However, Grant reckoned without the weather. Thanks to the inundated countryside, at dawn on February 8 he found himself “perfectly locked in by high water and bad roads.”121 Time was now his enemy as much as the Confederates. “I intend to keep the ball moving as lively as possible,” he wrote his sister Mary, and had something of a premonition that he would succeed.122 What he took for a presentiment was really the optimism that defined so much of his life. He planned well, he executed his plans well, he acted quickly and allowed himself and his subordinate commanders latitude to cope with the unexpected. In fact, the only serious hazard to Grant at the moment came from behind his own lines. Having been forced reluctantly to authorize an offensive, Halleck now rushed to assume credit for the success. His telegrams to McClellan conspicuously omitted Grant’s name, saying rather that “I will take Fort Henry” and even that “I will threaten Nashville.” When he told McClellan that the Fort Henry bombardment had commenced, he mentioned neither Grant nor Foote.123 After the surrender Halleck triumphantly wired that “Fort Henry is ours.” Not a word about Grant and Foote. The clear message was that Halleck himself had managed the whole affair, and was now handling the move to take the other fort.
Halleck had wanted to replace Grant with Ethan Allen Hitchcock since late January, though Hitchcock was not even in the army yet.124 The very day of Fort Henry’s fall, Halleck reiterated the request to McClellan, and made the proposal two days later directly to the secretary of war.125 He had eight brigadiers whose commissions all bore the same May 17 date, including Grant, McClernand, and William T. Sherman, which did create potential for command conflict since none was senior to another. But then Halleck embroidered by adding that he found “each unwilling to serve under the other.” That would soon apply to McClernand, but was a fabrication where Grant and Sherman and others were concerned. If another major general were sent to the department, that would give Halleck a senior officer who could assume command immediately anywhere by virtue of rank. Hitchcock was an inexplicable choice, a sixty-three-year-old officer who graduated from West Point before all but two of Halleck’s brigadiers were born. Yet Halleck wanted him to take over the “Tennessee line” immediately.126 He also wanted Grant’s district expanded to include west Tennessee and designated the “Department of the Mississippi.” If he could not have Hitchcock, then he wanted Sherman promoted to supersede Grant.127
It was an amazing request. At the very moment of one victory and poised for another to follow, Halleck wanted to replace the general who to date had more command experience than any of his other brigadiers. He gave no explanation, but two present themselves. One is that Halleck gave some credence to Kountz’s charges and rightly feared that Grant could compromise his gains thus far. The other, and far more likely given Halleck’s personality, is that he was jealous of Grant’s modest successes and feared being overshadowed, something evident in his virtual omission of Grant’s name from his correspondence immediately after Fort Henry’s fall.
Unaware of the menace behind his lines, Grant felt secure in trying the Fort Henry template on Fort Donelson, with variations. On February 10 he ordered the gunboats to steam back down the Tennessee to Paducah, then up the Cumberland to take on the water batteries at Fort Donelson, while he marched his men across the strip of land separating the rivers and attacked the fort from the rear. “There should be no delay in this matter,” he advised Foote as he anxiously awaited word of progress.128 Meanwhile, he assembled his senior officers in conference that afternoon, Grant’s first “council of war” in the field, and though what they discussed is unknown, almost certainly he outlined his plan for them. If he opened discussion to suggestions from others he had good reason. The night before, McClernand sent him a lengthy and overly detailed proposal for an advance on the fort, though it stopped at the point that units were to go into line facing the Confederates without proposing any tactics. Significantly, it involved only McClernand’s division, it being implicit that he would conduct the fight without Smith.
