Clouds of Glory

by Michael Korda

  “McClellan has the army with him,” Lincoln said in mournful resignation, and he was right. If command of the army had lifted McClellan’s spirits, it had an even greater effect on his troops. McClellan loved spit and polish and firm discipline, both of which did much to restore the army’s dignity and self-respect, but he also understood the importance of better food and improved sanitation. When he reviewed the Army of the Potomac, cantering past the troops on Daniel Webster, his big, dark bay horse, in full uniform with a gold sash and gleaming gold-and-blue embroidered sword belt, the men cheered him lustily, threw their caps into the air, and told each other that “Little Mac is back!” “Again I have been called upon to save the country,” he wrote to Ellen, his self-esteem and complacency restored. His tendency toward paranoia and his contempt for politicians were undiminished, but for the moment held under control. “The march of the Confederates toward the north no longer allowed [McClellan] to confine himself to a mere defense of the capital,” noted the ubiquitous Comte de Paris sagely, “but compelled him to undertake an offensive campaign.” In fact, McClellan recognized that his return to command depended on one thing, and one thing only: a rapid victory over Robert E. Lee.

  As for Lee, if he had truly anticipated an outpouring of support and recruits from Marylanders in response to his proclamation, he was to be disappointed. The state of his army was also a concern. The men were exhausted after continuous fighting and marching for over a month, many were barefoot, most were emaciated, their uniforms were in rags, and the horses were almost as starved as the men. One bystander remembered them as “the dirtiest men I ever saw, a most ragged, lean and hungry set of wolves.” Indeed their condition was such as to shock and discourage even the most pro-Confederate of Marylanders. More seriously still, straggling had become such a problem that Lee was obliged to request from Rihmond a “military commission” and a reinforced “provost-marshal’s guard,” the nineteenth-century equivalent of military police, to round them up. The paved roads of Maryland were harder for barefoot men to march on than the dirt roads farther south, and many of the men felt they had joined the army to defend the South, not to invade the North. Desertion increased. Lee sent his aide Colonel Long back toward Winchester to see to the problem, and to dissuade President Davis from his proposal to join Lee in Maryland.

  The latter mission was all the more important because Lee had decided to move his army from Frederick, where his men had already exhausted the food supply, northwest toward Hagerstown, less than five miles from the Pennsylvania border. This would mean effectively breaking off his line of communication with Richmond in favor of moving farther west. Supplies and ammunition would reach him via Winchester and Martinsburg through the Shenandoah Valley. Admittedly, Lee’s line of communications via Culpeper was vulnerable to an attack “from the direction of Washington,” but moving it to the Shenandoah Valley, apart from making it longer, was also not without danger. Both Martinsburg and Harpers Ferry were in Union hands, and Lee’s new line of communication could be harassed or even altogether cut off from either place. It was Hobson’s choice, but he decided on the Shenandoah Valley, although that meant he would have to take Martinsburg and Harpers Ferry. This was a catastrophic decision, since he would have to split his forces to accomplish it. Longstreet, who tends to get the blame for the consequences of most of Lee’s bad decisions, argued against splitting the army, and this time he was right.

  Lee may have been gambling on McClellan’s notorious tendency to wait until everything in his army was perfect before moving,* and even then doing so with extreme caution; but if so, that was also a mistake. For once McClellan seemed aware that his career and his public reputation depended on swift and aggressive movement. He may have been moved by his good fortune in being restored to command of the army after Pope’s disgrace, or he may have been reacting to calls from the press in the North urging him to become a military dictator, or to run for the presidency in 1864, or some combination of both—Stephen W. Sears, in his biography of McClellan, cites the New York Herald’s call for him “to become an American Cromwell,” a role for which McClellan seems singularly ill-suited—but whatever the reason he seemed to be moving with a firmer step here than on the peninsula, although he had not lost his habit of overestimating his enemy’s strength. He now believed that Lee had at least 120,000 men, more than twice the number that Colonel Long gives, from which must be deducted the substantial and growing number of stragglers and deserters since the army had crossed the Rappahannock. Lee had constantly borne in mind the disparity of forces between himself and McClellan—Freeman puts Lee’s strength in Maryland at no more than 53,000* men, whereas McClellan had 84,000, with another 75,000 defending Washington.

  Lee hoped that when his new line of communication through the Shenandoah Valley was secured, he might reach the Susquehanna bridge of the Pennsylvania Railroad, seventy-one miles west of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and cut the East “off from the West,” thereby “assuring that no reinforcements could reach his adversary from the West,” and making possible a march on Philadelphia, Baltimore, or Washington, and a victorious conclusion of the war for the South.

  This is the first but not the last time that Harrisburg would play a vital role in Lee’s strategy, but it seems a long reach, and assumes that Lee could maneuver at will in Maryland and Pennsylvania without facing a battle. McClellan was certainly “a deliberate opponent,” but not quite so supine as that. In addition, seventy-one miles is a long way to march, particularly for an army that is exhausted and half-starved, and there seems no reason why McClellan could not obtain reinforcements from the North, or even draw on the troops guarding Washington if need be, rather than relying on troops from the West. Finally, at the rate Lee was losing men, would he have enough left to take and—more important—hold a large northern city?

