Grant Comes East - Civil War 02

by Newt Gingrich; William Forstchen

  "We bloodied them. Two divisions, Perrin and Pettigrew, were all but destroyed. It was a major defeat for Lee and his men."

  "That's what I heard."

  "We have some reports that Jefferson Davis is in their camp."

  "I heard that as well, sir."

  "If he's there, I think that means he will renew the attack." Grant said nothing, making no comment about Stanton's observation.

  "We are getting stronger pretty fast," Stanton continued. "All of Strong's brigade is up from Charleston. Two more brigades are slated to arrive today, along with some additional units out of Philadelphia and several ninety-day regiments that were mustering in New Jersey. I hope the rebels do try it again."

  "I don't think they will," Grant ventured.

  "Why?"

  "If Lee failed in his first assault, and did so with the casualties you are reporting, I cannot see him trying the exact same attack again. One attempt against a fortified position might be justified, but a second one on the heels of a failed attack would be folly. And Lee is not given to folly."

  "Are you certain of that?"

  "No one can ever be certain in war, but it's what I would do and I think Lee is a professional who avoids self-destructive mistakes."

  "Suppose Davis orders another attack? He obviously came north to be here and gloat over their final victory. I cannot see him turning away from us now. The political repercussions would be significant."

  "I think, sir, that General Lee would resist any such order. In spite of their victories of the last month they cannot afford any more serious losses. If he takes Washington but drains his army's manpower, it will be an even worse defeat in the end."

  "And you are certain of that?"

  Again Grant shook his head, knowing right here at the start that Stanton was trying to force him into a commitment to his own vision of what would come next.

  "And again, sir, nothing is certain in war."

  Stanton coughed noisily and then looked over sharply at the cigar in Grant's hand.

  There was an ashtray at the comer of the desk and he put it out.

  "Do you know why I summoned you here?" Stanton asked.

  "I would assume, sir, to review the plans of the forthcoming campaign."

  "Yes, General. Since your appointment to field command of all armies, I have not the slightest inkling of what your intentions are."

  "Sir, I thought it best not to entrust such delicate information to either the telegraph or dispatches. I was going to prepare a full report for you once I was in Harrisburg."

  "Why Harrisburg?"

  "Sir, I plan to make that the base of my operations." Stanton coughed again and then poured another cup of tea. "You did not get my approval for making that your headquarters."

  "I know that, sir."

  Haupt stirred uncomfortably by Grant's side and Stanton looked over at him. "What is it, Haupt?"

  "Sir, Harrisburg is an ideal location to constitute a new field army. Its rail connections are some of the best in the North. It offers easy access not only to upstate New York and New England, but to the Midwest as well. We will have to run literally thousands of trains in the next month in order to create this force, and I suggested Harrisburg almost immediately as the place to marshal. Besides, though not a field commander, I think it evident that by organizing at Harrisburg, we maintain a potent position to strike into the rear of Lee's lines of communication, thus ultimately forcing him to battle."

  "Thank you for that analysis, Haupt, but there is another consideration that carries far more weight, and that is the political consideration of maintaining Washington no matter what the cost."

  "Mr. Secretary," Grant interjected, glad that Haupt had offered a moment's diversion with a very pointed and cogent argument, "I think it is fair to state that Washington is secure now."

  "Are you certain, General Grant? We've had reports that a massive Confederate column, maybe upwards of fifty thousand strong, is already marshaling in Richmond; advance elements even now are moving into the Shenandoah Valley, coming up to reinforce Lee or to act as an independent striking force."

  "And who commands this?"

  "Our agents report it is Beauregard."

  Grant said nothing. He had faced Beauregard once before, at Shiloh, and did not hold him in the high regard that others did.

  "I would think they are destined to merge with Lee's forces," he finally offered in reply.

  "Whether with Lee or not, such a force could very well tip the scale and take the capital."