Grant made no written response to McClernand.129 Still, when he issued his own marching orders the next day, he incorporated McClernand’s basic suggestions. He sent one brigade by the most direct road with orders to halt and form a line two miles from the fort. At the same time the other two brigades would take a southerly road leading to Dover to halt and throw out a line two miles from the village, connecting with the other brigade on their left. Grant then fleshed out the plan by ordering Smith’s division to follow immediately behind on the Dover road, and if possible occupy Dover itself and cut off any chance of the Confederate garrison escaping by the river. That was all. Using the two roads simultaneously gave them the best chance of forces converging on the fort and Dover nearly at the same time. Grant did not expect surprise, assuming that the enemy expected him. What he did not know was enemy strength, and thus informed his generals that “it is impossible to give exact details of attack.” Those he would decide on the field.130 That evening he wrote to Julia and warned her that “quite an engagement may be expected,” hinting that the campaign might continue beyond Donelson, which could only mean a move toward Nashville. He always thought one move ahead.131
The first of the gunboats left Cairo that evening, and Grant asked its commander to fire a few shells at Fort Donelson when he came within range to announce his arrival. Grant started the infantry at eight on the morning of February 12 on an easy march. Shortly before noon he heard the gunboat’s guns to the east, and pressed on to within three or four miles of his objective when he met Confederate outposts on the Dover road. Grant left it to McClernand to handle them, and by three that afternoon the rebels pulled back into their lines. Meanwhile, Grant made headquarters in a cabin just off the road used by Smith about a mile west of the Confederates’ outer works, as his first brigades took position; McClernand on the right from the river just upstream of Dover around to the west, while Smith’s two brigades extended the line to the left facing Fort Donelson itself. Grant ordered them into line of battle, and when skirmishing began McClernand drove the rebels back into their main works, extending his own line to his right to cover the Forge Road, the only Confederate land route to Nashville. Grant inspected the line around dusk and found all well. He had Dover and the fort isolated from reinforcement or escape. Swollen creeks covered his flanks, and his only real concern was that McClernand was stretched so thin he could not entirely cover a gap between his left and Smith’s right. He could chance that, since any Confederate thrust in that direction risked being caught from two sides as McClernand and Smith responded.
February 13 brought Grant’s first real experience at battlefield management, and like most new commanders he did not have a sure feel right away. He probably spent most of the day at his headquarters keeping a steady stream of orders going out.132 He told Smith to probe the enemy earthworks at eight in the morning, to get a sense of their numbers and artillery positions. The demonstration escalated out of control before Smith was forced to retire, but still Grant learned that the Confederate right flank was well defended. He so informed McClernand, who perhaps interpreted it as a suggestion for him to advance on his own front, though he did so without Grant’s knowledge. Fifteen minutes later the foe repulsed him, too, and Grant was not happy, though he may not have said anything to McClernand at the time. Increasingly, the Illinois politician showed a penchant for acting on his own in hopes of winning personal glory.133
That night Grant learned that 4,000 soldiers commanded by Lee’s troublesome General John B. Floyd had arrived at Dover earlier that day. As senior, Floyd now commanded, seconded by Pillow and Grant’s old friend Simon Bolivar Buckner, and Grant feared that his arrival boosted the Donelson garrison to more than 20,000. Moreover, the Confederates sat behind earthworks erected in depth over many months, and his probes revealed the strength of those works. Fortunately, word came from Foote that the gunboats would arrive in the morning. Buoyed by that, Grant concluded to commence a combined naval bombardment and infantry assault
at ten o’clock on Valentine’s Day morning, the infantry to pin the rebels down while Foote bombarded them into submission.134 Before bed he just had time to write to Julia that he still expected to take the fort and garrison, but figured it would take him until February 16 to accomplish.135
That night the weather turned vicious, and amid snow and freezing rain the temperature plummeted to 12 degrees by Grant’s estimate.136 It had been so warm during the march from Fort Henry that the inexperienced volunteers dropped blankets and overcoats along the way, which Grant did not see from the head of the column. As a result his men passed a miserable night huddled around fires to avoid freezing. Yet come morning Grant felt confidant despite believing himself outnumbered.137 When another division commanded by Brigadier General Lew Wallace arrived, Grant placed it in the gap in his center. More regiments arrived during the night on the gunboats, and at nine that morning Grant rode to Foote’s landing with a guide to take them to the field.138 With a fight imminent, he concentrated every man. Foote expressed uneasiness at sending his gunboats against the Confederate water batteries, but Grant persuaded him that he could knock out the enemy guns handily, and Foote reluctantly agreed to go ahead. Grant thereby defeated one of a commander’s greatest foes: his subordinates’ second thoughts on the eve of battle.
