Shattered Nation
Page 50
It was Stanton, which wasn’t a surprise. No one visited him in the White House more than the Secretary of War.
“Ah, Mr. Stanton. How are you this evening?”
“I imagine I am rather like you, Mr. President.”
“Which is to say, poorly and in a bad mood?”
“That about sums it up, Mr. President.”
Lincoln held up a copy of one of the newspapers. “The Democratic press is having a field day with Hooker’s comments about General Sherman’s alleged insanity.”
“I have read them. Indeed, that is why I am here.”
“What are we to do? Truth be told, I myself am greatly concerned about Sherman’s state of mind. Since his defeat at Peachtree Creek and his retreat across the Chattahoochee, he has done nothing at all. He seems as stunned as a duck hit on the head.”
“Grant still has confidence in him,” Stanton replied as he took his seat across from Lincoln.
“Indeed. The two men are like brothers. I can respect that, but I am beginning to have my doubts about Sherman. And I worry that Grant’s loyalty to Sherman, while admirable from a personal point of view, may be misplaced.”
“You are the President,” Stanton said. “You can replace Sherman with a word.”
Lincoln nodded. “I know. But in dealing with military questions, I must walk on a political tightrope.”
“If we replace Sherman now, it will look as though the anti-administration newspapers have been right all along. It would make us appear incompetent before the public, further damaging our chances in the upcoming election.”
Lincoln pursed his lips and shook his head. “True. On the other hand, if we keep Sherman in command of our forces in the West, we may suffer yet another reverse in Georgia. The Democrats would trumpet to the public that I am at fault for foolishly putting a crazy person in command of one of our most important armies and then keeping him there despite a public clamor for his removal.”
“You have replaced commanders before, in spite of political pressure to keep them in place. McClellan himself comes to mind. Also General Rosecrans.”
“But that was not three months before what may be the most important election in American history. An election which may well determine whether America is to be one nation or two.”
At that moment, there was another knock on the door. Upon calling for the person to enter, Lincoln looked up and saw his Navy Secretary, Gideon Welles, walk into the room. He had a beaming smile on his face, evident even through the enormous white beard that seemed to cascade off his face like a waterfall.
“Good evening, Mr. Welles,” Lincoln said warmly. “This is an unexpected pleasure. If I may judge by the expression on your face, you have good news to share with me. I must say that receiving some good news for a change would be quite a tonic.”
“I do have good news to report, Mr. President,” Welles said. “Stupendous news, in fact. We have just received a telegram from Admiral Farragut.”
Lincoln nodded quickly, anxious to hear what had happened. “If I recall correctly, his fleet is currently on blockade duty in the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“And what news do we have from the good admiral? Out with it, man!”
“I am delighted to report that Admiral Farragut successfully entered Mobile Bay yesterday with a fleet of eighteen warships. He fought and won a fierce battle with the rebel fleet there, destroying or capturing every enemy ship. He is now in the process of reducing the coastal forts and expects to complete this task within days.”
Lincoln sat back with a wide smile on his face, a heavy weight having fallen off his shoulders. “So, if I am understanding you correctly, we have successfully closed off one of the principal routes of enemy blockade runners.”
“Indeed, Mr. President.”
“Losses?”
“One of our ironclads, the Tecumseh, was sunk by one of those barbaric torpedoes. The other ships lost a few hundred men in killed and wounded. But we destroyed two enemy ships and captured the ironclad Tennessee.”
“Good. Very good, indeed.” Lincoln slapped his thigh and allowed his lips to curl into a smile. “I regret the loss of the brave men of the Tecumseh and the other vessels, of course, but no victory is without its cost.”
“It is a great and important victory, Mr. President,” Stanton said with conviction. His normally dour expression had lit up upon hearing Welles relay the details of the battle. “I must say, this is the first bit of good news we have heard in weeks!”
Lincoln rubbed his chin. “A victory in a dramatic naval battle, especially one that inflicts such damage on the enemy, will certainly do much for the morale of the people. The papers love this sort of thing.”
“Quite so,” Stanton said. “Of course, the strategic results are all very well, but this event will prove very important in terms of politics. We must use this victory in such a way as to influence public opinion as to the course of the war.”
“How do you suggest we do this, Mr. Stanton?” Lincoln asked.
“I shall immediately send telegrams to the editors of all major newspapers which are friendly to our administration, giving them full details of the recent victory, including any particularly dramatic anecdotes which may have taken place during this engagement. If they do their job right, we can expect that citizens throughout the Union will soon be seeing headlines describing a major Union victory, rather than a major Union defeat.”
Lincoln nodded. “Yes, that would be very well done. In the meantime, I shall write to all Republican state leaders, reminding them to trumpet the news of Mobile Bay whenever they hear any suggestion of a lack of military success.”
Welles chimed in. “I can compile a report as to the impact we think the seizure of Mobile Bay will have on the Southern war economy and arrange for the report to find its way into the hands of friendly editors. That would ensure the story will last longer than it otherwise would.”
“A fine idea,” Stanton said.
