by James Devine
“Heard he’s gone south now, too.”
“Well he’s resigned his commission, that’s fact. Damn near broke the General’s heart, according to Wilder. Says the Old Man pleaded with him. Told him he was making the mistake of his life. Wilder was pretty broke up, too. They were roommates at The Point, apparently. Tommy says Lee looked him in the eye and told him he’d never take up his sword again, except in defense of Virginia.”
“What a load of crap. Where the hell does he think this big fight that’s coming is gonna take place? Texas?”
The two friends grinned again. Then the bulky Savage, whose men always said he’d been assigned to the infantry in consideration of the Army’s horses, grew more serious. “Actually, Brian, Wilder knows Lee fairly well, if anyone can say they know him. Strange young man. Most serious junior officer I’ve ever met. Yet to hear him crack a joke, even in the officer’s mess at the Fortress. Anyway, Tom thinks that was Lee’s way of saying he won’t condone or participate in any hit-and-run raids on Georgetown.”
Judge was unimpressed. “That’s damn Christian of him. Seeing how he ain’t cavalry. Damn prudent, too, seeing how he knows we’ve got enough regulars here now to handle any attack short of brigade-strength…”
Savage drained his beer and signaled for two more. “Brigade-strength; still sounds strange hearing that. I mean, we’ve studied brigade and division organization, dreamed about leading corps. After all these years in our miniature little army, just never expected to be discussing it so casually, so matter-of-fact…”
Judge took a deep pull from his own beer. “We’ll be doing more than discussing them. Organizing and training are to officially begin at Carlisle Barracks September 15th, though I hear old Wool’s on his way there now. Apparently, the Pennsylvania troops are already shaping up there.” He sighed. “I’d wondered if the people up North would even respond to our call for volunteers…”
“Oh, they’re responding, Colonel Judge. Haven’t you read the Boston and Philadelphia papers? “It’s “On to Richmond!’”
“’On to Richmond?’ By God, Billy, they have to give us a chance to whip an army together! We can’t possibly be ready to fight before late fall. Otherwise, we’d just be leading an armed mob…”
Savage’s look was half-grin, half-grimace. “Don’t believe we’ll have that long, Colonel. Wilder tells me the South has a slogan, too. It’s ‘On to Georgetown!’ Apparently, it offends their Southern sense of honor that our capital is situated in their country…”
“What?”
Savage laughed as his friend choked on his beer. “Didn’t you know? They’re claiming all the land south of the Mason-Dixon line.”
Colonel Judge shook his head. “The bastards are crazy. I hear they claimed Kentucky and Missouri were in this confederacy of theirs, even though Clay and Benton and most of the rest of the Congressional delegations have remained loyal. Same with Maryland.”
“That may be true, Brian, but the Southerners haven’t let facts get in the way since this whole thing commenced. They get one soldier, one Congressman and they claim the state. Hear they’ve invited Quebec to join them, too.”
“Now that is insane.” Judge shook his head again as a grin broke out. “Come to think on it, they’re welcome to those damn Frogs. God knows, they’re more trouble than they’re worth…”
“That they are, Colonel. Apparently, General Scott thinks so, too. Rumor is, his contingency plan calls for the British to keep Quebec quiet.”
Judge looked thoughtful. “Is that a fact? Well, good thing. We’re gonna need every last one of Matty Van’s 30,000 volunteers down here. The Southerners may be insane, but they can fight. Harper’s Ferry proved that.”
Savage took a deep chug on his newly arrived brew. “I think we already knew they possessed the ability, Colonel Judge. What the Ferry proved was the will.”
___________
The White House
Richmond, Virginia
September 1, 1833
10 a.m.:
John C. Calhoun’s leadership style, his enemies in the North would say, inaccurately, was autocratic. In this, as in so much else about the man, their estimate was slightly off kilter. And in many ways, it was this misconception that had led to the present situation.