Foote appeared at the bend below the water batteries at two-thirty that afternoon, and Grant perched on the bluff beyond his left flank to watch the gunboats’ approach, only to see deadly fire from the batteries put one after another out of action. Through it all Grant watched helplessly. It took scarcely a hundred men to man the water batteries, and even if he launched a diversionary assault on the Confederate defenses it would not pull them away from their guns’ deadly work. There was nothing he could do. He had simply misjudged the power of those batteries.139 Still, that night he could write that “I feel confidant of ultimate success.”140
The next morning he went to Foote’s anchorage and rowed out to the flagship to see how long it would take to get the fleet back in action, then on returning to shore he met an excited Hillyer bringing news that the Confederates had attacked McClernand and were driving him. Grant was far enough away not to hear the sound of the action opening. The Rebels were trying to break out. If they gained the Forge road they had a highway to Nashville and Bowling Green. Grant galloped back to his army, finding Smith’s division in good order, and Wallace in position in the center. On the right flank he found near chaos. As many as 10,000 Confederates had slammed into McClernand at six that morning and kept up the pressure as the Federals withdrew, many out of ammunition and some in panic. Grant found them at one in the afternoon standing about in groups with little or no formation, demoralized. Beyond them the Forge road was open, but in a bizarre twist, the Confederates pulled back to their defenses to pack their equipment and prepare for the march to Nashville. Grant quickly realized three things: he could retake the Forge road easily and keep the enemy trapped; to mass enough power to attack his right, they must have weakened their line in front of Smith; he had to react quickly if only for morale, telling Foote “I must order a charge to save appearances.” If Smith attacked now he might push into Fort Donelson, Grant told Foote, and if just a few gunboats appeared at the same time, “it may secure us a Victory.”141
Grant galloped to Smith and ordered an immediate advance that captured the original rebel defensive line, while on the right Wallace and McClernand reorganized and advanced. By dark they held the Forge road again as McClernand reoccupied most of his original position. The Confederate army was back in its trap, its force spent in the botched breakout. That night Floyd, Pillow, and Buckner concluded that another breakout was doomed to failure, and their only options were surrender or starvation in a siege. Floyd and Pillow ignominiously abandoned the command to Buckner, and just before dawn the next morning, Smith handed Grant a message from Buckner proposing an armistice for commissioners to discuss surrender terms. No Confederate army had as yet surrendered. When Beauregard took Fort Sumter he allowed the garrison to go home with banners flying and shouldered arms. Otherwise there was no template to guide Grant, so he set the mold, and he probably had terms in mind already. He sat down to write three simple sentences, asking Smith to read them, and sent them to Buckner. There would be no armistice, no commissioners. “No terms except an unconditional and immediate surrender can be accepted,” he said. “I propose to move immediately upon your works.”142
The accidental “S” in his name finally meant something. He was about to become “Unconditional Surrender Grant.”
8
SHILOH AND SEVENS
“I HAVE BEEN called here very unexpectedly to me & have today been placed in duty at this place under the directions of the Pres.,” Lee wrote his brother Carter a week after arriving in Richmond. He came resolved to do anything for “the noble cause we are engaged in,” but at least professed to crave a humble post in the field, fearing “I shall be able to do little in the position assigned me.”1 He went into conference with the president immediately on arriving, with barely time to visit Mary for the first time in a year, pleased to see her looking in better health than he expected.2 It had been a season of disasters—Forts Henry and Donelson, the evacuation of Nashville soon afterward, the collapse of the whole west Tennessee line—and press and Congress demanded change. Davis would soon replace the unpopular Secretary of War Benjamin, and was himself engaged in a feud with P. G. T. Beauregard, while Joseph E. Johnston was proving impossible to control in northern Virginia.
