Anna nodded. “He likes children and they like him. He’s the favorite uncle.”
“What do you think he’d say about adopting a child?”
“You’d have to ask him that yourself.”
Nancy shook her head. “No. I know the answer. We’re too old.”
“Maybe you’re too old to adopt an infant,” Anna replied, “but this war is going to create a lot of orphans. The older ones will never be adopted.”
“I have to think about it. I’m not sure that I’m grown up enough to mother an adolescent.”
“Let’s go check on that adolescent lieutenant.” Anna got up and waited for Nancy to join her, then they both went into the kitchen.
“Is it warming up out there yet?” the lieutenant asked. “I started a fire in the boiler. The pressure should be up soon.”
“Pressure?” Nancy asked.
“Steam heat,” the man answered. “The dining room has radiators. Are you ladies guests here?”
“I’m General Van Buskirk’s sister,” Anna said, watching a coffee pot that was slowly beginning to percolate on the stovetop.
“And I’m his wife,” Nancy added.
The lieutenant looked worried. “Did I say something disparaging about generals when I came in?”
“If you’ll share that coffee, I didn’t hear you say a thing,” Anna said.
Nancy shook her head. “How did you get the stove to work?”
“It uses convection heat from the same coal fire that heats the boiler. It’s quite the newest thing. One fire for all purposes.”
“How about hot water in the loo?” Anna asked.
He nodded. “There should be hot water soon, if the pipes didn’t freeze while the fire was out.”
Nancy was opening and closing cupboards. “Did you notice any cups and saucers, Lieutenant?”
“China cabinet.” He pointed. “You ladies must have servants to cook for you.”
Anna looked surprised by the comment, then she nodded. “When I was a child I sometimes helped in the kitchen or I baked for fun, but I’ve never prepared a meal.”
“I’ve made tea and coffee,” Nancy said. “And I’ve heated things. But I can’t cook either.” She walked to the china cabinet and began removing cups and saucers. “I don’t know anything that’s practical.”
“You can ride a horse, hitch a team and you’re a good shot,” Anna said.
They all turned toward the door as Grant came in. “Good morning, ladies. How are we coming with that coffee, Lieutenant?”
“Not quite ready, sir,” the young man said. “Give it another minute.”
“I’ll take it as it is.” Grant looked at the teacups that Nancy was placing on saucers, then walked to the back of the kitchen and took two mugs off pegs on the wall.
The lieutenant took the pot off the stove and filled the mugs.
“What’s the plan, General?” Anna asked.
Grant sipped the weak coffee and then nodded his approval to the lieutenant. “If you have no objections, I’ll take Robert back to Cairo. An ambulance and a surgeon will be here shortly.”
“Can I come with you?” Nancy asked.
“Of course,” Grant said. He looked at Anna questioningly.
Anna shook her head. “The President’s little boy has died. He’s going to need some help getting through the next few weeks. I owe him that. And more.”
“I didn’t know,” Grant said. “Which boy?”
“Willie.” Anna pointed toward the dining room. “There’s a newspaper on the table. You’re welcome to it.”
“Thank you.” Grant pushed his way through the kitchen door and they heard the front door slam soon after.
“He’s as plain and comfortable as an old shoe,” the Lieutenant said with a smile. Then he looked at the two women. “I meant that in the most complimentary way.”
“We know what you meant,” Nancy said. “My husband has always said that Sam Grant is the greatest man he ever knew. Until quite recently, I thought he was mad, but I’m beginning to think that he may be right.”
“Did you ladies know he was promoted to major general yesterday?” the lieutenant asked proudly.
“No, but if I don’t get some coffee immediately I’m going to scream,” Anna said. “If it’s percolated enough for Unconditional Surrender Grant, it’s percolated enough for me.”
March 11, 1862
Washington, D.C.