For although Calhoun’s leadership style was forceful---he simply believed he instinctively knew what was best for his beloved South---he recognized and practiced the key leadership principle of delegation. While it was from his fertile brain that much of the concepts of states rights and nullification had first sprung, he had delegated responsibility for espousing much of those doctrines to others. It was Senator Troup who was known as the “Hercules of States Rights”, after all, while Representative McDuffie had drafted the address to the Dominion from the South Carolina Nullification Convention back in ’31.
Calhoun practiced the art of delegation in putting together the CSA government. Nowhere was this more evident than in his startling selection of a Secretary of War. While the usual suspects---Mangum, Edward Hayne---were bandied about, Calhoun reached into the ranks of the old USBAA and plucked the obscure former Chief Engineer, Charles Gratiot of Missouri, to head the Department. The President wanted a War Secretary who would build the Confederacy its armies, but not interfere once the men were in the field. Who better than this very early West Point graduate who had built his career exclusively in the Corps of Engineers, administering the USBAA’s massive program of river, harbor, road and fortification construction?
Now Calhoun and Secretary Gratiot were debating the selection of the commanding officer for the force Gratiot was constructing to meet Scott’s anticipated drive on Richmond.
Edmund Gaines was certainly a candidate. The acting chief-of-staff had demonstrated organizational and tactical skill---and surprising daring---in putting together the Harper’s Ferry and Fortress Monroe operations. But, at age 55, he was somewhat old to lead men into the fight. Better that he remain in Richmond as the CSA’s chief war planner.
David Twiggs, 43, was obviously a prime candidate. He had volunteered during the Louisiana campaign and had served ever since, including action against the Seminoles in Florida and other tribes in the West. Calhoun and Gratiot were grateful that he had turned over Monroe with a minimum of bloodshed; yet, there was something somehow distasteful and dishonorable about his ‘midnight’ action. No, Twiggs would receive his general’s commission and a command, but it would be a subordinate one…
Rumor had it that Zach Taylor was on his way from New Orleans. If it were true---and Calhoun had sent messengers south in several directions to find him---there was the commander they were seeking! Taylor might be somewhat unorthodox---there might be ‘spit’ but there was clearly no ‘polish’ to him---but he was a magnificent soldier who had been leading men into combat since his days fighting Techumseh.
Yes, they agreed, Taylor would be offered the top command, with Twiggs under him. They had some time yet; their already active spy network in Georgetown reliably told them that the target date for organizing the enemy force up in Pennsylvania was still two weeks away. That should be enough time to ascertain if Taylor was with them. If not, they’d revisit the issue. Meanwhile, Gratiot and Gaines would go about building up the CSA’s own forces.
The chief emerging issue was the shortage of other identifiable qualified senior officers. The younger officer recruits were magnificent. This Albert Sidney Johnston had already proved himself in combat, while Gratiot himself had been talking up Robert Lee for weeks. Major Beaufort appeared to have the makings of a cavalry commander, while Joseph Johnston seemed to know his way around artillery. All, of course, were West Pointers; there’d be more, Calhoun and his War Secretary agreed. Still, they could use some slightly more mature professional officers. The word was that British half-pay officers were applying for posts in the USBAA. That’s a resource the Confederacy wouldn’t be able to mine, they agreed. Thus far, only this Capt. Harry Bassett had resigned his commission and offe
red his services. That was to be expected, of course; after all, the man was married to the daughter of the Governor of Mississippi!
Well, there were bound to be some adequate officers among the state regiments. But it would take a fight to highlight them.
And, if there’s one thing both sides agreed on, it was that one big fight is all it will take to decide this issue…
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Latoure Townhouse
Georgetown, D.C.
September 13, 1833
10 a.m.:
Lucille had watched them march in over the past month with a growing sense of rage.
First, the regulars from Ft. McHenry under an impossibly tall and lanky officer that Thomas had innocently later identified as a Major Judge. Then, the young cadets from West Point led by their commandant and another officer. Tom had remarked that the commandant, Colonel Thayer, was to be Scott’s chief-of-staff. The second officer apparently was the grim William Worth, who she had informed Richmond---via a surprisingly easy secret correspondence---was currently the ‘tactical’ commander---whatever that meant---of the Georgetown defenses.
