The Confederate Union War

by Alan Sewell

  He pointed his arm out straight to signal that the guns had ceased firing. Wheat waved his men forward. The Tigers, moving forward with fixed bayonets and bowie knives at the ready, began infiltrating their way past the remains of the buildings demolished by Alexander’s artillery. Alexander heard rifle shots coming from the riddled buildings followed by screams as the Tigers cleared out the Rebels with bayonets and knives. The fighting lasted about twenty minutes, then the shooting and screaming ceased. Alexander heard the noise of other firefights echoing from other points in the city.

  He watched as one deranged Confederate, slashed from head to toe with oozing wounds, came running back down the street waving a pile of bleeding guts from his bayonet like a flag.

  “What you going to do with them guts, boy?” shouted a shock-crazed sergeant cradling a shattered arm as he propped himself up in a doorway.

  “I’m gonna cook ‘em and eat ‘em!”

  “Save some for me,” yelled the sergeant. “I can’t stand no more o’ that hardtack!” The sergeant howled with devilish laughter. Perhaps he was delirious from opium pills.

  “Sure, Sarge!” yelled the boy. He dropped the rifle with its pile of gore still dangling from the bayonet. He hollered out the “Yip, yip, yeeee---eeee---yoooowwwwhhhooooooo” that had become known as the Union Yell. It faded as he ran off toward the river front.

  Alexander was surprised at how little the sight affected him. A few days ago he might have vomited. Since then he had seen too much of the hand-to-hand city fighting that had driven the sanity from the young boy’s mind.

  The walking wounded began coming in, followed by the severely wounded carried on doors that had been blasted off their hinges. The Rebel and Confederate soldiers were placed side by side in the basement of the building that Alexander was operating from. Their wounds were washed and then bound with scraps of cloth by the Tigers’ ever-present retinue of army camp whores, most of whom looked tougher than the men. Some spoke in Louisiana Cajun while others sounded like local girls the Tigers had picked up after Alexander’s artillery knocked down the cat houses by the riverfront.

  Alexander heard these women use language that would have made the roughest stevedore blush. Yet their feminine nature showed itself in the tenderness of care they gave to the wounded of both sides. Some went to fetch pails of boiled water from the kettles in the makeshift hospitals closer to the riverfront. They passed around bottles of whiskey to the seriously wounded of both sides to ease their agony.

  The lightly wounded and uninjured Rebel prisoners were being collected separately from the seriously wounded. They were watched carefully by armed Confederates prior to being escorted to the riverfront for processing as prisoners. One of the slightly injured men was a Rebel lieutenant.

  “Care for a smoke,” Alexander asked the Rebel officer. When the Rebel nodded Alexander took a few pinches of tobacco out of his pouch, rolled them in a leaf, and passed it to him. A Confederate soldier used his smoke to light the Rebel’s.

  “Much obliged,” said the Rebel.

  Alexander lit his own and set down next to the Rebel.

  “Not meaning to disturb you, but how long have you been in this war, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Been in it since the beginning,” answered the Rebel, after relishing a puff of smoke. “I was with Jacob Loomis’ men at Delphi. I was here during the Partisan War. That was more of a riot than a battle. This is a real war we’ve got on our hands.”

  “It’s been a knock-down, drag-out fight,” Alexander agreed. “It’s cost us a lot of good men.” Including twenty-two of my best gunners killed by our own gun when it exploded.

  “It wouldn’t have cost you anything if you’d go back home and leave us go in peace,” replied the Rebel. “We shouldn’t be fighting a war between brothers.”

  “The politicians won’t leave the question of war up to us soldiers,” Alexander responded, not wishing to start an argument about which side was guilty of starting the war. “If they did there wouldn’t be any wars. I don’t know of any soldier who wouldn’t prefer peace. We’re the ones who do the dying when the talking stops.”