Edwin M. Stanton had been Attorney General in the Buchanan administration. In the current administration, he had been the legal advisor to Secretary of War Simon Cameron until January, when Lincoln had replaced Cameron with Stanton. “Have you seen the report regarding the pontoon bridge at Harper’s Ferry, Mr. President?” Stanton asked.
“I’m a bit behind on my reading,” Lincoln said apologetically.
The President was alarmingly gaunt and pale with bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes, but Stanton seemed not to notice. “The pontoons are too large to pass through the canal locks.”
“What does that mean? Can they be fixed?”
“No. The whole operation has failed. It’s another colossal disaster. I’m beginning to suspect that McClellan knew the boats were too big from the start, but he constructed them anyway just to keep you appeased while he went forward with his plans for his Peninsula Campaign.”
Lincoln rubbed his eyes wearily. “I can’t believe that even Little Mac would have that much audacity, Mr. Secretary.”
“He as much as told me so,” Stanton replied.
“What do you want to do about it?” Lincoln asked.
“Relieve him.”
Lincoln seemed surprised. “That’s quite a switch. You’ve been trumpeting McClellan’s cause from the get-go.”
“Of late, I’ve come to see some things differently than I once did,” Stanton replied.
“Has your view of McClellan’s Peninsula Campaign changed as well?”
“Not entirely. The plan is sound and should succeed. If McClellan will move.”
“Trying to get General McClellan to move is about all I’ve done since the day I made him general-in-chief.”
“Remove him from that position, then. Leave him in command of the Army of the Potomac, but remove him as general-in-chief of all armies. It might spur him to action.”
“If I sign the order, will you serve it on him? I’m just too weary to argue with that man.”
“Yes. I’ve taken the liberty of preparing the order. If you will just sign here.” He pointed.
March 13, 1862
Washington, D.C.
Anna was shocked by Lincoln’s appearance. The president’s eyes were sunken in his already craggy face and their expression was haunted. She leaned toward him and resisted the impulse to touch his hand. “On the long trip from Cairo I’ve thought of little else but how to tell you how saddened I was to learn of Willie’s death. I never found the words.”
Lincoln nodded. “My poor boy was too good for this earth so God has called him home. I know that he’s much better off in heaven, but we loved him so that it’s a hard, hard thing to have him die.”
“Can I quote you?” Anna asked.
“What?” Lincoln looked as if she’d slapped him.
“There are reporters on the lawn clamoring for information. Let’s give them something so they’ll find a new bone to gnaw and we can get back to the task of running a nation.”
Lincoln nodded, then he looked at her in surprise as what she’d said registered. “We?”
“Yes. If you still want me.”
“I do. I really do. Now more than ever. I’ve issued an order to all Army personnel forbidding them from returning fugitive slaves to their masters. How that’s explained to the people is a delicate matter, since I’m effectively annulling the Fugitive Slave Law.”
“I’ll write something right away. But forgive me for bringing it up again; did you give me permission to use that quote about Willie?”
Lincoln nodded.
“How’s T
ad taking it?”
“It’s difficult to know. He cries all the time, but that could be because Mary is so distraught. Tad was sick with the same illness and the poor little fellow has not quite recovered.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“What I just said about Mary and Tad isn’t for publication.”
Anna nodded. “I have a reputation for using embarrassing quotations but I’ll never quote you without your permission, Mr. President. Never.”
“Thank you.” Lincoln tried to smile. “So tell me. What’s Grant like? I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t seem to even know the man’s correct name.”
“Ulysses Simpson Grant’s the name on his commission and on all official Army records, but his name on his birth certificate is Hiram Ulysses Grant,” Anna replied.
“How did that happen?”
“Someone at West Point bungled his records and entered his name as Ulysses Simpson Grant.”
“Why didn’t he correct it?”
“My brother says that Grant didn’t want to be a soldier so he didn’t care. The popular myth is that he liked the initials U.S. so he didn’t make the correction. It’s turned out to be providential now that, in all the newspapers, he’s being called Unconditional Surrender Grant.”
