"The other supplies—ether, chloroform, morphine, medical tools, stretchers, bandages, splints, crutches—all of it should be in place."
Haupt fell silent and looked over at Grant.
Grant could see that the man was about to have another violent attack.
"General Haupt, you are excused, sir, and please, will you get yourself over to my doctor and then take some rest?"
"Yes, sir," Haupt gasped and, bent over slightly at the waist, he staggered out of the tent.
Grant followed him with his gaze. Over two years of war he had learned to become hard when it came to the using of men. He had looked into the eyes of far too many, knew he was ordering them to their deaths or the destruction of their commands, and then told them to go, never hesitating, never showing sentiment. War had no room for that, no matter what it might do inside his heart. Haupt was valuable, far too valuable to use up, but it was obvious that the dysentery that was tormenting him was beginning to drain his life away. And yet he had to continue to use him rather than order him back to a hospital in the rear. He had tried that once, and the following morning he had found the man in the telegraphy station, dictating orders as fast as four scribes could take them down, his mind some sort of strange calculating machine that could not stop whirling.
Grant looked back to his three corps commanders and the various staff and division commanders gathered around the table.
"I want this army ready to move within a month," he announced.
There were nods of agreement, though he could see that Ord, if given the order to jump into the Susquehanna today, would do so.
"We are constrained, as are all armies, by our supplies. General Haupt is doing his best to see us through."
"And additional men?" Bumside asked. "I am still one division short of a standard corps. I would have liked to have brought along the Twenty-third Corps from my old command in Kentucky."
"I understand, Burnside. I would have preferred it as well, but we have to maintain some kind of force in Kentucky. You will receive an additional division by the end of the month."
"From where, sir?"
Grant hesitated for a brief instant.
"Eight colored regiments, currently being recruited in Ohio, New York, and Pennsylvania, are to report here. They'll be at nearly full strength. That should be six thousand additional men. Do you object?"
He watched Burnside carefully. More than one general would flatly refuse such an offer, even if it meant his command remained under-strength.
"No problem with that at all, sir," Burnside said and then he actually smiled. "Freemen or slaves?"
"Mostly freemen from the North, though we might have a regiment or two of untrained refugees from Maryland. Why?"
"Slaves are used to the toughest work; army life is a picnic in comparison."
"Until the minie balls start whistling," McPherson interjected.
"Still, I think the black man will prove to be a tough soldier. I'll take 'em."
"Fine then, they're yours. You appoint the division and brigade commanders. Make sure they are of like mind and can inspire these men. I suspect the president will be watching this closely. I don't want these men held back, nor do I want them thrown away as a sacrifice, but they will be expected to fight when the time comes."
As he spoke, he looked over at Elihu, who nodded in agreement
"What about the Nineteenth Corps?" Ord asked.
The men around Ord nodded in agreement and anticipation. Nineteenth Corps was a familiar command to all of them. Though unfortunate to be under General Banks, they had campaigned well farther south on the Mississippi, misused at times by their leader, but good fighting men, nearly all from New England and New York. It was ironic that they, rather than western troops, had wound up on the lower Mississippi, a fate decided by the ability to ship them from northern ports to support Farrugat's naval assault up the river. The men had suffered terribly. For every battle loss, half a dozen were felled by ague or yellow fever. The men were ecstatic to be coming back north again, and would be eager for a fight on familiar terrain rather than the muddy swamps and bayous, which had bedeviled them for over a year.
Even now the convoy bearing them was coming from New Orleans, supposedly to begin docking at Philadelphia in a matter of days. The original command had close to thirty thousand in their ranks; a brigade of infantry, the locally recruited Corps d'Afrique, and some other militia to be left behind to garrison New Orleans. The famed Grierson, commander of their cavalry, a match for Stuart's men, was coming with his brigade as well, to be remounted in Philadelphia once they arrived.
Their arrival would increase his army by over thirty per cent, giving him four solid corps of combat-experienced troops, all of them used to victory.
'The Nineteenth will fall in on Harrisburg within the week. We have to be careful with all these forces coming from the western theater. I don't want any slacking off over this next month," Grant said, and now his voice was sharp. "I've seen a bit of it already, some of the men swaggering around, lording it over the militia and the ninety-day regiments."
As he spoke, he turned and looked straight at old General Couch, who had come to him repeatedly with the complaint. There were still twenty thousand militia with him in Harrisburg, and the old general wanted to take them into the field, to convince as many as possible to reenlist for the duration of the campaign, or "the current emergency," as he was calling it. A number of fistfights had already broken out between the western veterans and the green recruits from the East. The camp of one Pennsylvania militia regiment had been raided only the night before, the men actually stripped of their uniforms, shoes, rifles, tentage, and choice rations, with the culprits running off into the night, hooting and laughing. The hospital was filled this morning with several dozen cases of broken bones and one man lingering near death with a fractured skull.
"Well," Ord interjected, "the boys have a right to be proud."
Grant glared at Ord. Damn! Ord knew it was his boys and was trying to cover up for them.
