Stonewall Goes West: A Novel of The Civil War and What Might Have Been (Stonewall Goes West Trilogy)

by Thomas, R. E.

  He inquired “But from the sound of it, that is for much later, yes?”

  “Yes, yes, it is neither here nor there. For now, the focus must be on Tennessee.”

  Davis was pleased, even enthusiastic about what he heard. Johnston would have backed away, skillfully to be sure, but still backed away from any fight until he had reached Florida, and then blamed the government for endangering his army, the loss of the entire southern heartland, and not providing him with transportation to Cuba. Davis was certain of that.

  Worse than Johnston, Davis thought, Longstreet wanted to put his entire army corps on mules for a raid into Kentucky, even though there were obviously not so many mules available in all of the Confederacy. Beauregard’s wild, vainglorious schemes scarcely deserved mention.

  Davis had taken his fill of plans that were defeatist or unrealistic. The man before him spoke of advancing northward, but tempered with some sense of the possible.

  “General Jackson, let us begin these labors forthwith. What can this office do to aid you, right here and right now?”

  Jackson had not been prepared for that. Taken aback for a moment, he considered his wants. “Well, Mr. President, I am taking my Valley staff with me to Georgia. Many of these men do not hold rank commensurate with their former duties in my corps, let alone the Army of Tennessee. My chief of staff is only a major, whereas I understand the job he is taking is currently occupied by a brigadier general. I have filed for promotions with the War Department...”

  Davis interjected “I will push that through. When your men report for duty in Georgia, they will all hold suitable rank.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. Another thing is that at least some of my key subordinates should be men I already know and can work with. I must have John Bell Hood. He is recuperating in Richmond now, I am told, and if he can mount a horse, I must have him.”

  Davis was glad to have a request he could grant so readily. He had been thinking of promoting Hood to corps command for months now, and the only vacancy was in Jackson’s soon-to-be army. As Jackson had just said, it was only a matter of how soon and by how much Hood would recuperate.

  “Done,” Davis said.

  The president continued discussing trivial bureaucratic matters with Jackson for some time, until Jackson finally grew impatient enough to ask that their meeting be adjourned until tomorrow, so that he might return to the War Department and make some requests before that office closed and the clerks went home.

  After working in the department’s offices at Mechanics Hall until well after dark, Jackson made a brisk nighttime stroll around the lovely, spacious green of Virginia’s Capitol, trying to shake off a day spent sitting down. He then walked to the Lee’s house on Franklin Street, let himself in and found his family and Mary Lee in the parlor.

  He motioned for them to stay where they were. “Please, don’t get up. I shall join you shortly.” He doffed his overcoat and his boots, and returned to the parlor, where he spent the remainder of the evening quietly reading from the Bible to his sleepy five year old daughter Julia, who sat on his lap. Anna and Mary chatted, Anna enthralled with Mary’s old family yarns about George Washington.

  When Mary decided to retire, Jackson and his wife put Julia to bed, and then went to bed themselves. It was only once they were alone together, and under the covers, that Anna said to him “We haven’t spoken of it, Tom, but do you want us to come to Georgia? We could find lodgings in Atlanta.”

  He smiled, and ran his fingers through her dark hair. “I have thought of that, but I am told that Atlanta has become a ... well, an unsuitable place. It is a factory town now, with rowdies and women of ill repute. I will not have our daughter brought up there, even if only for a year or two.”

  Jackson sighed. There would be no repeat of last year’s winter quarters, when he was free to spend so much time with his small family. In addition to his low opinion of Atlanta, he also expected that taking charge of the Army of Tennessee would prove such an enormous task that he would not have the time to see them, even if they were in Atlanta. His duty to the country came before his duty to his family, as his family was part of the country he sought to defend. The former merited his full attention, while the latter should not suffer the slight of inattention.

  “No, Lexington is our home. That is where we all belong. I will be there soon, Providence willing.”

  Resting her head on his chest, Anna asked “You will remember what you said to me? In Lexington?”