“His West Point friends call him Sam?”
“Yes.” Anna nodded. “He’s a man with many names. His mother calls him Ulysses but his wife calls him Uly or Dudy.” She giggled.
Lincoln grinned. “Duty with a T or Dudy with a D?”
“Dudy with a D. Don’t ask me what it means.”
“Probably a childish adulteration of daddy. Many a great man, and woman, has been saddled with a ridiculous name by an adored child.”
“Or by West Point cadets. My son is known as Pug.” She smiled.
“Your nephew is Pea, but that’s a family name, is it not?”
“Yes, Paul was named after Jane’s father, so they called him Sweet Pea as a baby to distinguish him from his grandfather. When he got older, they shortened it to Pea. I’m surprised that you know that.”
“His name and a brief biography just crossed my desk. He’s been promoted to captain and given command of an infantry company.”
“I’ve completely lost track of him.”
“His brother, John, is a lieutenant colonel in Jeb Stuart’s cavalry, I’m told.” Lincoln shook his head. “How sad that is; brother against brother.”
“If the purpose of this war was understood to be freedom for the slaves, Johnny would come home,” Anna suggested.
“You’re not the only person advising me to proclaim emancipation.”
“May I ask why you don’t?”
“It would alienate too many.”
“Your order to the military prohibiting the return of fugitive slaves is going to alienate anyone who’d be offended by emancipation.”
“We’ll see,” he said.
“I’m sure you’re aware that the South is doing all they can to bring England and France in on their side. If you were to state that the North is fighting to free the slaves…”
“That’s a thing I’ll never do.” His momentary good humor was lost. “This war is to preserve the Union.”
“Forgive me, Mr. President. I’ve overstepped. My only excuse is exhaustion. May I use an office here to draft your press release?” She began gathering her notes.
“Yes, you may, but don’t go just yet, please. We haven’t talked about your brother, Robert, or your adventure.”
“Oh.” She put her notes back on the couch beside her. “Well, it seems that he was standing on the deck of a transport vessel, directing it toward the shore to pick up troops, when the gunboat was hit and exploded. Robert was struck across his legs with a flying timber that knocked him into the water. It broke one leg and badly bruised the other. In the confusion, no one saw him. Unable to use his legs to swim, he caught onto a piece of flotsam and clung to it until the current brought him to the shore several miles downstream. A young woman who lived nearby found him, dragged him to her house, and set his leg. My sister-in-law and I found him there and took him in our wagon to Dover, where General Grant took over.”
“Remarkable. I’m told that Robert will recover the full use of his leg.”
Anna nodded. “The girl who found him knew what she was doing.”
They both jumped as the door was thrown open and Mary Lincoln came in. Her hair was unkempt and her dress was askew. “I must see you.” She looked at Lincoln with wild eyes and ignored Anna completely.
Lincoln got to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me please, Mrs. Lagrange.”
Anna stood up. “Of course, Mr. President.” She faced Mrs. Lincoln debating whether she should offer her condolences, but the woman immediately turned and left. Anna waited until Lincoln was gone, then gathered her notes and went out in search of desk space.
~
Anna completed her press release and went to find John Nicolay or John Hay. Both men were in Nicolay’s office. “The boss wanted me to write this up, but he was called away. Would you mind giving it to him when he comes back?”
Nicolay took the document. “Hello, Anna. Nice to see you back safe and sound. It’s been awhile. I’ve been fine, thank you for not asking. Do you remember John Hay? He’s been fine too.”
“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Forgive me. I’m dead tired. I’m delighted to see you both again.” She curtsied to each of them, then pointed to the document. “You will see that he gets that? Earliest?”
“Yes.” Nicolay handed her a message. “Have you seen this?”
Anna read it and looked at Nicolay with a shocked expression in her face. “Halleck’s replaced Grant with C.F. Smith?”