  In any event, these rosy possibilities, though they dance like sugarplum fairies in many southern accounts of the war, would become possible only when Lee had beaten McClellan decisively in the field, and the one way to do that was to concentrate his forces rapidly and strike the Federal army while it was still strung out on the road between Washington and Frederick.

  On or around September 9 Lee sent for Jackson. They met in Lee’s tent with the tent flap closed, while Lee explained his plan. Jackson was certainly the man best suited to take Harpers Ferry: he knew the place well, and no general North or South could move faster. At some point Lee heard Longstreet’s booming voice outside, loud enough so that Lee opened the tent flap and invited him in. As one of Lee’s two army commanders, Longstreet cannot have been well pleased to find that his chief was discussing strategy with Jackson behind the equivalent of a closed door. Longstreet notes with a hint of displeasure that the tent flap was not just closed but “tied.” Once he learned the subject of their discussion, he was even less happy—this was exactly what Longstreet had been warning against even before Lee crossed the Potomac.

  18. The approach to Sharpsburg.

  {Robert E. Lee, Volumes 1, 2, and 3, by Douglas Southall Freeman, copyright © 1934, 1935, by Charles Scribner’s Sons, copyright renewed 1962, 1963, by Inez Godden Freeman. All rights reserved.}

  Lee’s relationship with his two principal subordinates sheds a certain amount of light on his character. Obviously he placed great trust in Jackson, whose religious belief was as strong as Lee’s own—though rather more sternly enforced; whose ability to overcome difficulties and keep his army moving was second to none; and who always obeyed Lee’s orders without question or hesitation. Yet he had a good deal of affection and respect for Longstreet, an altogether more balky and obstinate character, who not only argued with Lee, but never let go of an argument even when Lee had dismissed it. Lieutenant-Colonel Fremantle of the Coldstream Guards, the shrewd and ubiquitous British observer who attached himself to Lee’s headquarters, would remark that “the relationships between [Lee] and Longstreet are quite touching—they are almost always together. . . . It is impossible to please Longstre
et more than by praising Lee.” Southern historians have often painted a very different picture of the relationship between the two men, but Fremantle was close to both of them, and was no fool. The word “touching” coming from a British military officer of the Victorian age with the stiffest of stiff upper lips suggests not only respect, but a degree of real friendship. No matter how “sulky” Longstreet might be, or how skeptical, Lee always seems to have heard him out with respect and a degree of affection, even when he had already decided not to follow the advice of the man he called his “Old War Horse.”

  Longstreet was not the only person to express dismay. Harpers Ferry was not necessarily hard to take—it passed hands many times during the war—but it would have to be attacked from three sides at once to prevent the escape of its garrison of 12,000 men. Lee summoned the commander of one of the three columns to his tent to brief him on his role. Brigadier General John G. Walker’s face must have betrayed his astonishment, since Lee said (according to Freeman), “You doubtless regard it hazardous to leave McClellan practically on my line of communication, and to march into the heart of the enemy’s country?”

  Walker had to admit that this was exactly what he thought.

  “Are you acquainted with General McClellan?” Lee asked. “He is an able general, but a very cautious one. His enemies among his own people think him too much so. . . . [He] will not be prepared for offensive operations—or he will not think it so—for three or four weeks. Before that time I hope to be on the Susquehanna.”

  Lee had not forgotten his intention to demolish the Baltimore and Ohio railroad bridge. He wanted Jackson to accomplish that on his way to Harpers Ferry, as well as to destroy the soaring stone aqueduct of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal which crossed the Monocacy River, and also to tear up as much of the B&O track as possible. While all this was going on, the rest of the army would proceed toward Hagerstown, where Jackson would rejoin it, so that the whole army would be concentrated before marching into Pennsylvania. All this was spelled out crisply and in much detail in one of Lee’s most famous orders, “Special Orders, No. 191,” dated September 9, 1862. This is worth reading in full, because it contradicts suggestions that have sometimes been made that Lee’s orders were unclear, or that his staff failed to convey them accurately. It might serve, in fact, as the very model of how to draw up orders for an army, were it not for the fact that Major General D. H. Hill received not one but two copies of it, and that the extra copy was used by one of his staff officers “to wrap up three cigars,” and place them in an official envelope for safekeeping. Accidentally dropped in “an abandoned Confederate camp” near Frederick, Lee’s order was in McClellan’s hands four days after it was written, giving an astonished McClellan every detail of Lee’s plans.

  HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA,

  September 9, 1862.

  Special Orders, No. 191.

  1. The citizens of Fredericktown being unwilling, while overrun by members of this army, to open their stores in order to give them confidence all officers and men of this army are strictly prohibited from visiting Fredericktown except on business, in which case they will bear evidence of this in writing from division commanders. The provost marshal in Fredericktown will see that his guard rigidly enforces this order.

