While at the military academy Hood received demerits for, among other things, a disorderly room, an improperly made bed, improperly folded clothes, absence or tardiness for events, visiting other cadets, using chewing tobacco, visiting the commandant’s tent with a cigar in his hat, and wearing the wrong collar to church. Few of his demerits were for military infractions. For example, he was never late for military instruction and never received a demerit for his performance during military drill or training, for having an unclean weapon, or for the “condition of his military equipage.” Hood’s academic weaknesses were in formal classroom subjects such as mathematics and languages, while he did reasonably well in the military-related curriculum.5
In 1860, seven years after graduation, Hood was invited to serve as chief instructor of cavalry at West Point. When he declined the prestigious position, U.S. Adjutant General (and future Confederate general) Samuel Cooper responded, “Mr. Hood, you surprise me. This is a post and position sought by every soldier.” Why would the administration of West Point want to subject young impressionable cadets to an allegedly intellectually deficient, “ill-mannered hellion” who had just managed to “squirm and prod” (to quote Sword) his way through the school?6
Critics often cite Hood’s low class ranking at West Point to support their claim that he lacked intellect. Hood graduated in 1853 in the bottom third of his class (44th out of 52). Additional information authors rarely share with their readers puts Hood’s performance at the Academy in proper perspective. In the 19th century, only one-half of all West Point applicants passed the entrance examination. Hood’s Class of 1853 began four years earlier with 93 cadets. So of the approximately 200 candidates who attempted to enter the academy in 1849, fewer than half earned admission, and of those who did, 41 cadets either withdrew for personal reasons or were expelled for academic or disciplinary deficiencies during the next four years. To portray any West Point graduate— then or now—as undisciplined or ignorant is both inappropriate and inaccurate, regardless of final class ranking.7
Furthermore, class ranking at West Point has never been a fail-safe indicator of postgraduate accomplishment. Many renowned Civil War commanders who graduated from West Point did so in the bottom half of their class. Some of them include: Confederate President Jefferson Davis; Adj. Gen. Samuel Cooper; Gens. William Hardee, W. H. T. Walker, James Longstreet, D. H. Hill, Lafayette McLaws, E. Kirby Smith, Fitzhugh Lee, George Pickett, and Joe Wheeler; and one of Robert E. Lee’s personal favorites, Henry “Harry” Heth, who finished dead last in the Class of 1847. West Point “underachievers” also populated the ranks of the Federal army, including: Ulysses S. Grant, Philip Sheridan, Don Carlos Buell, George Custer, Winfield Scott Hancock, George Stoneman, and Alexander McCook. Hood was in good company.8
Post-Civil War West Pointers who excelled in combat included Matthias Day, who finished 70th of 76 in the Class of 1877 (and went on to win the Medal of Honor fighting Apaches in 1879), and Powhatan Clarke, who won the Medal of Honor in 1886 despite finishing last in the West Point Class of 1884. Conversely, commanders with a high West Point class ranking, such as Braxton Bragg, G. W. Smith, and P. G. T. Beauregard, enjoyed limited success on Civil War battlefields. Indeed, William Henry Chase Whiting offers one of the finest examples of underachievement on the job. After graduating from Georgetown University at 16, he entered West Point and graduated first in his class in 1845. Whiting performed so poorly at the head of a division of combat troops that Gen. Robert E. Lee replaced him—with John Bell Hood.9
Jeb Stuart, West Point Class of 1854, explained that success at West Point was not guaranteed by high intellect, nor did a lack of accomplishment foretell future failure. “For one to succeed here, all that is required is an ordinary mind and application; the latter of which is by far the most important and desirable of the two,” explained the brilliant cavalry general. “For men of rather obtuse intellect, by indomitable perseverance, have been known to graduate with honor; while some of the greatest geniuses of the country have been found deficient, for want of application.”10
George C. Strong, who graduated fifth in the West Point Class of 1857, explained the kind of creative genius that the low-ranked cadets often employed. “It is a favorite idea among many here that it requires an abler man to stand at the foot of the class throughout the course than at the head of it,” Strong observed. The “Immortals,” as the lower-ranked cadets were called, often would exert only sufficient effort to get by day-to-day, but would then spend “one or two days or nights of intense application” prior to exams to ensure success. Strong added, facetiously, “These are some of the symptoms of that epidemic which is called Genius.”11