Welles wasn’t done. “I’ll also make sure that all the reporters and editors understand that the Tennessee was quite possibly the most powerful warship afloat anywhere in the world. It will make our capture of the rebel vessel appear all the more dramatic and impressive.”
“Indeed,” Lincoln said with an appreciative nod. He went on. “Gentlemen, you have made me a very happy man this evening. Since the sad events of Peachtree Creek at Atlanta, the rebel raid on Washington City and the disaster of the Crater at Petersburg, I have been on the hunt for good news. I thank you for bringing my search to a successful conclusion.”
After a quick round of thanks and congratulations, Stanton and Welles departed, leaving Lincoln alone. He went back to reading the newspapers, considerably more pleased than he had been half an hour before.
*****
August 7, Noon
“Have you read this?” Johnston asked, holding up a telegram for Mackall to see. The tone of his voice was one of incredulous amusement.
“The latest message from the War Department, I assume?”
Johnston shook his head. “If Jefferson Davis seriously thinks that this army can cross the Chattahoochee and launch an attack on Sherman, than I can only conclude that the man has gone out of his senses. Dear God, he even suggests that we might drive the enemy back toward Chattanooga!”
“Davis is building a castle in the sky, clearly.”
“Please draft a reply to Richmond, concisely explaining why such an offensive is inadvisable.” He paused and considered. “No, don’t say `inadvisable’. Say `impossible’. We must force them to see that such an offensive is simply beyond the realm of possibility.”
“Of course, sir. Perhaps you might summarize?”
Johnston laughed lightly. “Happily. The Army of Tennessee cannot possibly cross the river and attack Sherman for a number of reasons. First, despite the losses the enemy suffered at Peachtree Creek, their army still outnumbers our own. It must be remembered that we suffered h
eavily at Peachtree Creek, too. Second, attempting to cross a major river in the face of the enemy is a difficult military operation even under the best circumstances. To do so here would risk having our army defeated in detail, thus squandering all we gained as a result of our recent victory.”
Mackall nodded, taking notes. “Sounds logical, if you ask me.”
“Logic does not often enter the mind of our illustrious President, my friend. Now, to continue. We lack sufficient bridging equipment to build more than one or two pontoon bridges over the Chattahoochee. Even if we were somehow able to seize a bridgehead on the north bank, it would take many days to cross over a force large enough to hold its own against Sherman’s forces.”
Mackall continued writing and Johnston continued.
“Attempting to cross back to the north bank of the river to fight a major battle against Sherman would obviously entail moving the vast majority of our troops away from the railroads for several days. We lack sufficient wagons and horses to carry enough food and ammunition for an extended operation.”
“All good points, General.”
“Finally, having sent Wheeler to raid the Western and Atlantic Railroad far north of our present position, roughly half of our cavalry is now absent from this army. If we were to somehow succeed in crossing the river, and if we were to somehow supply our troops with food and ammunition, we would be fighting a battle with our eyes closed. We would lack sufficient cavalry to properly scout the enemy positions and screen our own flanks.”
“Well, that should give me sufficient material with which to draft a persuasive message,” Mackall said.
“Let me see it before you send it,” Johnston said. “I want to make it perfectly clear to our friends in Richmond that any talk of an offensive is simple lunacy. Dear Lord, can they not be satisfied by the victory we obtained at Peachtree Creek?”
The conversation was interrupted by a messenger who entered and quickly handed Johnston a telegram. As he read it, his face darkened.
“What?” Mackall asked.
“Message from General Taylor. It seems the Yankees have seized Mobile Bay. Their fleet destroyed all our vessels in the bay, including the Tennessee, and is now proceeding with siege operations against Fort Morgan. Taylor says that its fall is only a matter of time.”
“I was under the impression that the Tennessee was invincible, sir.”
“It would seem not, William. Taylor is now concerned that the Yankees will follow up with an attack on the city of Mobile itself.”
“Bad news, obviously. How might this affect us?”
Johnston shrugged. “A few batteries of heavy artillery have been sent to us from Mobile. In light of this news, Richmond may order us to send them back. Beyond that, I would imagine that any hope of further reinforcements is ended. If any troops can be spared, Richmond will likely send them to Mobile. Indeed, Davis may well demand that we send troops to Taylor’s assistance.”
“If he does, would you expect him to at least have the sense to drop his demand for an offensive against Sherman?”
Johnston laughed bitterly. “You’re talking about a man who has less sense than a fence post, William. I would not be all that surprised if his next telegram includes an order for us to launch an assault on the moon.”
*****
August 8, Night
“I did everything I could on your behalf,” Bragg said. “I want that to be clear. I told President Davis directly that Johnston should be removed and that you should be put in his place.”
Hood nodded as he sipped his ale. “I believe you.”
Not wanting to attract attention, neither Bragg nor Hood were in uniform. Neither were any of the other men packed into the ale house off Court Square near the center of Montgomery, busy swilling beer and smoking cigars. The large number of able-bodied men who might have been serving in the ranks troubled Bragg, but he reminded himself that Montgomery was a center of production for Confederate war material. Presumably, most of these men served their country by working in the iron foundries or powder mills. Without their labor, Southern soldiers would be going into battle without weapons.