  "I would not place this new force in the same caliber as the Army of Northern Virginia. They are scraping the bottom of the barrel. Chances are many of the units are state militias, about as useful as our ninety-day regiments. It could take them weeks, a month or more, before their numbers will even be noticed."

  "Sir," Haupt said, pressing back in to the conversation. "The Confederate railroad system is a shambles. Several different gauges on their lines hinder any transfers when moving long distances. They have to stop and transfer men and equipment between trains every time they encounter a new gauge. Last winter, when the Army of Northern Virginia was encamped in front of Fredericksburg, they could barely move half a dozen supply trains a day, forcing Lee to scatter his forces across hundreds of square miles for forage. The task of moving that number of men north, if that is indeed the number, will strain them to the breaking point."

  "The number is valid," Stanton snapped.

  "As reported by whom?" Grant asked.

  "I've sent Pinkerton agents into Virginia."

  Again Grant did not reply. Some of the agents were good, obviously the one who had sent the message to him about Davis was doing his job, but most of them were amateurs when it came to doing field reconnaissance. It was similar reports, early in 1862, claiming the rebels had two hundred thousand in front of Richmond, that had crippled McClellan. In his own mind, he cut the numbers in half. At most Lee would get twenty-five thousand.

  "I think, General Grant, that you should stay in Washington, establish your headquarters here, and make this your main base of operations. Sickles, up on the banks of the Susquehanna, is even now reorganizing the Army of the Potomac. Between your force and his, Lee can be trapped."

  "Sickles? Dan Sickles?"

  "Yes, Dan Sickles. I signed the order this afternoon promoting him to command of the Army of the Potomac."

  He felt his face flush at this news.

  "Sir, as commander of all forces in the field, I feel I should have been consulted on this."

  "General Grant, you've been incommunicado ever since this debacle unfolded. I was forced to act and act I did."

  Before I could countermand it, Grant thought

  "Why General Sickles?" he finally asked.

  "I don't like him any more than you do, Grant," Stanton replied. "But he has powerful friends in Congress. We need the continued support of the Democratic Party and he is firmly in their camp and now their hero of the hour. His after-action report for Gettysburg and for Union Mills has been printed up and circulated, even the newspapers have it."

  "I've yet to see this report, who was it forwarded to?" Grant asked.

  "It came straight to me. With Meade dead, he had the excuse to bypass proper channels. Copies were leaked as well. I do have to admit mat the man had a point about Gettysburg. If Meade had allowed him to go forward on July 2, he would have plowed straight into Lee's flanking march and perhaps destroyed it. He argued as well that if he had been allowed to march to the support of Fifth Corps in front of Taneytown, rather than ordered to proceed to Union Mills, he could have turned Lee's left flank and forced the rebels to withdraw. It's causing an uproar. He was scheduled to appear before the Committee on the Conduct of the War to testify."

  "But if he was appointed to command of the Army of the Potomac that hearing would be canceled?" Haupt asked.

  That ploy was something he had never considered, and Grant shook his head. Yet again, the political maneuverings. Comman
d in the East was clearly much more political and complex than command in the West Distance from Washington might have been a bigger advantage than he had thought.

  "Yes, something like that He won't have time to testify now.

  "Besides, he suppressed the rebellion in New York City and even the Republican papers are hailing him as the savior of the city."

  Grant looked at the crushed cigar in the ashtray, wishing he could relight it.

  "You are stuck with him, Grant" Stanton said.

  "But nevertheless he will still answer to my orders," Grant said softly.

  "In proper coordination with this office," Stanton replied.

  Even though Grant's thinking rarely turned to outright guile, he could see that Stanton was trying to outmaneuver and box him in. He wondered if perhaps his old foe, Halleck, licking the wounds of public humiliation at his dismissal from supreme command, was even now lurking in a room down the hallway, waiting to rush in once this meeting was over.

  The doorway opened and he almost cried out with relief. Elihu was there with President Lincoln behind him.