Hood scholar Brian Miller countered criticisms of Hood’s low grades at West Point. Miller (a college professor himself) astutely concluded, “In the midst of battle, French, math and English seem inconsequential.”12
Early writers on the Army of Tennessee were generally respectful of Hood as a person. Thomas Connelly appears to be the first to have assailed the general’s personal integrity. In a vague and nonspecific explanation of the requirements required for an army commander to be effective in the “western command system,” Connelly proclaimed that Hood “simply did not have the character that was required,” and that “essentially, Hood was untruthful.” Connelly’s ad hominem attack even challenged Hood’s mental and emotional stability by claiming that his “physical handicaps were no less than his emotional ones,” and that his “personality had suffered almost as much from his successes as his body had from injuries.” Connelly provided no sources for these baseless allegations because there are none. His amateurish attempt at psychoanalysis conflicts with every account recorded about Hood by contemporary physicians, who described him as physically and mentally robust.13
Of Hood’s critics—wartime, postwar, and modern—Wiley Sword stands out as the one who seized almost any opportunity to diminish the young general. Although famous for his powerful physique and handsome appearance, Hood was said by Sword to have had facial hair that “so elongated his face as to make it appear of outlandish size,” and to have looked like a “backwoods lumberjack masquerading in the uniform of a Confederate general.” Sword may have lifted and paraphrased the depiction of Hood from Col. J. C. Haskell’s memoirs, who wrote that Hood, then a young lieutenant colonel of the Texas brigade, looked like “a raw backwoodsman, dressed up in an ill-fitting uniform.” If Sword relied upon Haskell’s description, he refrained from informing his readers of Haskell’s next sentence: Hood “afterwards filled out and became quite a fine looking man of good address.”14
Although in and of itself unimportant, Sword’s physical description of Hood revealed a strong bias. Countless contemporary sources described Hood’s impressive physical appearance, among them Pvt. Philip D. Stephenson of the (Louisiana) Washington Artillery, who wrote:
Hood’s personal appearance was striking and commanding. He was over six feet and of splendid proportions … [his] eyes were large and bold. … The general effect of his presence was impressive … of magnificent and striking appearance. With his yellow waving hair and great tawny beard and big bold blue eyes and Herculean frame he looked like a gigantic old Saxon chieftain come to life again.
Sword’s backwoods lumberjack was Stephenson’s mythological Greek hero and reincarnated Saxon chieftain. Famous Civil War diarist Louise Wigfall Wright described Hood as “superbly handsome, with beautiful blue eyes, golden hair and flowing beard—broad shouldered, tall and erect,” yet Sword, reluctant to say anything positive about Hood, coined a puzzling expression by describing him elsewhere in his book as “almost handsome.”15
Unique among Civil War authors, Sword also overtly diminished Hood’s renowned battlefield successes prior to joining the Army of Tennessee as a corps commander in the spring of 1864. His career offered “a remarkable insight into the incomplete role of physical courage in his life,” explained Sword, who went on to write that earlier in the war Hood “seemed endowed
with good luck equal to his bravery.” Hood, he continued, was a “rising star… who just might be destiny’s darling” in Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. Sword attributed Hood’s universally lauded leadership and tactical prowess at the decisive Confederate victories at Gaines’s Mill and Second Manassas essentially to good luck. After the battle of Sharpsburg (where Hood’s heavily outnumbered brigades played a significant part in holding together Lee’s left flank), his “ambition began to burn ever brighter in his mind,” claimed Sword. No historical document suggests such a thing at that time, or evidences any obsessive ambition within Hood. But even if this was true, is it not healthy for career soldiers to be ambitious? For that matter, how many professionals in any vocation (including authors and historians) are not ambitious?16
At Gaines’s Mill (Lee’s first victory as commander of the Army of Northern Virginia), Hood fulfilled a promise to his old command, the 4th Texas Infantry, by personally leading his troops during a successful frontal assault that routed Fitz John Porter’s heavily entrenched defenders. According to Sword, “Hood, miraculously, was unscathed. Amid the wrecked guns and carnage he looked around. Nearly an entire Federal regiment, the 4th New Jersey, had been captured, and fourteen pieces of artillery were taken by his men. It was a sight and thrill he never forgot… . Above all else, Hood had gained new confidence… . He was a man transfigured.” Sword’s baseless declaration that Hood was thrilled at these horrendous sights is not only unfounded, it runs counter to eyewitness testimony. Major James W. Ratchford, a Confederate staff officer, left this account after the battle:
Early in the same night, while I was trying to gather up some of our division that had been scattered in the pursuit [of the Federals], I came upon General Hood sitting on a cracker box. As I approached, he looked up at me, and I could see tears streaming down his cheeks. His brigade had lost heavily, and all about him were the dead and wounded. I spoke to him and he replied brokenly, “Just look here Major, at all these dead and suffering men, and every one of them as good as I am, yet I am untouched.”17
The young general’s grief persisted into the next day. Chaplain Nicholas Davis recalled that Hood attended the next morning’s roll call and was appalled that only a fraction of the men were present. As their commander rode away weeping, Davis wrote that “there was not a soldier in that line but what thought more of him now than ever before.” And yet, without a credible source, Sword tried to convince his readers that Hood had witnessed “a sight and thrill he never forgot.”18
Elsewhere, Sword wrote about Hood’s attacks on Sherman outside Atlanta. “Hood’s recklessly aggressive use of his men clarified the aberration of Gaines’ Mill.” In an unforgivable insult to the hundreds of Hood’s Texans, South Carolinians, and Georgians who fell at Gaines’s Mill, Sword labeled their victorious attack (which was ordered by Lee, and not Hood) an “aberration”— in other words, a fluke.19
Regarding Hood’s role as a division commander at the Confederate victory at Chickamauga, Sword claimed that he had earned public adoration as a Southern war hero “despite the lack of important results in his new command responsibility.” This bewildering assertion is baseless, for Hood indeed had enjoyed success as a division leader. He also had earned stunning successes as a brigadier. At the head of his brigade, Hood played a decisive role in tactical victories at Eltham’s Landing, Gaines’s Mill, and Second Manassas in Virginia. In the new position to which Sword alludes—that of a division leader—Hood (as noted elsewhere) launched a sharp counterattack at Sharpsburg against heavily superior numbers that knocked back a powerful Federal attack collapsing Lee’s left flank. Soon afterward, Hood was promoted to major general by Stonewall Jackson, who wrote, “It gives me pleasure to say that [Hood’s] duties were discharged with such ability and zeal as to command my admiration. I regard him as one of the most promising officers of the Army.” Hood’s next division command was at Gettysburg, where he was wounded at the outset of the fighting. He returned to duty at Chickamauga, where his division played an instrumental role in the Confederate breakthrough around the Brotherton cabin, which began the rout of most of the Federal Army of the Cumberland. For his performance at Chickamauga, Hood was promoted to lieutenant general by his corps commander James Longstreet, who wrote, “I respectfully recommend Major General J. B. Hood for promotion to the rank of Lieutenant General, for distinguished conduct and ability in the battle of the 20th inst. General Hood handled his troops with the coolness and ability that I have rarely known by any officer, on any field.” How could any objective historian characterize Hood’s outstanding (and in some cases, extraordinary) performances at Gaines’s Mill, Second Manassas, Sharpsburg, and Chickamauga as unimportant?20
Sword utilized a letter Hood wrote to General Lee while serving in the Army of Northern Virginia in an attempt to persuade his readers that the young commander was overly ambitious and conniving even during the early years of his career. According to Sword, Hood wrote a letter “to his ‘friend’ Robert E. Lee, suggesting that smaller army corps might be desirable.” Sword added suggestively, “Perhaps Lee would favor Hood with such a command?” What Sword failed to inform his readers was that soon after receiving Hood’s letter regarding additional but smaller corps of infantry, Lee wrote to President Davis to suggest exactly what Hood had proposed. The letter from Hood to Lee cited by Sword was written on April 29, 1863. Just 11 days later on May 10, Lee wrote the following to Davis:
I have for the past year felt that the corps of this army were too large for one commander. Nothing prevented my proposing to you to reduce their size and increase their number but my inability to recommend commanders. Each corps contains, when in fighting condition, about 30,000 men. These are more than one man can properly handle and keep under his eye in battle in the country that we have to operate in. They are always beyond the range of his vision, and frequently beyond his reach.21
