Down the Sky: Volume Three of the “Strike The Tent” Trilogy

by W. Patrick Lang

  “They will hang,” Hay said. “They will surely hang.”

  On the 19th of March, the leading units of Sheridan’s 10,000 sabers, horse artillery and trains reached General Grant east of Richmond. The troops settled in for a few days of well-earned rest. They had passed north of the Confederate defenses of the city without being molested in any way.

  On the 21st of March, Major General James H. Wilson, a member of the West Point Class of 1860 departed Tennessee in command of 13,500 US cavalry armed with the Spencer repeating carbine. He was twenty eight years old. His cavalry were part of George Thomas’ massive forces in north Georgia and Tennessee. Wilson was a former chief of the Cavalry Bureau in Washington, and one of the men responsible for the vast improvement of the effectiveness of that arm of the federal army.

  In that task he had benefited greatly from the assistance of Colonel Marco Farinelli.

  Wilson’s present task was to raid Selma, Alabama. Destruction of the factories and railroad works at Selma were the aims of his expedition.

  Nathan Bedford Forrest was his opponent.

  “Yes, he asked what we would do with spies.” Hay said, almost sotto voce.

  Davenport nodded in acceptance of the words.

  Colonel Lafayette Baker leaned back in his chair.

  Wilson Ford and the detective, Topham, had accompanied the White House and War Department officials to Baker’s National Detective Bureau on Pennsylvania Avenue. In fact, they had almost dragged them there after Davenport revealed Devereux’s momentary lapse about the fate of “spies.”

  Lafayette Baker was both an athlete and an ascetic. His office looked like a monk’s cell. There were no pictures on the walls, and no sign of his seemingly endless occupation of the room for four years.

  He looked down at the horse drawn traffic in the street. The weather was changing. Spring was coming, and he thought to open a window. The aroma of horse came into the room. A youth wandered the sidewalk wearing a sandwich board advertisement for Ford’s Theater. Baker saw a corner of the sign as the boy went round a corner into another street. “……… Cousin” was inscribed on the sign. Baker liked the theater and paused to write himself a note regarding the play. “He beat me once before, right here,” Baker said “You were here, Davenport. You sided with him…” He looked up, accusation in his voice. “This is nothing… You have nothing. I will not be humiliated again by this man. It has been two weeks. It took you a long time to make up your minds to come to me. Why is that?”

  “We know how little we have, Ford said. “All we want is that you renew the scrutiny of his household. There must be someone there who will give him up…”

  Baker thought about that and then nodded to Topham.

  On the 22rd of March, Lee called Lieutenant General John B. Gordon to him and asked for his “appreciation” of the general situation.

  After a night’s work Gordon returned with his opinion.

  Before he began, Lee offered coffee, coffee traded across the lines near Petersburg. “How is Mrs. Gordon?” he asked with the instinctive courtesy that masked the fire and ice in his soul.

  Having taken a moment to respond to the meaningless question, Gordon began. “We have very little chance… Perhaps if we had begun to arm the Negroes a year ago…”

  Lee nodded. “Yes it is too late now, too late, although Francis Smith at the military institute has offered to train and officer them. If, we had time…”

  Gordon was impatient with that. Virginians generally were hard to understand in the complexity of their loyalties and relationships. Lee was no different.

  The tent walls shook in the wind and cold.

  “My first suggestion would be that peace negotiations should begin on whatever terms we can obtain.” He examined Lee’s face. There was no sign of a reaction. “My second thought is that Grant will keep extending his line to our right and southwest. He will bring more and more troops to that side under some skilled man like Warren, Sheridan or Wright. Eventually he will have enough strength there to crush the end of our line and reach the railroad that supplies us. It would be a good thing to leave these lines before that happens. We could move southwest to join forces with General Johnston in North Carolina and perhaps defeat Sherman before turning back to deal with Grant himself. If that is not an acceptable possibility then we should attack soon to break through to Grant’s supply base at City Point. If we can do that, he will be forced to pull back away from our right flank and the railroad. That will ‘buy’ us some time.”