The regulars she could tolerate; even the cadets, since she had been informed that scores of Southern-born West Pointers had resigned and were pouring into Richmond.
But now these tough-looking men! The 1st and 2nd Ohio were marching down Pennsylvania Avenue, led by a tall, solidly built, terrifying-looking officer. Rumors in the city had another Ohio regiment, one from Indiana and some Illinois volunteers not far behind!
These were the Black Hawk War veterans, Tom had helpfully explained the previous evening, battle-hardened troops who would go right into the defenses as their combat experience negated any need for the training camps now opening at Carlisle Barracks.
“We can all rest easier now,” he said. “The Reb threat to Georgetown, if they were planning anything anyway, is over for now. In fact, we’ll be sending reconnaissance parties into Virginia any day now.”
‘Reconnaissance parties’, he carefully explained, were well-armed scouting patrols looking for any signs of Rebel activity.
Lucille was now including that in her latest report to Richmond, along with the information that the vaunted and long-expected western volunteers had begun to arrive. The report would go to Jaine at Alexandria, carried by one of their Cranford ‘people’ along with other mail, newspapers and supplies. Jaine would then forward it to Richmond, using middle-aged married men from Alexandria Importing-Exporting who were not as yet needed by the Confederate Army. Even though Alexandria was technically in ‘enemy territory,’ a strange twilight attitude had been adopted by both sides: mail was exchanged and travel was unimpeded in the area between Georgetown’s Potomac-side defenses and the as-yet-undetermined (at least by the USBAA) Rebel picket line somewhere outside Richmond.
Lucille and her cohorts, Jaine and Mary Lee, were taking full advantage of the situation to send a flood of raw information, rumor and gossip to the Confederate leadership. The pipeline had been brought to the CSA War Department’s attention by Major Beaufort, who had explained the allegiance of the Latoures (Mary Lee’s support was of course naturally assumed) to General Gaines. The General had been pleased and, secretly, amused to discover that among the pipeline’s unsuspecting sources was Scott’s own intelligence aide.
Captain Wilder was sophisticated enough not to drop serious military secrets, even to Lucille. The identification of the various regiments and commanders pouring into Georgetown could not be kept under wraps for long in any case. But in inadvertently putting the pieces of the puzzle together for Lucille, he was speeding up the identification process that she was then hurrying down to Richmond.
Tom was for the most part too busy and preoccupied with military matters to give much attention to his checkered romantic life. In any case, Candice was at Twin Peaks, supervising negotiations with the army for her prized horse herds. Lucille, whose interest in the crisis he found encouraging, had become more cordial as things worsened. He had begun dropping by the townhouse most evenings for a quick drink or supper. Naturally, or so he thought, their talk centered on the war…
Lucille was folding her report to give to Sebastian when she remembered a last detail. The commander of the Ohio troops, that big, scary-looking officer, was one Col. Dennis Felton.
___________
Governor-General’s Office
The Residency
September 14, 1833, 12 p.m.:
With the Georgetown defenses now overflowing---most of the troops had been placed north of the city, as Scott assumed any Rebel movement would come out of the Blue Ridge and down across Maryland---General Worth had departed for Carlisle, where Northern volunteer regiments continued to come in. Meanwhile, elements of the Regular Army were also converging on the Barracks, some from half-denuded Western posts. Others would eventually arrive from the South, where most coastal forts had been abandoned on Scott’s orders. As he had explained to the G-G and Wellington, “we can’t supply the coastal installations indefinitely. Not with half the Royal Navy’s Atlantic Squadron ordered to the Mediterranean. And I can use the troops up here, where the main fighting will be. We’ll stay at Key West and Mobile Harbor for now as they are in more isolated locations where CG brigs can reach them without being subject to fire. Anyway, I expect this to be over before any evacuation order could even reach them, much less be implemented.”