  “Ain’t that ever so right,” replied the Rebel. “Nobody on our side wants to fight, I can tell you that. For us it’s a question of a border. Horace Greeley has proposed one that everybody up here thinks is fair. All your side has to do is accept it. That would end the fighting tomorrow.”

  “President Davis is sworn to uphold the Constitution,” replied Alexander. “He won’t allow you Abolitionists to kidnap your states and take them out of the Union. No president of any party would allow that.”

  The Rebel laughed. “Funny how we heard nothing but talk of Secession by the South for all these years. You people bent our ears back with your talk about how the states are sovereign. We are only exercising are rights under your doctrine!”

  “Not everybody in the South agreed with that doctrine,” said Alexander. “We never had to put it to the test, Thank God. Stephen Douglas and Jefferson Davis put our Fire Eaters down. You Abolitionists should have calmed down too and let Douglas and Davis sort out our differences by Constitutional means.”

  “I’m no Abolitionist, not by a longshot,” retorted the Rebel, between puffs of smoke billowing out of his mouth with gusto. “I’m no friend of slavery, of course, but I’m of no mind to tell you fellows what you should do with your Negroes. That’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourselves in your own good time.”

  “If you don’t care about slavery why are you fighting to leave the Union?”

  “I’m fighting for the United States of Free America. Nothing against you Southerners, but we don’t want to be governed by you. We’re a different people.”

  “You are?” asked Alexander.

  “We’re mostly city people. You folks are farmers and plantation crackers. Not saying you’re bad people, but you’re holding us back. We want a government that builds our canals and railroads, protects our industries, and opens the West for settlement. We want to get on with our business in a new country where we don’t have to be bothered by you or your Negroes. We’d still like to be your friends, of course, but living in a country of our own making. I’m ready and willing to die fighting for my country. Are you willing to die to force me to be part of yours?”

  “I’m sorry it’s come to that,” said Alexander. “I’m a West Pointer. Some of my friends are fighting on your side. I wish we had all tried a little harder to live with each other before we resorted to war.”

  The Rebel nodded and puffed. “Maybe so,” he said noncommittally, not wanting to carry on a fruitless discussion about who to blame either. “Trouble is the fighting got started and took on a life of its own.” He sighed and let out a cloud of smoke. “That’s how most wars get started, isn’t it?”

  “Reckon so,” replied Alexander. “What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Jeremiah Sloan, but call me Jerry.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Jerry. I’m Porter Alexander. I hope we’ll live long enough to meet in peace one day.”

  “Much obliged for the smoke,” the Rebel said again. “God be with you.”

  The Confederate guards motioned the Rebel lieutenant to join the group of walking wounded they were escorting to the river.

  Alexander watched them go. He puffed on his hand-rolled cigar while deciding that now would be a good time to advance his observation post across Seventh Street in order to call in artillery fire when the next forward movement began. But he would take a few minutes to rest first. He thought about his conversation with the Rebel lieutenant.

  Lord knows, we have our share of hotheads in the South. Thank God Douglas and Davis stopped those crazy Southern Secessionists before they pulled our Southern Slave States out of the Union. We’d never have gotten all of the Slave States to go out of the Union. Maybe we would have gotten ten or eleven, but it might have been as few as four or five. We’d have ended up fighting a Union of Free States and Upper South Bor
der States. Instead of fighting in Cincinnati and Providence to restore the Union we would have been fighting in Nashville and New Orleans to break it. I don’t believe we could have won such a war. Thank God we weren’t called upon to fight it.

  32

  The White House, December 18, 1861

  Secretary of War Edwin Stanton had taken up McClellan’s former role of collecting the latest telegrams from the War Department and summarizing them for the President each morning. Jefferson Davis had become accustomed to Stanton presenting the information of importance while omitting the unreliable information that tended to obscure matters.