Readers might well question how Hood, the ignorant West Point underachiever who had attained battlefield successes only through dumb blind luck, could possibly have conceived an idea on his own that was also held by Robert E. Lee, who thought so much of the concept that he proposed it to the Confederate president in the hope of having it implemented. Sword also believed it was presumptuous and wholly inappropriate for Hood to sign a letter to Lee with “Your Friend.” Lee’s affectionate reply to Hood dated May 21, 1863—a transcript of which appears verbatim in Hood’s memoirs Advance and Retreat—was so personal that Lee wrote the letter in his own hand rather than dictate it to a staff member. The letter reads, in part: “Although separated from me, I have always had you in my eye and thoughts… . I rely upon you much. … I am much obliged to you always for your opinion.” Lee closed with, “Wishing you every health and happiness and committing you to the care of a Kind Providence, I am now and always your friend, R. E. Lee.” Sword is a skilled researcher. He surely read this letter in Hood’s Advance and Retreat. Selective disclosure of historical evidence leads readers to incorrectly conclude that Hood and Lee did not have a close personal relationship, and that Hood was simply angling for higher command while trying to ingratiate himself with Lee.22
Sword made the following claim in his book Courage Under Fire regarding Hood’s invasion of Tennessee: “Further, he knew that both his personal career and the fate of the army were at stake. His plight was as obvious as his uncertainty of what to do once he reached the enemy’s defenses.” Sword’s explicit statement that Hood “knew” his own career was at stake when he led his army north to liberate Tennessee was unsupported by any evidence. The claim that Hood didn’t know what to do or how to handle enemy defenses was a ludicrous comment considering Hood’s previous accomplishments at Gaines’s Mill and elsewhere.23
Sally Jenkins and John Stauffer described Hood as a “homicidal commander” in their book The State of Jones. While that is as extreme as it is utterly false, Sword arguably holds the dubious distinction of having made perhaps the most callous comment of any established wri
ter about a Civil War figure. Hood, he argued, was “a fool with a license to kill his own men.” This “fool” of a soldier “with a license to kill” was recommended for promotion to major general by Stonewall Jackson; he was recommended for promotion to lieutenant general by James Longstreet; he was recommended for promotion to full general by President Jefferson Davis, who later wrote in his memoirs, “If he had, by an impetuous attack, crushed Schofield’s army, without too great a loss to his own, and Forrest could have executed his orders to capture the trains when Schofield’s army was crushed, we should never have heard complaint because Hood attacked Franklin, and these were the hopes with which he made his assault.”24
Sword described the soldiers of the Army of Tennessee at Nashville as impotent and apathetic in their final battle in Tennessee, but blamed Hood for creating “a bedraggled army, sick and tired of being sacrificed in bizarre tactical efforts.” Sword claimed that the retreating Southern troops became “an army running away” from both the enemy and Hood, from whom they had endured “repeated abuse and sacrifice for no sensible purpose.” Sword disregards the 2,500 casualties inflicted on Thomas’s attacking Federals at Nashville, as well as the facts regarding all of Hood’s efforts as commander of the Army of Tennessee, as set forth elsewhere in this book.25
“Character,” wrote Sword in an attack upon Hood’s morality, “the ability to determine and do that which is morally right based upon logic, common sense, and education, may very well be life’s ultimate quality.” Sword’s homily applies equally well to writers and military commanders.26
The questioning of Hood’s personal character does not end with his surrender to Federal authorities in Natchez, Mississippi, on the last day of May 1865. Thomas Connelly wrote of Hood’s character and personality, citing, among other sources, Hood’s friends Mary Chesnut and Louise Wigfall Wright: “He was a simple man, often tactless and crude, more of a fighter than a general.” It is disappointing that Connelly extracted such a conclusion from anything recorded by Chesnut and Wright, who wrote extensively of their love and admiration for Hood. Connelly cherry-picked comments that could be misinterpreted and mischaracterized to appear critical of Hood, while concealing Chesnut’s and Wright’s repeated references to Hood’s integrity and character. Wright wrote of Hood’s bravery, patriotism, gallantry, nobility, and “blameless life.”27
John Bell Hood: The Rise, Fall, and Resurrection of a Confederate General Page 36