  2. Major Taylor will proceed to Leesburg, Virginia, and arrange for transportation of the sick and those unable to walk to Winchester, securing the transportation of the country for this purpose.

  The route between this and Culpeper Court House east of the mountains being unsafe will no longer be traveled. Those on the way to this army already across the river will move up promptly; all others will proceed to Winchester collectively and under command of officers, at which point, being the general depot of this army, its movements will be known and instructions given by commanding officer regulating further movements.

  3. The army will resume its march tomorrow, taking the Hagerstown road. General Jackson’s command will form the advance, and after passing Middletown with such portion as he may select, take the route toward Sharpsburg, cross the Potomac at the most convenient point, and by Friday morning take possession of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, capture such of the enemy as may be at Martinsburg, and intercept such as may attempt to escape from Harper’s Ferry.

  4. General Longstreet’s command will pursue the main road as far as Boonsborough, where it will halt with reserve, supply, and baggage trains of the army.

  5. General McLaws, with his own division and that of General R. H. Anderson, will follow General Longstreet. On reaching Middletown he will take the route to Harper’s Ferry, and by Friday morning possess himself of the Maryland Heights and endeavor to capture the enemy at Harper’s Ferry and vicinity.

  6. General Walker, with his division, after accomplishing the object in which he is now engaged, will cross the Potomac at Cheek’s Ford, ascend its right bank to Lovettsville, take possession of Loudon Heights, if practicable, by Friday morning, Keys’s Ford on his left, and the road between the end of the mountain and the Potomac on his right. He will, as far as practicable, cooperate with generals McLaws and Jackson, and intercept the retreat of the enemy.

  7. General D. H. Hill’s division will form the rear-guard of the army, pursuing the road taken by the main body. The reserve artillery, ordnance, and supply-trains, etc., will precede General Hill.

  8. General Stuart will detach a squadron of cavalry to accompany the commands of generals Longstreet, Jackson, and McLaws, and, with the main body of the cavalry, will cover the route of the army, bringing up all stragglers that may have been left behind.

  9. The commands of generals Jackson, McLaws, and Walker, after accomplishing the objects for which they have been detached, will join the main body of the army at Boonsborough or Hagerstown.

  10. Each regiment on the march will habitually carry its axes in regimental ordnance wagons, for use of the men at their encampments, to procure wood, etc.

  By command of General R. E. Lee.

  R. H. CHILTON,

  Assistant adjutant-general.

  The fact that Lee’s order No. 191 fell into McClellan’s hands through spectacular carelessness is only part of its significance. The order presumes an almost uncanny lethargy on the part of McClellan, and violates the first rule of warfare, which is to concentrate one’s forces against the enemy. Lee split his army into the three major “columns,” and further split Jackson’s command into three separate columns, none of them in a position to support the others if the need arose. It is hard to imagine a more dangerous position for an army operating in enemy territory with one very doubtful line of communication and one not yet secured, pursued by an army that was markedly superior in numbers and supplies, as well as in quality and quantity of artillery.

  The military historian Major-General J. F. C. Fuller turns positively apoplectic when describing Lee’s decision, which he refers to as “a suicidal diversion of force,” and goes on to add: “Lee held the enemy in such contempt that he saw no danger in sending half his army in one direction, whilst he proceeded with the remaining half in the other; and this in the face of an enemy which outnumbered his own by nearly two to one!” Fuller is not a writer who uses an exclamation point lightly. Longstreet, who objected to this plan from the beginning, would write, with only a touch more restraint, “The great mistake of the campaign was the division of Lee’s army,” and it is difficult to disagree. The loss of the order was an accident, a piece of carelessness for which Lee was not responsible, just another of the innumerable hazards of war, but the division of his army was an error, a fatal misreading of the situation.

  General Fuller’s opinion that “Lee held the enemy in . . . contempt” is surely not the reason for Lee’s decision. He was too much a gentleman to either feel or express contempt for anyone, save for General Pope, and that was because of Pope’s order threatening punishment for Confederate sympathizers in the areas he controlled. He certainly felt no contempt for General McClellan, whom he descr
ibed after the war as the ablest Union general he had fought against, and would have been incapable of feeling contempt for the soldiers of the army he had served for most of his adult life. It is much more likely that what Lee felt was a mild euphoria after his recent successes. He had come to rely on the resilience and bravery of Confederate troops even when they were heavily outnumbered, as well as their patient ability to survive near-starvation, lack of boots and decent uniforms, and long, brutal marches day after day. Lee was too humble a man to feel anything so brash as overconfidence in his own skill as a general, but he suffered from overconfidence in his troops, which is almost as dangerous and often leads to rash decisions. What’s more, it is contagious—Jackson, and many other Confederate generals, followed Lee’s example, and inevitably some of them assumed that even when they made a mistake, their troops would get them out of it. More often than not the troops did so, but even the bravest troops cannot always overcome a serious error on the part of their general. Longstreet’s common sense about what Confederate troops could and could not do normally acted as a brake on Lee’s riskier plans, although on this occasion, as at Gettysburg, it failed to persuade Lee.