"I want an army that is united," Grant snapped. "It's why I left the name Army of the Tennessee behind when we got off the boat at Cairo. This is a new army. Do you understand that, a new army, the Army of the Susquehanna."
Everyone was silent
"Do we understand each other? Any more thievery, any more brawls like last night, and I'll have the culprits bucked and gagged, then drummed out of the army, their regimental commander stripped of rank, and right up to corps someone will pay for it."
No one spoke, even Ord lowered his head, though Couch did smile, but his grin disappeared when Grant caught his eye.
"And by heavens, General Couch, if you can convince your men to sign on for the duration, enough to field another corps, they will march and they will fight like soldiers. I rode past your camp yesterday, and a pig wouldn't live in it. As for your men, if that is how they plan to look and fight, I'll ship every last one of them across to the rebels and have them sign up with Lee. With men like that in his command, it will only help us to win."
Now it was Couch's turn to look crestfallen.
"You have commanded a corps in the field, General Couch. I understand your reasons for resigning because of General Hooker. Given your experience, I expect you to whip your men into shape; militia, ninety-day regiments, I don't care. They are to be turned into soldiers ready to face Hood, Pickett Scales, and Early. You've faced them before, Couch, and I'm asking you now, will your men be able to stand on the volley line a month from now? I know the mettle of the rest of my men, but yours I am not sure of, and by God if they break and we lose this war, I will hold you responsible."
Couch nervously looked around the room, the other three corps commanders all glaring at him. "I will do my best, sir."
"You haven't answered my question, General." Couch hesitated, cleared his throat, then finally nodded. "I will have them ready, sir." Grant turned away from him.
"Remember, we are one army now, all of us. T
here will be no room for mistakes either on your part," and he paused for a moment, "or mine."
He caught Elihu's eye, the congressman sitting intent, soaking up every detail.
"Our republic cannot sustain another Gettysburg or Union Mills. If this army is destroyed, our cause is finished. We are stripping every available soldier from our other fronts for this action. We might very well lose some of the gains made in the past year, perhaps a length of the Mississippi, maybe even New Orleans. But that, at this moment, is not of consequence to us. I have for us one goal and one goal only, to destroy General Lee's army in the field and to take Richmond."
No one muttered an approbation, or, worse yet, gave some sort of foolish patriotic reply. All were silent.
"Gentlemen, when we cross that river and move, I do not ever want to hear again someone worrying about what Lee is doing. I want Lee to worry about what we are doing. I do not want anyone worrying that an action taken might lose a battle, and thus the war. I want everyone focused on one thought, that the actions we take will win the battle and win the war. Do I make myself clear?"
Again no response, only a few nods, though a subtle smile did crease the faces of McPherson and Ord, men who had been with him for over a year.
"I've said enough. I want full drill every day except Sunday. I expect to see the roads east of here filled with men marching daily, full packs, good march discipline, and the men in shape. They've had their time to relax, and that is finished. I want to see good food and plenty of it, but no waste. The discipline against strong drink is to be kept in force, and that goes for my officers as well."
His glare moved from man to man; some met his eyes, some lowered their heads.
"We meet again three days from now, same time. Dismissed."
The men cleared the tent; outside he could hear them immediately start to talk, comments about the "old man's ready for a fight" Ord's distinctive, high-pitched laugh about a good chewing-out making a few men nervous.
"That certainly had some heat to it."
Grant looked up to see Elihu smiling at him.
"It was needed."
Grant extended his hand and stood up. Elihu had arrived just at the start of the meeting, fresh from the arduous roundabout journey to Washington and back.
'Tell me everything," Grant said, motioning to the chair by his side.
Elihu, who had sat through the meeting in formal attire, gladly took his jacket and tie off, his finely ruffled shirt plastered to his body with sweat He groaned with delight, took a glass of lemonade, the precious ice long ago melted, and drained it off before sitting down.
"Some good, some bad."
"Go on."
"As you ordered, I brought Dan Sickles up here with me," Elihu said. Grant nodded.
"His reaction when you told him you were escorting him to meet me?"
"He wasn't pleased, tried to beg off, said duties of command, all the usual. I handed him your written order and that took the wind out of his sails, though he did mutter about having to check with Secretary Stanton."
"And?"
"The letter from the president informing him he was to comply with all your orders settled his hash. He's waiting in a tent just down from here."
Grant looked over at his adjutant, Parker, who had remained silent in the corner of the tent throughout the meeting.
"Give Mr. Washburne and me about ten minutes, then go fetch General Sickles for me."
Parker grinned. "Yes, sir." And he left the tent.
"How are things in Washington?"
"In an uproar. The siege is wearing nerves thin."
"They're most likely facing no more than one division of infantry and some cavalry."
"Still, Heintzelman is ordering all troops to stand in place within the fortifications; he fears a ruse and Stanton agrees."
Grant nodded his head.
"Fine for the moment but he should still be probing, making Lee a bit nervous, maybe forcing him to send some troops back that way."
"I carried that suggestion to the president; he said it's like watching a blind woman trying to catch a goose and cut its head off."
Grant chuckled softly.