  Obviously a bit flustered, Stanton stood up as Lincoln came in. His features were pale, eyes deep-set with exhaustion, black coat rumpled as if he had been sleeping in it, trousers stained with mud.

  "Mr. President, General Grant and I were just discussing the forthcoming campaign."

  "Yes, I can well imagine," Lincoln said.

  He looked over at Grant and a genuine smile wrinkled his face.

  "General, so good to see you," and he extended his hand.

  His contacts with Lincoln, up to this moment, had been only remote. He had never stood like this, so close, almost a sense of the two of them being alone. He looked straight into the man's eyes and liked what he saw. Homey, down-to-earth, the prairie lawyer without pretense.

  The handshake was firm, strong, with a touch of an affectionate squeeze just before he let go.

  The colonel in the outer office came in, dragging two straight-backed chairs, hurriedly deployed them, and left, closing the door.

  Lincoln went to the window and looked out. Dawn was breaking, wisps of fog curling up, the sky overhead visible now with streaks of pink and light blue.

  "A long night, gentlemen," Lincoln said, and then turned back, "but hopefully a better day now. General Grant, I'm delighted to see you at last"

  "I am honored to be here, sir."

  'Tell me of Vicksburg and your journey to here. I need to hear some good news for a few minutes."

  Grant briefly reviewed the climax of the campaign and his hurried journey east, Lincoln smiling and nodding as if all other cares had disappeared for the moment.

  "Remarkable, when you think of it gentlemen. When I first came to Washington almost twenty years ago, the trip took weeks. When I was a boy, my trip to New Orleans, traveling with a raft of cantankerous hogs, took well over a month. And now we can all but leap across the country in a matter of days."

  "After this war is over, sir," Haupt said proudly, "we'll go from Chicago to San Francisco in less than a week."

  'Think of it," Lincoln said with a smile. "I read in Scientific American just a few weeks back how some tinkerers are talking about balloons powered by steam engines that will traverse the skies, perhaps even crossing to England in a matter of days. I would love to see that."

  Stanton coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  "Our good secretary is reminding us, gentlemen, that we must deal with business before we can play with our dreams. Is your health well this morning, Mr. Secretary?"

  "No, sir. The cursed asthma again."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, but yes, down to business."

  "Mr. President, I was just discussing with General Grant our wish that he establish his headquarters and operational base here in Washington. It will serve to defend our capital, but also has a logic in terms of logistics, with our superior water transport moving the men and equipment he might desire."

  Lincoln nodded thoughtfully, crossing his legs to reveal a pale white shin, his sock having slid down to pile up atop his shoe.

  "And, General Grant, your opinion on this? I should add that though the secretary speaks in the plural with his statement as to 'our' wishes, I will admit to not having discussed this with him yet at length."

  Stanton bristled slightly and Grant saw the interplay between the two, and the opening Lincoln was providing him.

  "Sir. I think Harrisburg is the better choice."

  "Enlighten me."

  He presented his argument in a concise, clear manner, both in terms of the plan he was formulating and the logistic issues, which Haupt weighed in on. Concluding his presentation, which took no more than five minutes, he fell silent.

  "I think, sir, that establishing the base in Harrisburg would be redundant," Stanton replied sharply. "We already have Sickles north of the Susquehanna. It would divert from him resources and rolling stock needed for his own efforts."

  "I thought all efforts were for the same goal," Lincoln said softly, looking back out the window.

  "A renewed Army of the Potomac, a hundred thousand strong, coming down out of the north," Stanton pressed, "with General Grant here in Washington acting as the anvil, would force the conclusion we want."

  Lincoln looked back at Grant.

  "Your reply to that?"

  "A hundred thousand for the Army of the Potomac?" Grant asked.

  "They are the army of this theater, sir," Stanton replied.

  "And have lost," Grant said quietly without condemnation, just a simple statement of fact.

  "Are you saying they should be disbanded?" Stanton asked heatedly.

  "No, sir. They have a role, which I've already mentioned just now to the president. But a hundred thousand strong?"