  Davis was coming to understand that the details of a continent-wide war involving close to a million men on each side --- its pace made all the faster by railroads, telegraphs, and steamships --- were getting beyond the ability of even a keen mind like his to comprehend. It took other keen minds, like Stanton’s, to filter the details and present the important ones requiring executive decisions to the President. This wasn’t an easy realization for a man as self-reliant as Davis to acknowledge. But he had come to see that he had no choice other than to use men such as Stanton to leverage his executive authority. It was a role that Stanton was rapidly mastering and relishing.

  Davis looked outside the windows of the Executive Office. The iron-gray sky shed a cold rain that pooled on the windows. Perhaps the first flakes of snow would be on the way by Christmas. He sipped a coffee and motioned for Stanton to begin his report. Stanton was eager to give it.

  “Mr. President:

  “We have encouraging news from the Cincinnati front. We kicked the Rebels where the sun doesn’t shine when we took the city, at least the part of it that matters, away from them.”

  Davis responded without enthusiasm. “Was it necessary for Lee to bombard the city so heavily? I was handed a note from the British Ambassador yesterday imploring me to order our armies to exercise a proper regard for humanity when advancing against Rebel-held cities.”

  “The Rebels must have spies here who told the ambassador a lurid tale of destruction, rape, and pillage,” surmised Stanton. “They’re turning every trick in the book to persuade the British to intervene in their favor. After this war is over we’ll have to settle accounts with the British. It’s outrageous that they’ve allowed the Rebels free transit through the Canadas. These allegations of our disdain for humanity can only be meant to pave the way for intervention. I’ll put a discrete watch on the British embassy to see if we can identify the Rebels who are communicating with them.”

  Davis nodded. “I’m sorry if I sounded tail-down, but this protest from the British is one thing I don’t need to worry about at the moment.”

  “I understand, Mr. President. But the point is that the bombardment was necessary. The Rebels would have poured men into the city if we hadn’t destroyed the railroads, telegraph lines, and canals at the outset. Without the bombardment we might not have obtained even a foothold in the city. Look what happened to our men at Providence when McClellan moved against it without a bombardment. And Lee did offer the Rebels an ultimatum to evacuate. After they refused, he had every right to bombard it. The British should have no difficulty understanding the doctrine of military necessity, considering the amount of fighting they do around the world.”

  Davis’ face brightened. “Yes, I will explain it exactly that way in my reply to the ambassador.”

  “The military necessity of occupying Cincinnati is undeniable!” exclaimed Stanton. His face shook so excitedly that Davis could hear his beard rustle against his clothes. “Our taking of most of the city has not only halted the Rebel offensive toward Louisville, but has given us an opportunity to trap the enemy. General Lee has moved his men through the portion of the city we control and then eastward into the rear of the Rebel army operating against Harney in southern Indiana. Logan’s Division reached the vicinity of Lawrenceburg yesterday. Reports from Harney’s front this morning say that the Rebels have evacuated Madison and Vernon.”

  Stanton switched from reporting the telegraphed reports to interpreting what he estimated their implications to be.

  “The Rebels are trying to skedaddle back through Lawrenceburg before Lee closes off their line of retreat,” he elaborated. He did not actually know that, but he had observed how military men thought and fought. He had been proven accurate enough times to convince Davis to value his estimations. “If Lee and Harney can coordinate their attacks from the east and west so as to block the Rebels from escaping north of the Miami River it is possible that the bulk of the Rebel forces operating under Mitchell will be cut off and captured.”

  “Oh?” said Davis. “That is excellent news. It will alleviate the sting of Lee’s defeat at The Salient. The papers have been merciless in their criticism of his losing all those men and then abandoning what little ground he gained. They are undermining the morale of some of our people in the government, and more importantly, I fear, of the soldiers.”

  “That’s another matter I wanted to discuss with you!” replied Stanton. “We’re at war to put down the Rebellion. We don’t need the Southern Rights men in the Loyal States stirring up a fire in our rear. Do you know about the Southern Rights Convention they’re calling for?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard about that foolishness. Haven’t had time to dwell on it though, not with all the other activity that’s come to my attention.”