  Lee agreed. “I knew you would give me a sound opinion. You are the only one left who can, the only one… President Davis will not agree to a peace that ends our independence. He will not agree to leave Richmond voluntarily. Therefore, we will attack. We will attack to capture Fort Stedman near Petersburg. We will reach their military railroad and then City Point behind it. We will attack at dawn in two days. You will command. I can find 10,000 men for you.” Lee sat waiting, waiting…

  “You had already decided.”

  “I had, and I also had news from our best friend in Washington City. This helped me form an opinion. ‘Hannibal’ is his style in the records. He is a loyal man. He always gives me good information, but it was better that you decide for yourself…”

  “May I know who this is?”

  “No you may not, except that he is one of us and has sacrificed much…”

  That same day, A French embassy officer brought Balthazar and Doctor Smith, his former battalion surgeon, to the house on Duke Street. They were still dressed in ragged Confederate uniform. They had lost weight. Balthazar was recovering from a severe case of lung infection. He had nearly died in the camp on Johnson’s Island in Lake Erie. This was a prison camp reserved for Confederate commissioned officers. It had seemed to Balthazar that it was intended that they die there from exposure, starvation and hostile guards. So many had died that winter that he thought the place had fulfilled its purpose. Doctor Smith, although he could have obtained release as a medical officer, chose to stay to care for the prisoners. He had saved Balthazar’s life. When release papers from the U.S. War Department arrived, Balthazar refused to leave without Smith. After heated discussion with the French representative who carried the papers, that was accomplished.

  Alexandrians gathered in front of the Devereux house to greet the two men. The uniform drew them like flies to honey.

  Victoria brought her boys and the infant girl that Balthazar had never seen. Smoot came from the Fairfax Street house to greet his old commander. He was standing next to Hope when Claude arrived to find them all gathered in the front parlor.

  On the 24th, Lincoln and Devereux left Washington by steamer for City Point. The president wanted to see progress in the campaign. Grant offered to act as tour guide. There would be a grand review of US Ninth Army Corps commanded by Major General John Parke, a solid professional soldier transferred like so many other senior officers from the Engineer Corps of the “old army.”

  After a night on board the steamer, they disembarked in the dark and rode the military railroad to Parke’s encampments near Petersburg.

  Light was noticeable in the sky when the Rebel Yell drowned out conversation in their train. Men looked at each other over coffee cups. Parke listened for a moment. “Fort Stedman,” he said. “It is 500 yards from here.”

  Gordon had placed his veteran infantry during the night. The front line trenches were on the very edge of the small city. There was no open country in which to position so many men, so Gordon placed them all over the town. They waited in silence in the darkened streets that led to the front line. The distances were so small that many could hear Yankee sentries talking to each other. Standing in a cross street, Gordon waited until he judged the moment to be right and then signaled commanders that they might go forward. As was his custom he went with them as their men swarmed up out of trenches and ran across “no man’s land” to Fort Stedman. The Confederate assault force brushed past the obstacles, bayonetted the sentries an
d jumped down into the log walled interior of the fortification.

  The attack emerged from the far side of the works and pressed forward towards the siding where Lincoln, Devereux and Grant waited in a railroad car. The engine was temporarily absent. A fault in the gears had caused the railroad crew to go in search of another engine that was thought to be nearby. Much hung in the balance for a few minutes.

  Parke disappeared into one of his camps next to the track.

  The windows of the car were sooty and smeared but couriers could be seen riding off in various directions. Within a few minutes, a mass of troops moved out of the nearest camp with Parke at their head. They disappeared into the wood in the direction of Petersburg and Ft. Stedman.

  Devereux wondered what would happen if Confederate soldiers suddenly appeared outside the car. What should he say to Lincoln if that happened?