  "You disagree with the number?" Lincoln asked.

  "Sir, you've appointed me commander in chief of all forces in the field. To do that task I must be in command, and in the field, not trapped in a besieged garrison. Washington will hold just fine for the moment. If another crisis appears, I can quickly shift men here as needed. But if I stay here, I will be cut off, only able to communicate with all the other field commands by a tenuous line of courier boats racing from here up to Perryville and back. The delay will be crippling in and of itself, and will render me ineffective in my post"

  "You answer to the War Department, General Grant" Stanton said heatedly. "General Halleck found it workable to run things from Washington. If you do not like that arrangement, sir..."

  And his voice trailed off as Lincoln held up his hand for silence.

  No one spoke as Lincoln stood back up and walked to the window. He gazed out for a moment. Grant looked straight at Stanton, who was obviously angry, breathing hard, each breath a labored struggle.

  Lincoln finally turned.

  "General Grant, I give you full discretion."

  Stanton shifted, looking over at Lincoln, about to protest

  "Mr. Secretary, you've done an admirable job these last two weeks."

  Grant could detect a certain strain in Lincoln's voice. He knew of the controversy that had blown up about the contradictory orders sent by Stanton and Halleck to Meade, after Lincoln had ordered Meade not to risk his forces recklessly in an attempt to re-establish contact with Washington. He could see that there was a complex battle now brewing between these two men, and his own position was a major piece in that fight.

  "Sir, I must protest" Stanton replied.

  "And your protest will be duly noted. You are right that General Halleck managed things from here, but he did not win from here. I want General Grant out in the field. It's good to hear for once a commander asking for that, and not hiding behind his desk. I think General Grant is right: if he stays here in Washington, his position will be rendered ineffective, and we do not want that now, do we, Edwin?"

  The secretary, flustered, was unable to respond.

  "Good then, that's settled. Gentlemen, I've been up all night and would li
ke to find some sort of breakfast So if you will excuse me."

  The group stood up as Lincoln headed to the door. He stopped and looked back.

  "Grant, would you care to join me?" he asked.

  "Mr. President, I have numerous details to go over with the general," Stanton protested.

  "I think General Haupt could be of more assistance to you at the moment Don't worry, I'll have our commander here back to you later today."

  Without waiting for a reply Lincoln was out the door. Elihu beckoned for Grant to follow.

  Lincoln waited in the hallway as the door closed behind

  Grant. Not a word was spoken as they went back down the stairs. The corridor was packed, word having raced through the building that the president and Grant were in with Stanton. Men snapped to attention, saluting, Lincoln smiling, shaking a few hands until they were out in the street.

  To Grant's dismay he saw several reporters racing up, notebooks out, shouting questions. A provost guard was waiting, however, rounding the reporters up, pressing them back against the wall of the War Office. The press howled, especially when a captain of the guard shouted a reminder that the city was still under martial law and they were to keep quiet about whom they saw, under penalty of arrest.

  Lincoln set off at a brisk pace, crossing the street, heading back to the White House, a mounted guard detail forming a circle around them, but moving at a discreet distance, allowing the three to talk without being heard.

  "Well, that was interesting," Elihu offered.

  "Stanton wanted to chain you to that building," Lincoln said, shaking his head. "He wanted you where he could watch you and control you. You would think that we all would have learned by now."

  "I smell Halleck in this," Elihu replied angrily.

  "All of them are jealous," Lincoln said, shaking his head. "Grant, I'm afraid there are some here who are not pleased by your promotion."

  "I'm sorry if that is the case."

  "Don't be. It's not a time to be sorry about stepping on toes. Especially big toes sticking out from under the safety of their desks."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I think I'm going to like working with you, Grant," Lincoln replied. "You're from the West, as I am; we see things differently. None of this flummery and posturing. I'm sick to death of it, while good boys are dying. Why everyone needs so dang much gold braid to play dress up for what is after all the business of killing is beyond me."