James River to Norfolk Naval Base would be severed. Then it would be the fleet at Norfolk and the Army of the James that would wither on the vine.
NEW ORLEANS, 2:00 P.M., SUNDAY, APRIL 10, 1864
Bazaine was, indeed, in a world of hurt. He had returned to New Orleans to remonstrate with Taylor over the withdrawal of most of his troops for the expedition to Arkansas when Ponchetoula fell. The French Army before Port Hudson was cut off at one stroke, its supply line severed. He at once set out to ride the more than hundred miles along the Mississippi to rejoin his army. With every mile his heart sickened as it was driven home to him that there was no road that paralleled the river. The river itself had been the great highway of Louisiana, and the U.S Navy controlled it most of the way. The roads that did exist all fed from the great sugar and cotton plantations to the wharves along the river. Everything else was a country lane. Where there were no plantations, pine woods stretched forever.
It would take four days of hard riding on good roads for Bazaine to reach his army. Without those roads Bazaine realized that he simply would never arrive in time to save his army. The only recourse was the river, as dangerous as it was. He commandeered a fast French steamer and ordered it north. When the captain objected, saying the American Navy prowled the river, he shouted, “Damn the Americans. I, a Marshal of France, command you.”
For Maj. Gen. Félix Charles Douay, acting commander of the Armée de Louisiane, the hurt was far more immediate. The continued siege of Port Hudson was clearly untenable. The army itself was trapped. There was no hope of retaking the depot at Ponchetoula. The Americans were snapping up the blockhouses on the road, and his own cavalry could only delay the strong American cavalry force pushing toward Baton Rouge. There was no escape by the river either. The only way out was overland along the roadless riverbank. For Douay the decision was obvious, which did not make it any easier. Douay was a good soldier who had fought in the Crimea and Italy; his bravery at Magenta and Solferino had been rewarded with general’s rank. He did not suffer from a want of physical or moral courage. In any case, Franklin decided for him by coming out from Port Hudson with most of his army to maneuver around his flank. Leaving part of his cavalry to delay him, Douay promptly evacuated the siege works and marched south to Baton Rouge.
Franklin rushed after to snap at his heels. He sent messenger after messenger to Grierson to press to Baton Rouge at all costs. If he could take the city before the French, they could bag the whole army. More importantly, Franklin the next day had put two infantry brigades on transports under Admiral Porter’s command to seize Baton Rouge before the French arrived. The current and the transports’ engines made far better time than even the most hurried pace of the French infantry.
Porter’s gunboats and ironclads surged down the river escorting the Union brigades, and with them were a dozen mortar boats that had been used to lob their huge shells up and onto Vicksburg on its high bluff. The French columns were already flowing south along the road that paralleled the river. Beginning five miles north of Baton Rouge the road swerved to parallel the river on some low bluffs barely two hundred yards inland. As Porter’s ships steamed past, the crews could see the columns in their blue coats and red pantaloons, the undefeated might of the French Army, marching at that quick pace perfected originally under Napoleon I. Between the regiments artillery batteries with their bronze guns drove their teams on.
At the sight of Porter’s flotilla, Douay shouted “Merde!” and turned to order his regiments to peel away inland. Too late. Porter had signaled from his flagship the order to fire at that very moment. The big guns of the ironclads and gunboats rippled in a continuous thunder sending their balls and shells directly into the dense column. At two hundred yards they could not miss; there had not been a more one-sided slaughter since Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg. The guns were followed by the mortars dropping huge shells onto the road and beyond where the French were fleeing. That beyond was nothing but muddy cane and cotton fields. Whole gun teams were swept away on the road or trapped in the sucking mud of the fields to be cut down as their drivers desperately but uselessly whipped their horses on. From the flotilla, through the smoke, observers could see bodies and even guns and caissons hurled through the air.
Douay never got to issue his order, for his body was one of those sailing skyward to fall broken into the cane. No one knew to take command. The lead French brigades had been savaged and had fled through the fields pursued by shrieking shells and solid shot. The rest of the column that had not come in range backed up in confusion as terrified men came running back down road
stampeding around the regiments still on the road.
In that hour of chaos, Porter’s transports landed at Baton Rouge and poured ashore the infantry brigades against feeble resistance. The city had been the logistics base of the Franco-Confederate army and was filled with warehouses, remount corrals, hospitals, wagon parks, and all the other services and facilities that keep armies alive. There were almost no combat troops other than provost guards, and these were brushed aside. Within another hour they were fighting off the attempt of the remnants of the French cavalry being pushed upon the city by Grierson’s superior force. Again and again the French turned to throw charges at the Americans. Grierson had dismounted some of his regiments to use their repeaters against which the French charges collapsed. His other regiments counterattacked, joined by the infantry coming from the docks. Surrounded, the French commander recognized reality and rode out to Grierson under a white flag to offer his sword. Only a squadron of Chasseurs d’Afrique managed to find an opening to the south of the city and cut their way through.
Grierson took command of the combined force and prepared to defend the city. More American infantry began arriving by transport until he had ten thousand men at hand. At the same time Franklin’s two corps made contact with the rear of the French army, deployed into line of battle, and attacked. Clumsily the French tried to deploy out of column. At the same time, Porter’s mortar boats began sending their shells in high trajectories into them. These heavy shells meant to smash fortifications were great man-killers.
Grierson’s patrols told him of the unfolding battle to the north of Baton Rouge and he led his troops out of the city to attack. The French fought back; they were veterans of countless battles in Algeria, the Crimea, Italy, and Mexico, but they fought not as an army but as broken parts. No one knew who was in command. Panic spread on that same wind, as cries of “Sauve qui peut!” (Save yourselves!) began to signal the unraveling of the force in a mass of terrified men. Soldiers started to surrender, but still a core of tough men fought on, now pressed into a tightening circle, a deadly target for coffee mill guns and infantry repeaters. At five in the afternoon the remnant of the Armeé de Louisiane threw down its weapons.
Bayonets, Balloons & Ironclads: Britain and France Take Sides With the South Page 30