They were cloistered together in a corner table, their conversation illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle. Bragg, a teetotaler, was drinking apple cider that the disapproving bartender had pushed on him. Hood was finishing his third ale.
“And now that bastard has won his big battle,” Hood said angrily. “Davis can’t replace him now, by God. He still has no business running an army, but he won’t be replaced. The people wouldn’t like it. Politics and such.”
“That’s true.”
Hood shook his head. “Johnston just got lucky is all. Thomas and Sherman made a stupid mistake. Johnston didn’t do anything brilliant. Any child could have done the same thing and gotten the same result. I would have beaten Sherman far more thoroughly than Johnston did.”
Bragg nodded.
Hood’s mouth turned into a furious frown. “And I’ll tell you what, Bragg. If Johnston hadn’t been so lucky, the Union army would have smashed right into Atlanta from the east, because that fool had stripped me of nearly half my corps! You should have seen it. I was left alone with ten thousand men against forty thousand Yankees. It’s a damn miracle that the battle did not end in complete disaster.”
“You will include these details in your official report, I assume?”
“Of course. But that’s not the only thing.”
Bragg took a sip from his cider. “Go on.”
“When the battle was over, the Yankees were helpless. I had two good divisions that had barely fired a shot all day, along with several batteries of horse artillery. Wheeler had three brigades of cavalry that had been uncommitted. But Johnston would not let us pursue the beaten enemy. He let them escape.”
“Is that so?” Bragg asked.
“It is, sir. And since the Yankees were all south of the Chattahoochee River, we could have captured the whole damn lot of them had we undertaken a vigorous pursuit. But Johnston didn’t. And I shall include that in my report, too.”
Bragg nodded. He himself had come under furious criticism from Hardee and other generals in the Army of Tennessee for failing to pursue the defeated Army of the Cumberland after the victory at Chickamauga. He had always considered this an absurd insult to his leadership, for his own army had been almost as badly damaged from victory as the Yankee army had been from defeat. If what Hood was saying had any truth to it, however, Johnston had had sizable forces still at hand with which he might have pursued Sherman and won an even more decisive victory.
Resentment suddenly burned in Bragg’s soul. It was a familiar feeling, but one he had been experiencing much more often of late. For the past two-and-a-half weeks, the headlines of every major newspaper in the Confederacy had been trumpeting the genius and daring of Johnston. They had also been fawning over Hardee and Cleburne, celebrating as heroes men Bragg considered nothing but villains.
Those men in the Army of Tennessee who were friendly to Bragg, by contrast, were receiving no credit whatsoever for the victory at Peachtree Creek. General Walker’s division had done fine work, but few accounts mentioned his name. Wheeler had had virtually no part to play, and Hood’s corps had been left out of the fighting altogether.
The Battle of Peachtree Creek may have been a victory for the Confederacy. For Braxton Bragg, however, it felt more like a defeat.
He looked across the table at Hood, who had just started his fourth ale. No doubt Hood felt the same as he did. All of Richmond had been swirling with rumors of Hood’s impending promotion to command the Army of Tennessee in the days leading up to the battle. The moment news of the victory had shot through the telegraph wires, however, most of those who had been vilifying Johnston and looking with hope to Hood’s ascension immediately reversed themselves, claiming how relieved they were that Johnston had remained in command.
“Are you confident in being able to reach the Trans-Mississippi?” Bragg asked.
“Hopefully you will be able to achieve some good out there. Most of our efforts have not been as successful as we would like.”
“I should like to recruit additional soldiers from Texas as well.”
“Well, your reputation among your fellow Texans is well-known. I am sure that many new recruits will come to the colors if they learn they are to serve under your command.”
“We’ll see, I suppose.” He took a quick sip of his ale. “And you? Are you to return to Richmond now?”
“Yes, my inspection tour of the area is complete. A pity my warnings about the weaknesses of the defenses of Mobile Bay came too late. Ah, well, there’s nothing to be done about that now. Elsewhere, our forces seem strong enough. So many Yankee troops have been sent to reinforce Sherman that their ability to launch incursions into Mississippi and Alabama has been sharply reduced.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“It is, yes.”
Hood paused and took a deep breath before speaking again. “When you go to Richmond, I wonder if you might do something for me.”
“Certainly. What is it?”
He pulled out a large, fully stuffed envelope. “This contains a copy of the infamous memorandum General Cleburne authored a few months ago. The one which advocated that the government free negro slaves in order to enroll them in the army.”
Bragg pulled back as though the envelope were made of fire. “President Davis has strictly ordered that no discussion of that memorandum be permitted.”
“I know. But there is information which I think President Davis needs to know. Information which has not yet been brought to his attention.”
“I thought this whole devilishness had been put behind us. Cleburne is a fool. That proposal should never have been conceived, much less written. And what is this new information you are talking about?”