  Lincoln continued to chat with people in the car, seemingly unconcerned by their situation. Grant smoked a couple of cigars. The president read a Richmond newspaper that he had brought with him. The noise of the fighting in Fort Stedman continued for an hour as more and more of Parke’s troops passed. There were a lot of them.

  The new engine finally arrived. It took them back to City Point and apparent safety. News came that night that the Confederate attack was defeated and that the Southerners were driven back into the town.

  When they were alone in Lincoln’s hut after dinner and working on drafts of correspondence, the president asked what they had seen that day.

  The mask was firm around the edges, so Devereux risked a heartbreaking answer. “I would say that they will not attack again. They lack the strength. It is just a matter of time and not much time…”

  Lincoln nodded from a rocking chair the army found for him. He had a multi-colored “rug” across his knees. “You can leave for six months after Grant takes Richmond,” he said. His attention then returned to the letters in his lap.

  Claude tried to calculate the odds for escape. He could not.

  The next day Lincoln went with Grant to the long pontoon bridges across the James River below Richmond. They went there to see Sheridan’s Cavalry Corps cross to the south side of the river. 10,000 horsemen, a hundred light guns, hundreds of ambulances, thousands of spare horses and supply wagons, it was an impressive sight.

  Battle of Five Forks

  Sheridan halted his staff to greet the commander-in-chief. His red and white command flag fluttered behind him. In his entourage were Marco Farinelli and George White, Devereux’s mulatto cousin. The three men stared at each other across the 20 yards that separated them. Nothing was said. Ah, yes, Georgio Rinaldi, good for him.

  On the first of April, Grant attacked the right of Lee’s line at a place called “Five Forks.” The attack was commanded by Philip Sheridan. He had become Grant’s right hand man in the absence of “Cump” Sherman. For the attack, Sheridan was given all of the US Fifth Army Corps and his own Cavalry Corps. This amounted to 25,000 men. Following his usual practice, Sheridan put Gouverneur Warren’s Fifth Corps on the right to tie down, encircle and grind up the entrenched Confederate infantry. The defenders there were George Pickett’s Virginia Division, and some cavalry under Fitzhugh Lee, about ten thousand men. When he thought the time was right, Sheridan ordered his 10,000 sabers to charge mounted against the extreme right of the Confederate line. They easily broke through and disappeared down the roads that led to the Southside Railroad.

  The next morning Lee informed Jefferson Davis that he could no longer supply his army and would withdraw to the west. He recommended that the government leave Richmond.

  President Lincoln was at Petersburg that day with General Grant. Devereux was present in Lincoln’s entourage. Around mid-day the staff told Grant that the Confederates were leaving their trenches all along the line and disappearing to the west. Reconnaissance was sent forward but except for a few places where they were slowed by rear-guards there was no resistance.

  “What do you think?” Lincoln asked the general-in-chief.

  “It is the end,” Grant replied. “We will pursue him until he runs out of supplies. He will then turn to face us and we will destroy what is left of his army. I outnumber him 2 to 1. Sherman will destroy Johnston’s force down in North Carolina. It is over, or will be shortly…”

  The next day Lincoln walked across the trench lines into Petersburg to see for himself. A sizable body guard went with him. It was not needed. The people of the town had suffered much in the long siege. They stood in the streets and watched Abraham Lincoln pass. They watched in silence.

  On the 4th Lincoln went to visit Richmond. The surrounding Union forces had occupied the city the day before. “Capture” would be too strong a word for what had happened. In truth, the blue army simply walked into the heart of the enemy capital. It was totally undefended. They found that fires had started in the commercial districts. These fires were spreading into the area around the capitol. Within a few hours the US Army was busy fighting the fires.

  Lincoln walked the streets with Devereux and a few other soldiers. They were not sure what the reaction of the people would be. They need not have worried. The majority of white people stayed indoors, accepting the end of a time. There were some who, from conviction or hope of early forgiveness, came to greet him, hat in hand. These were watched closely by the somber men in blue.