To curb Davis’s power, Congress created the office of general-in-chief, and many expected the president to hand Lee the portfolio. Instead, Davis assigned him to “conduct of military operations in the armies of the Confederacy,” general-in-chief in essence but not in fact, for the position came with the clause “under the direction of the President,” the reason Lee felt he could accomplish little.3 Davis was his own general-in-chief and after appointing Lee he vetoed Congress’s bill. He needed an appearance of change to quiet his foes. Lee was perfect. If he had no victories, neither had he defeats, and he was still widely respected. Response was mixed. The Richmond Whig said Lee’s assignment “has revived confidence,” but a week later retreated to saying he was the best qualified but “may not be a Carnot.”4 The Charleston Mercury praised faintly, “If he makes no advances, neither does the enemy. If he is not rapid and daring, he is energetic, and has forecast.” Everyone realized Davis would still be in charge, and Lee was but an advisor.5 The Richmond Examiner dripped sarcasm when it observed that “it is not known whether this important distinction has been conferred upon General Lee for his brilliant services in Western Virginia or his memorable defence of Alex[a]ndria.”6
Lee understood his position and told Mary that “I do not see either advantage or pleasure in my duties,” yet resigned himself to “do my best.”7 Once more he had to deal with governors unhappy that the president did not make generals of their favorites, or jealously hoarding new rifles in their state arsenals while soldiers in the field made do with old and worn-out arms.8 Meanwhile, he familiarized himself with the war on all fronts. Joseph E. Johnston had pulled back from the Manassas line to the Rappahannock River. Forces that previously drubbed the Yankees at Big Bethel now dug in at Yorktown to protect Richmond from approach via the York-James Rivers peninsula. In western Virginia Confederates still guarded the approaches to Staunton and the Shenandoah Valley, while in the valley itself Major General Thomas J. Jackson, now dubbed “Stonewall,” kept a watch. In the West Confederates held northern Arkansas, but the Yankees threatened Albert Sidney Johnston’s army concentrating at Corinth, Mississippi, after leaving Nashville in the wake of Henry-Donelson. Charleston and Savannah were secure, but the enemy made continual inroads, and every Carolinian wanted to be a general, it seemed, and objected if Davis promoted anyone else first. Lee’s advice to those so displeased was that if they thought themselves more qualified than others, then they must demonstrate their deserts “by increased dili
gence & zeal,” an admonition that pleased no one.9
Lee quickly found himself in an awkward position with a general closer to home, Joseph E. Johnston. Davis’s strategic policy was to hold every point. Lee knew that to be impossible, yet he had to reiterate that stance to Johnston, while on a tactical level he could give no orders without stepping on his prickly old friend’s toes. Instead, he made recommendations couched in terms of “I request” and “I suggest.”10 At the same time, Lee had no idea if Johnston planned to fall back farther, as indeed he did, because that general consistently refused to communicate. When Lee hinted to Johnston to share his plans for defense, Johnston chose not to take the hint.11
Then the Virginia front exploded. General-in-Chief McClellan, setting aside his larger responsibilities, led the Army of the Potomac on a well-conceived shift from northern Virginia, via the Chesapeake, to Fort Monroe, which he would use as a base to campaign up the peninsula to Richmond less than 120 miles northwest. He achieved almost complete surprise. Lee wanted to go to the North Carolina coast after Federals took New Bern on March 14, but Davis did not give permission until March 23.12 The next morning came the first sightings of a fleet of enemy transports disgorging soldiers at Fort Monroe. Lee believed that a major landing had taken place, and that either Norfolk or Richmond was the target, perhaps both. In the resulting consultation with Johnston over what could be done, Lee was reduced to being a mere conduit conveying messages back and forth between Davis and the general.13 In the ensuing weeks he proved just as unsuccessful gaining cooperation from Johnston as the president, and meanwhile McClellan commenced a buildup to more than 100,000 soldiers. Johnston wanted a complete concentration on the peninsula, in spite of Davis’s orders to protect the Rappahannock line as well, and eventually that is what he did without bothering to notify either Davis or Lee. Meanwhile, Lee coordinated the peninsula commands of Generals John B. Magruder and Benjamin Huger, on what appeared to be his own authority.14
Crucible of Command Page 24