  Jackson lips twisted slightly, as he suppressed his annoyance. He had given his word, had he not? Of course he remembered.

  But she worried, and she meant well. “Yes. I will. Yes,” he reassured her, softly.

  During that long summer convalescence, Jackson had struggled hard with his wounding, and what it meant for his family and his duty to army and country.

  Leading that nighttime reconnaissance at Chancellorsville had been nothing but vanity and foolishness, Jackson had realized from his sick bed, vanity that had resulted in the deaths of several of the fine young men on his staff, and cost the army his leadership at a critical moment. The situation that night had been so disorganized and confused that A.P. Hill had gotten wounded in the legs shortly after replacing him. Finally, it had kept him from Gettysburg, where by all reports he would have been of much service.

  Jackson had concluded he had no business riding around between the lines in the dark, and should have instead focused on regrouping the elements of his corps. He deserved censure for his childish antics, and the praise that was heaped on him instead only made him feel guiltier about the whole business.

  Then there was his family. He might still be called to God during the war, that much he knew, just as he knew that if he was killed it would be the work of Providence. Even so, he wondered if his wounding wasn’t perhaps a sign that he should mend his ways, and he regretted the grief and worry it brought into his home. Julia was still too young to really understand, and Anna was too good to speak of it directly, but the pain was still there for them both all the same.

  So, without Anna asking, he told her that he had been mistaken to do what he did that night at Chancellorsville, and swore to avoid such foolhardiness in the future. It was a promise he repeated to Lee upon returning to duty with the Army of Northern Virginia, as Lee had long cautioned him about going too far forward.

  Still, he didn’t like being questioned about it. At Second Kettle Run, there hadn’t even been need for him to go forward, so he didn’t. He had learned his lesson, and that was that.

  December 18

  Late morning

  St. Paul’s Episcopal Church

  Richmond

  Sandie Pendleton stood by the altar, waiting for the last guests to file through the church doors and to find their places. He was utterly serene, without even a hint of the wedding jitters. Everything has gone well, everything will go just fine, he thought. And if it does not, I don’t need to worry a whit about it.

  He glanced over at his groomsmen. There was Dr. Hunter McGuire, Jackson’s medical director and personal physician, and Captain James Power Smith, Jackson’s chief aide-de-camp. Both were good friends and close colleagues, and he would put his life in either man’s hands without a second thought. There was also Colonel Edward Willis, a former member of Jackson’s staff and now commander of the 12th Georgia Infantry; Sanide’s cousin Dudley Pendleton; and Kate’s cousin, Jack Wellford. All good men, so if anything was less than perfect, he could count on them to take care of it.

  Sandie then glanced over his shoulder, up at the altar. There stood his own father, who looked oddly fidgety, whereas his son was calm and composed. Dear old Papa, Sandie thought. He isn’t this nervous going into battle.

  William Pendleton was not just an Episcopal priest, but also Lee’s chief of artillery. St. Paul’s own Reverend Charles Minniegerode had graciously stepped aside so “Parson” Pendleton could preside over the wedding of his own son.

  Another thing lending Sandie compl
ete confidence that everything would be wonderful was the smoothness with which his wedding plans had come together. First was the intervention of Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis, both parishioners, in securing the use of the leading church of Richmond, St. Paul’s. It was a stately example of the Greek Revival style, the red upholstery of the ornate pews vividly contrasting with the stained glass and the brilliant, austere white walls and ceiling. Adjoining the state capitol’s green, its exterior was just as lovely.

  Aside from providing a beautiful setting, St. Paul’s was also one of the largest churches in the Old Dominion, and that quickly became an important issue in the planning. The wedding of Sandie Pendleton and Kate Corbin immediately became Richmond’s most prominent social event preceding Christmas. This was because all of Richmond’s upper crust knew that the reclusive Stonewall Jackson would attend. Receiving a wedding invitation, and with it a chance to meet the great man, immediately became the most desired ticket in town.