  Among the civilians seeking forgiveness was a well-dressed man who started in surprise at the sight of Claude Devereux. Puzzled by this vision, he left the scene uncertain of what might account for Claude’s presence.

  The blacks flocked to Lincoln. They knelt in the street before him to pray, held up their children for his blessing, called him “father” and begged him to care for them. After a time it was too much for Lincoln. He turned back, walking away, seeking his railroad car and return to Washington.

  On the steam boat, Lincoln again pressed Claude for a commitment to return to the U.S. from Europe. He had the papers in his hand that would grant a leave of absence.

  “Of course, Mr. President, I gave you my word…”

  He said goodbye to Abraham Lincoln on the pier in Washington and rode home in an army ambulance that had been among the vehicles waiting for the president’s party.

  The next day was the 5th of April. Claude rose early. He was intent on hurrying the departure of his ship and his family. The “Elizabeth Mayo” waited at a pier in Alexandria for final loading, a fair wind and a favorable tide. He sent word to the master of the vessel to engage a steam tug that could take them down to the Chesapeake Bay.

  Hope announced at breakfast that she did not wish to live in Europe.

  As if a signal had been given, the family and servants left the room.

  “You promised me,” he told her. “You promised me. You are my wife. I will not leave without you.”

  “Take one of the others,” she retorted. “Take Amy, she will follow you onto the boat like a dog. Take her, or take your redheaded whore, your latest.” Her face was red. Her beautiful neck arched like that of a swan. There were tears in her eyes.

  He knew that she wanted to be persuaded. He hated himself for knowing that he could persuade her. “I love you,” he began. “I love only you. The others are signs of my weakness. They mean nothing to me, nothing.” This, of course, was true. “All I want for the rest of my wretched life is to be happy with you in Paris or the house in Deauville. You have always been my special one. I have been such a fool. Please forgive me. Please.” Her color began to return to normal. She patted her eyes dry. “You must never hurt me like this again, never.”

  He saw that he had won.

  At about the same hour, John Wood, a man who had managed a hotel at Ashland, Virginia, entered the newly opened offices of the Union Army provost marshal on Broad Street in Richmond. He waited impatiently for an hour until a captain would listen to him privately. He then told the man that his hotel had contained a wing that had been a major training and dispatch center for the Confederate
secret services. He exaggerated his role to some extent. He hoped that his information would be rewarded by the victors.

  “Interesting,” the captain commented when Wood reached the end of his prepared recitation details. “All very interesting, but that is all over now. Is it not?” The captain was from Vermont. He thought Richmond an exotic place. In walking about the streets the day before, he had seen several young women of various complexions who did not frown or turn from him. He noted the addresses of the houses that they entered and he thought a friendly visit might be a more worthwhile use of his time than talking to this unpleasant and sweating man.

  “Hannibal, what about Hannibal?” Wood asked.

  The captain had read Latin at Dartmouth. “The Carthaginian?” he asked with a small smile. He was trying to think of a graceful way to rid himself of this man.

  “No, the spy, Claude Devereux, I saw him with the president yesterday. He was here with Lincoln. He was dressed as one of your generals…”

  The words did not really “register” at first, but then the captain realized that he knew who Wood meant. He remembered the man who always seemed to be at Lincoln’s side. “Say the name again,” he demanded. “Say it again.”

  “Claude Devereux.”

  “How would you know this?”

  “He was trained at my hotel and I recognized him then. I spoke to him while he was there. There is no doubt. I had a letter from Secretary Benjamin for whom I worked that identified this spy by his nom de guerre, ‘Hannibal.’ It did not give his true name but I recognized him. The family is prominent, and wealthy.”

  The captain took Wood upstairs to the room of another officer who represented Lafayette Baker and the National Detective Bureau. He left Wood in the hallway and went into the room to talk after closing the door behind him. “Know anything about someone called ‘Hannibal’?” he asked.