Troop E in Arkansas were also a special case. “The Troop is essentially the only organized military unit in the territory. But they can’t hold on forever without resupply. So I’ve ordered them to march northwest toward Missouri, where they’ll be nearer supplies. I’d like to have them for the fight that’s coming, but they’re simply too far away to be counted on. If this thing is extended, we can build a western force around them later.”
Seated behind Jackson’s old desk, Van Buren’s face paled: “Extended, General? You’ve led me to believe a single battle, our own Armageddon, will settle this.”
The two warriors looked over the tiny G-G’s head at each other before Scott spoke. “Well, Mr. Governor, a decisive battle is certainly what we’re pointing for. However, there is always the possibility that the fight will be less than conclusive…”
“I agree, General Scott.” The Duke was brisk but reassuring. “You see, Mr. Governor-General,” he said, turning to Van Buren, “one must always have a contingency plan to fall back on. General Scott is being prudent in planting the core of a western force near Missouri against the unlikely chance extended fighting might call for a contested march back into central Arkansas or Mississippi.”
“…Additionally,” Scott resumed, “it will have a positive effect on keeping Missouri in the Dominion.”
Wellington turned back to Scott: “That too, I can see. However, General, the main theater of course will be in northern Virginia. How soon will you be ready?”
The General began to pace the room, his long legs eating up the distance in four or five steps. He paused before the open window with its view of Arlington House in the distance.
“I would prefer to march approximately November 1st. That would allow us a month of relatively decent weather. Enough time to meet a Rebel force in the field or to invest Richmond, in the unlikely case they choose not to come out and fight. However…”
He held up a huge paw as Matty Van began to voice his strenuous objection. “…I am aware, Mr. Governor, of the pressure you are under in the northern press and from London…” He glanced ruefully at Wellington, shifting his legs in his chair---the politico and the soldier doing internal battle---before continuing.
“…So I have ordered Worth and Wool to be ready to move out October 15th. General Thayer informs me he can have the Carlisle army fully equipped and supplied well before that.”
“A reasonable compromise, General.” Wellington looked over at Van Buren. “I concur. October 15th is the optimum date: it allows enough time for training while also allowing enough time for a fall campaign.”<
br />
The G-G nodded. “All right, gentlemen. I will accede to your decision. October 15th it is.”
As Scott and Wellington walked down The Residency steps, the General turned to his old chief: “Optimum time, Sir ? You know as well as I that 30 days is foolhardy and dangerous. Damn it, Sir! We shouldn’t move out until spring…”
Wellington mounted his horse before looking down at the glowering Scott and replying: “You are militarily correct, of course. In an ideal world, yes. But under the present conditions, intolerable delay...
“Consider these facts, General: the Rebels will have had as little chance as your forces to train and coalesce. And, General, we hold the ace:
“You.”
Wellington pulled on his reins and trotted down the driveway. Scott, meanwhile, let loose with a series of quiet oaths that would have made the lamented Jackson blush…
___________
Camp Washington
(outside Richmond)
September 16, 1833:
General Twiggs was pleased. The Camp was filling rapidly with regiments from across the Upper South, with the exception, of course, of Tennessee. Even the Kentuckians---who are calling themselves “The Orphans” because that damn Clay convinced the state legislature to remain in the Dominion---are already here in regimental strength.
He had five regiments of Virginians thus far and an almost equal number from North Carolina. There was even a regiment from Maryland, even though that state had also failed to secede. All told, I have about 12,000 infantry in a dozen regiments and another 1700 in cavalry, along with six batteries of artillery.
Of course, that is on paper. These men might be formed into regiments, but they are scarcely trained as yet. Sidney Johnston’s seeing to that, however. The West Pointers, both those come directly from the Old Army, and others who have come from their homes leading their local regiments, are shaping these boys up. And young Joe Johnston is proving a godsend in drilling the artillery.