"But Heintzelman did put up a good fight defending the city."
"Yes, he's good for a defensive fight," Grant said softly.
"Any thoughts on that?"
"Not yet, perhaps later. But what else?"
"You heard about President Davis and the state convention in Baltimore?"
"Just that they were meeting yesterday."
"The rebels have convened a new state legislature. It was sworn in late last night. Its first act was to officially declare that Maryland has withdrawn from the Union and joined the Confederate States of America. Admiral Franklin Buchanan was appointed provisional governor until an election can be held. Judge Richard Carmichael is provisional lieutenant governor and acting as governor until Buchanan can come up from Mobile."
"Interesting turn of events," Grant said noncommitally.
"A smart move by Davis. Carmichael is held in high regard, even by some pro-Unionists. I don't know if you are aware of this, but he was the presiding judge of the Seventh Circuit Court. Some damn coward and two of his cronies pistol-whipped the man nearly to death because of his pro-Southern leanings. It was an outrage felt across the entire state. He's acting as governor for the moment until Buchanan, who is a Maryland native and the highest ranking officer in the Confederate navy, comes up to take the post."
"The fact he commanded the ironclad Virginia will play well with some. Besides, I heard he's an able administrator."
"Exactly. You have a war hero with naval tradition that appeals to Baltimore. In fact, the man was born there, and is a well-respected judge who can work the political angles. A smart move by Davis."
"What about Fort McHenry?"
"Still holding out. That's a strange truce neither side wants to break at the moment. If Lee tries to seize it by a frontal attack, he'll lose thousands; the garrison is well reinforced now. On the other side, President Lincoln has ordered the garrison commander not to fire unless fired upon. If we set off another conflagration in Baltimore, it only will serve the other side."
"The heavy artillery captured around Baltimore?"
"Hard to get accurate reports on that. Some say the guns positioned up on Federal Hill are now all 'Quaker guns, just painted logs, but with so many civilians around that would be hard to conceal. There are some reports that Lee will dispatch the heavy-siege equipment toward Washington; others say he'll finally be forced to try and reduce McHenry.
"Frankly, I hope he fires on McHenry."
"Why?"
"The symbolism of it, General Grant The site of our gallant star-spangled banner remaining defiant against the British. Every artist and editorial writer in the North will have a field day with that one."
Grant had never really thought of it in that light. As for the song, he found it far too difficult to follow, the latter stanzas rather overblown.
"So far the news you bring is bearable; what's the bad news?"
Elihu smiled and shook his head.
"Lee is reportedly starting to get reinforcements. The first of Beauregard's men are reported to be in Baltimore. There are accounts he'll get upward of thirty thousand fresh troops."
"We'll see," Grant replied without any emotion.
"We know as well that he is absolutely burdened with artillery. His standing force, the guns taken at Union Mills that weren't spiked, additional field pieces at Baltimore. Word is he has two hundred and fifty guns and the ammunition to keep them firing for days. They're converting some of their infantry over to artillerymen."
Grant said nothing. In an open-field fight, the type of terrain to be found in a fair part of Maryland—expansive fields and pastures—combined with good roads to move the guns rapidly, this could be a problem.
"Sickles," Elihu continued. "He's cut up a fuss with Stanton that the Nineteenth Corps should be incorporated into his command
, and Stanton agrees."
"Damn him, Stanton has to quit interfering," Grant muttered softly.
"The president said it's up to you though, since you have direct command in the field." "Thank God for that."
"Sickles is also diverting trainloads of equipment and supplies, at least that's the rumor. His Tammany friends have raised five regiments; they paid a lot for them, too. The governor of New York, when he had them sworn in, specifically stated they were taking duty with the Army of the Potomac."
"We're going to put a stop to that"
"Be careful, Sam. Even Lincoln conceded that for the moment Dan Sickles cannot be touched, so I have to ask that you tread lightly."
"I know, I know."
"That's it in rough form. The president is keeping his nerve up to the hilt. At least fifty papers up North have already declared, or will after today's announcement of Maryland's secession, that the president should negotiate a cease-fire with Davis."
"His response?"
"In confidence?"
"Of course."
"He said he wished it was winter; that way he could use the papers as kindling to warm his feet."
Grant could not help but laugh at the image it conjured. Elihu grinned.
"He made another reference to how he might use them as well, but good taste forbids me from citing him."
"More in line with what I was thinking."
"I won't quote you, either, General."
Both men smiled, the interlude interrupted by the clearing of a throat outside the open flap of the tent. It was Parker, General Sickles by his side.
Grant took a deep breath and stood up.
"General Sickles, please come in and join us."
His tone was neutral, not genial, nor cold in the manner in which he had just addressed some of his closest companions only minutes before.
Sickles stopped at the entryway and formally saluted, Grant returning the salute then motioning for the commander of the Army of the Potomac to come in.
Elihu went through the motions of being a proper host, pouring a glass of lemonade and offering it to Dan, who politely refused.
"If you don't mind, sir, after such a hot and arduous trip up here, I'd prefer something a little stronger."
Grant Comes East - Civil War 02 Page 30