  Sandie smiled at the thought. Old Jack had politely, but firmly turned down every invitation to dinner that came to him from any stranger, no matter how highly placed. As he put it, he had enough to attend to with friends, family and his duties, and any spare time he had saved went to Sunday and the dour Presbyterian services that Richmond’s high society regarded as unfashionable.

  From the start, Sandie had realized the invitation list might pose a problem. Kate came from a prominent Fredericksburg clan, but Sandie was pleased when she resisted the temptation to allow well-heeled gawkers onto the invitation list, and that without the slightest prodding from him. The wedding plans had proceeded on sensible lines and with no discord, and as far as Sandie was concerned, that was as good a start into married life as a man could ask for.

  Finally, Sandie had the self-assurance of a man who had just been promoted two steps to full colonel, and was set to assume the administration of the country’s second largest army at the age of 23. With the arrival of the last few guests, he stood relaxed, but at attention, and waited calmly for his bride to walk in through the church doors.

  Observing his young protégé from his seat in the last few pews, Jackson beamed with pride. In his mind, Sandie was not so much the son he had always wanted, but more like a cherished nephew.

  People were whispering, gossiping around and over Jackson, annoying him. Catching snatches, he discerned it was over why he and his family had chosen to sit in the back. They had been offered a place in the front, and it was Anna who declined, fearing Jackson’s propensity to fall asleep and snore loudly in the middle of religious services. Jackson preferred to sit in the back for that very reason as well, and had made no protest.

  Jackson turned his thoughts away from Kate Corbin’s gossipy kin and towards Sandie’s guests, who were mostly military in nature. Lee himself had been unable to attend, Jackson noted with some sadness. He already missed the grand old man.

  Still, he was pleased that Lee had released many familiar faces from his old corps. Old Baldy Ewell and Allegheny Johnson were there, as were some of his staff officers, such as commissary officer Wells Hawks, the mapmaker Jed Hotchkiss, and the foul-mouthed, mule-driving quartermaster, John Harman. These men were counted among Sandie’s friends, but were much older and therefore not close enough to join the groomsmen. They thought highly enough of Sandie to postpone their journeys home on leave for his wedding.

  Pausing on Hotchkiss, Jackson’s sadness at losing such a talented and valuable man returned, for Hotchkiss and his skills would remain in Virginia with Lee. When all of them met at the church earlier that morning, together again for what they all knew would be the last time, the happy day took on the air of a teary farewell.

  Also present were some of Jackson’s former staffers. He could see Sandie’s predecessor as chief of staff, the preacher Robert Dabney, and there was Congressman Alexander Boteler was well.

  Finally, he could see General John Bell Hood. With an arm mangled at Gettysburg, his right leg lost at Chickamauga and that stump only partly healed, the sad-eyed, tall, leonine Kentuckian needed to be carried into St. Paul’s on a litter. Jackson thought Sam, as Hood’s intimates knew him, had the look of a man determined to not just endure, but to stubbornly enjoy himself.

  Most would assume Hood’s severe countenance reflected pain from his injuries, but Jackson thought knew the truth. Davis had told him that Hood had been courting a vivacious socialite by the name of Sally Preston for months, and had been having a hard time of it. Jackson was sure Hood would have invited her to the wedding, and since she was not on the guest list, it meant Hood’s overture had been rejected.

  Jackson’s ponderings on Hood were interrupted by the arrival of Kate Corbin, led by her father. A beautiful young woman, Jackson thought. He knew her well from the previous winter, when his headquarters was encamped at Moss Neck, the Corbin family’s estate. That war should bring these two together, Jackson thought, was just another facet of God’s plan.

  Anna whispered into his ear “Don’t you dare fall asleep, Thomas J. Jackson. Don’t you dare.” Jackson grunted his assent, but the pew was far too comfortable for Jackson’s taste, used as he was to bare wood, and he struggled through the entire wedding to stay awake. It was only with some discrete, firm elbowing from Anna that kept him from dozing off. So he watched dutifully, albeit drowsily.