  “Mr. President, that convention is seditious. Criticizing the civil policies of government is one matter. Calling upon us to give up a war against the traitors in rebellion is another.”

  Davis grimaced.

  “They’re fulminating against the national army, the currency, the excise taxes, and the tax in kind,” Stanton added. “They’re agitating the people not to enlist in the National Army or to pay the commissary agents taxes in kind or to hire out their slaves for government work. Is that not ‘giving aid and comfort to the enemy?’ Wouldn’t it be best to move against them now, before the real trouble starts when they convene their convention in Charleston?”

  “Let’s wait and see if they have the courage to go on the record with their complaints,” advised Davis. “If they do, then we can raise the question of whether they are giving aid and comfort to the enemy. If they don’t go on record, we can suggest that they lack the courage to say in public what they profess to believe in private.”

  “Maybe that will shame them into silence,” replied Stanton reluctantly. “But we need to start showing our teeth. We can put our men in the Charleston post office to make it difficult for Rhett to disseminate his treason rags. That will get his attention.”

  Davis rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether Stanton was exercising his arid sense of humor or whether he was perfectly serious. If Stanton was serious, what else might he think of to discourage the Administration’s critics? Davis decided that he should discourage Stanton from becoming too rambunctious at the moment, but that he should not rebuke him in case his machinations might be needed in the future.

  “Before we consider extreme measures let’s see what the newspapers say after we win these battles around Cincinnati and Lawrenceburg. Nothing quiets noisy newspapermen like success. How much of Cincinnati is actually in our possession?”

  “Our men have cleared it to Liberty Street. That’s the limit of our artillery fire support from across the river. Lee has decided not push any further north for now as he wants his men available to fight the decisive battle shaping up at Lawrenceburg. Why don’t we wait a day or two to see how that battle develops? If it yields the anticipated results we can announce a victory there and at Cincinnati.”

  “Yes,” agreed Davis. “Let’s do wait until we can announce both victories simultaneously. That will magnify their effect on the public mind. Gaining control of Cincinnati and points west seems like a fair bargain for our giving up the territory we won in The Salient.”

  “It’s much more than a fair bargain,” replied Stanton. “Besides being a transportation center, Cincinnati has
a large manufacturing and commercial establishment valued at many millions of dollars. At least it was valued at many millions before Fremont and Lee unloaded their artillery on it. Our occupation prevents their incursions into Kentucky, which would have been expected to follow their incursions into Maryland and Missouri.”

  “What are we going to do about those?” Davis asked sharply, his mind suddenly returning to the unpleasant question of how the Confederate Union was going to respond to invasions of its territory. “Fremont is stirring up a hornet’s nest in Maryland. I’ve received over two hundred telegrams demanding that I remove ‘the invader’ from our soil. I don’t like that term ‘invader’ by the way. Fremont’s men are rebels against this government, not foreign invaders.”

  “We’ve moved some partially trained regiments of the National Army up from Baltimore to the Susquehanna,” Stanton explained. “They’ll complete their training there while being on alert to repel any attempt by the Rebels to advance across the river. General Longstreet has sent one of his infantry brigades and a cavalry battalion to assist the Maryland Militia in containing Fremont’s movement through Cecil County. It’s engaged about four miles southeast of Elkton. If Fremont moves deeper into Maryland or Delaware we can reinforce Longstreet’s men and cut him off.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Secretary. You have responded well.”

  “The incursion makes Fremont look silly,” opined Stanton. “He thought he was coming South to liberate four million slaves and all he turned up was two broken down old Darkies. If anything, his ‘Liberation Proclamation’ is educating our people to the danger an independent Free State Republic poses to our northern border. It might even induce Rhett and Yancey to join us in fighting the Rebellion instead of agitating the Southern Rights men against us.”