“That’s what it says,” Nicolay agreed.
“The boss is going to blow his stack,” Hay said.
“I should think so,” Anna grumbled. “And Halleck’s now sent Grant to Fort Henry.” She shook her head. “You should see that place. It’s in a swamp that’s mostly underwater and everything that isn’t underwater was blown to bits.” She rolled her eyes. “Dear God, I hope my poor brother’s not in that hell-hole with his broken leg.”
March 14, 1862
Fort Henry, Tennessee
Major General Ulysses S. Grant and Brigadier General Robert Van Buskirk were in a large field tent that had been erected behind the battlements of Fort Henry. The tent was furnished with two beds, two armchairs, a dining table with six chairs and a large secretary. In the corner, a Franklin stove crackled merrily, adding ambience as well as warmth. Boxes and crates of liquor, tobacco products, exotic food, fruit and confections lined the walls. Grant handed Robert a box of cigars trimmed in gold foil.
Robert opened the box and his eyes went wide. “You’ve made a mistake, Sam. These are five-dollar cigars.”
“They’re ten-dollar cigars and they’re yours. More if you want. I’ve got cases of ‘em. The Chicago paper took my picture with one of your cigars stuck in my mouth and now every cigar maker in the North has been sending them to me as gifts.” He wrinkled his brow. “Maybe I shouldn’t be accepting them. What do the regs say about gifts from civilians?”
“They probably say to return them, but a strong argument could be made that making you or the taxpayers pay the return freight would be a larger problem. Besides. You’re the most popular general since Washington.” He clipped a cigar, lit it and puffed. “Say, that’s good.”
“I can’t tell the difference between the dime cigars and the ten-dollar ones, but the Lord knows I owe you hundreds of cigars after all these years.”
“Consider the debt paid in full.”
“What I owe you I’ll never be able to repay.”
“Don’t start getting maudlin on me, Sam. Lincoln’s going to countermand Halleck and you’ll get your command back.”
“The worst thing about it is that I don’t know what I did wrong. I told Halleck that the troops from here had fled to Donelson and I gave him ample opportunity to order me not
to attack.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Halleck’s just jealous of all the press attention you’ve gotten.”
“It can’t be that simple.”
“Okay. He’s jealous and Charlie Smith told him that he’s a better man than you are.”
Grant shook his head. “Charlie Smith would never do that.”
“He must have been a little jealous of his student becoming his commander.”
“If he was, he never showed it by word or deed. I was rough on him for launching an attack at Donelson against my orders. He took it without so much as a flinch, then the next day he personally led the charge to regain the ground he’d lost.” Grant chuckled. “About halfway to the trenches his men began to falter and he yelled: ‘I see you skulkers. You volunteered to be killed for love of your country and now you can be.’”
Robert laughed. “And so, if Charlie’s not politicking against you, we’re left with Halleck’s jealousy as the only reason for you to have been relieved.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’m surely sorry that you were dragged into it.”
“Me?” Robert asked. “How have I been dragged in?”
“You’re here and Nancy’s in Cairo.”
“I tried to convince her to go with Anna, but she insisted on staying.”
Grant took a cigar from the box that he’d just given Robert, clipped it and lit it. “It’s none of my business, of course, but Nancy seemed fragile to me. I mean, she’s always been tough as nails. Like Anna. But – well… Ah, never mind. I already said too much.”
“No you didn’t. I noticed it too. Something’s happened to her since I rejoined the Army but she won’t tell me what.”
“She said that or you surmised it?”
“That something happened?”
“Yes.”
“I surmised it. She says nothing happened.”
“Women are hard to figure,” Grant said. “I don’t know why Julia’s stuck with me all these years.”
“Speaking of women, what does your mother have to say about your success?”
“She patted me on the cheek and said: ‘Well, Ulysses. You’ve finally become a great man.’” He laughed.
The Way of All Soldiers (Gone For Soldiers) Page 9