  After the couple was pronounced man and wife and the procession left the church, Jackson practically leapt from his seat and out onto the aisle. He could see Hood was still seated towards the front of the church, chatting with Alleghany Johnson. Probably waiting for the orderlies to come and help him back onto his litter, Jackson thought.

  Jackson said quietly “Anna, there is a man I must speak to. I promise I won’t be long. Go on out front, and I’ll be along.” He squeezed her hand, let it go, and strode off to see Hood.

  The three generals exchanged salutes, and seeing Jackson wanted to speak with Hood, Johnson made his goodbyes.

  “General Jackson, sir,” Hood grinned. “Congratulations on your promotion! No man in our Confederacy deserves the honor more.”

  Jackson nodded and replied tersely “Yes, yes, thank you. Sam, we won’t have long here before we are disturbed, so I must be brief. How are you coming along? Do you believe you will recover and return to duty?”

  Hood’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Yessir, I will. Don’t mind this litter, sir. You know how it is. I am healing. Nature is taking her sweet time, but I am healing. The boys from my old Texas Brigade bought me a cork leg, and as soon as my stump quits being so tender, I’ll be up and around.”

  “Good, good” replied Jackson. “I’ve had words with the President. As soon as you are mended, you are to be made Lieutenant General and posted to Georgia, serving under me and leading an army corps.”

  “General Jackson,” Hood replied enthusiastically, “if you will permit me, that would be the crowning honor of my service in this war.” He also thought the promotion might help his suit with the fickle Sally Preston, as it would make him the youngest of the Confederacy’s top generals. Truly a man with prospects, fame, and a bright future.

  Jackson nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hood’s orderlies approach, bearing Hood’s litter. “Now Sam, later I shall need to call on you. You have some experience with the western army, and I should very much like to hear what you have to say about it.”

  Hood agreed, and then asked “General Jackson, do you remember a couple of years ago, when you asked me if I thought I’d survive the war?”

  Jackson took on a grim countenance. “You said you expected to be badly shattered.”

  “And you said you would die before then. Well, it looks like we were only two-thirds right, wouldn’t you say?” Hood said, dark, bitter humor in his voice, just before seeing a group of well-wishers coming up behind Jackson.

  “No,” Jackson replied flatly, as the man at the front of the group came up and asked to shake his hand. Ignoring him, Jackson met Hood’s eyes, and said “Th
is war is not yet finished with us.”

  Jackson said his goodbyes to Hood, and drew the group of gawking well-wishers to the front of the church with him for just a few minutes of idle chatter. He loathed it, but doing so gave the broken Hood some privacy for the unpleasant business of being placed onto his litter.

  Finally free to go outside, Jackson joined his family to see off the newlyweds. As he watched the Pendletons depart by carriage for the train to their honeymoon with Sandie’s family in Lexington, Virginia, he was gladdened the War Department had forced him to stay in Richmond for consultations until the day after Christmas, to have this precious time with his wife and daughter. For whatever time he had, he felt grateful, despite also feeling it was not nearly enough.

  PART II

  THE WINTER DOLDRUMS

  FEBRUARY TO EARLY MAY 1864

  CHAPTER 4

  February 13, 1864

  Dawn

  Sherman’s Quarters, Army of the Tennessee, USA

  Decatur Crossroads, Mississippi

  Sherman awoke, blinking his eyes, pressing sleep from of his mind. That was shooting, he thought. Pistol shots.

  By the time Sherman had his trousers on, he heard the telltale thump of a shotgun, fired from some distance away. Now he knew. Not a single man in a blue uniform on this side of the Mississippi carried a shotgun. Whatever was going on out there, it meant Rebels, most likely cavalry.

  Sherman was pulling on his shoes by the time one of his aides burst into the bedroom of the rough-hewn, two-room cabin where he had spent the night. The aide, a fresh-faced young major, paused at the sight of William Tecumseh Sherman, almost fully dressed.

  Sherman asked calmly “Report, Major Audenried? What the devil is going on out there?”