Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  At Drewry’s Bluff the plan simply was to take the offensive on the Confederate left and cut off Butler’s army from its base at Bermuda Hundred. While Ransom was directing this attack, Hoke was to demonstrate on the Confederate right and hold the Federals there so they could not send reinforcements to the assailed Federal right. When the Union right was broken, Hoke was to advance. Colquitt’s two brigades would constitute the reserve. Whiting was to advance at daylight on the sixteenth to Port Walthall Junction and wait there until he heard the sound of the engagement. Then he was to fall on the flank or rear of the Federals.

  At 4:45 A.M. on May 16, Ransom began the advance of his four brigades, only one of which was under a general officer. Fog delayed and confused, but in about an hour Ransom’s men carried the first line of Federal fortifications. Five stands of colors, a brigadier general, and about 400 other prisoners fell into their hands. It was an encouraging start but it had been costly. Visibility was at zero. When Ransom heard that Hoke’s left was being driven back, he started his troops ahead again. Under brigade officers who did not know how to handle them, they drifted to a halt in confusion. Hagood’s brigade captured five guns and overran a section of the outer lines, but it and Hoke’s other brigades, in the face of a hot fire, were soon stalemated as well.

  At 8 o’clock, while the Confederate left was idle and only Hagood and Bushrod Johnson were in close action, the sound of firing was heard from the south, the direction of Whiting’s expected advance. The noise continued for a time and then died away. Beauregard took this to mean that Whiting was advancing against little or no opposition. In expectation of his arrival, Beauregard decided not to order Ransom to resume the offensive on the left. In fact, the movement to cut off Butler from his base had yielded little ground, a few guns, and some hundreds of prisoners and then had come to a halt in the face of stiff resistance. Thus it developed that Whiting’s cooperative movement, which had been a minor part of the plan, grew in importance with the passage of the hours until it became the contingency on which success was believed to hang.

  The noon hour passed and brought no change of any importance, no news of Whiting’s arrival. At 1:45, while President Davis and General Beauregard were standing on the works, the long-awaited sound of renewed firing was heard from the direction of Whiting’s advance. “Ah, at last!” said Davis with a smile. They waited till hopeful seconds lengthened to doubting minutes. Not another sound came from the south or southwest. Beauregard concluded that Confederate cavalry, not Whiting’s infantry, was responsible for the firing. There came heavy rain, and darkness approached. “It was deemed imprudent to attack,” said Beauregard. He had to content himself with his 5 captured colors, his 5 guns, and his 1,388 prisoners as compensation for 2,506 casualties.34

  The next morning brought to Beauregard Felix a measure of his old good luck. He discovered that Butler had retreated to the Bermuda Hundred lines where, it soon developed, the Federal commander was “corked” as if in a bottle. To Beauregard came also, that May 17, Whiting’s two brigades from Petersburg. They arrived with ranks full and men in condition for battle, but they were under the informal command of Harvey Hill, not of Chase Whiting.

  Behind the change of commanders was a strange, strange story. On the morning of the sixteenth, in obedience to orders, Wise’s and Martin’s brigades had assembled for the advance from Petersburg. Whiting rode with them, and had D. H. Hill at his side as counselor. When enemy pickets were flushed near Port Walthall Junction, Whiting asked Hill to take charge of the advance while he watched the right. With all his old combativeness, Hill maneuvered Wise’s troops and soon had the enemy in rapid withdrawal. A few minutes later, to his amazement, he found the Confederates in a withdrawal. To his inquiry, Whiting said that he had received no message from Beauregard, that the enemy was threatening him, that the sound of firing from Drewry’s Bluff was not heavy. He had been instructed to advance when the firing was heavy. This was not. Beauregard might be ending his fight. Petersburg might be in danger.

  The two brigades fell back to Swift Creek in a wretched tangle of wagons and troops, artillery and ambulances. “Feeling that I could accomplish nothing more,” said a disgusted Harvey Hill, “I retired to Dunlop’s house….” At 7:15 P.M., in reply to a message from Beauregard, Whiting said tersely, “Too late for action on my part.” Subsequently he added, “My personal presence was absolutely required in Petersburg, and … I hoped to be able to join the general readily on the 17th.” The next day, for the march to Drewry’s Bluff, Whiting relinquished command to Hill after Wise and Martin expressed “dissatisfaction … with my movements and orders of the preceding day.”

  The reason, in the judgment of the army, was that Whiting was drunk. This was the conclusion of Henry A. Wise, who was near him several times during the day. Harvey Hill, on the other hand, reported that he “saw no evidence of alleged intoxication.” In his own behalf, Whiting certified on his honor that he drank nothing except water and coffee. Nobody seems to have reasoned that Whiting may have given the full explanation when he said that he had not rested from the time of his arrival in Petersburg on the thirteenth. He may have been the type, wholly familiar in war, that loses through prolonged loss of sleep all grip on the mental faculties.35

  Whiting immediately asked to be relieved and, when Harvey Hill temporarily was assigned to command his scratch division, prepared to resume his station at Wilmington. Beauregard in his report said only that Whiting’s “premature halt” before obstacles that should not have deterred the column from Petersburg was one of the reasons the “more glorious results” of the victory were lost. For Whiting’s failure none of the responsible leaders blamed Beauregard, but some felt that in an effort to execute a spectacular coup, he had neglected the sure way to success, which they held to be that of bringing Whiting to Drewry’s Bluff early so that the united superior forces could fall on Butler and destroy the Union army. For his part, Old Bory’s self-confidence did not appear to be shaken in the slightest. He was convinced now, as always, of his rightness as a tactician and as a strategist. In a swiftly changing crisis, he already had new plans for his own army and for Lee’s which now was moving from the battleground of Spotsylvania.36

  CHAPTER 32

  New Fronts, New Battles

  1

  THE END OF THE OLD ORGANIZATION

  On the bloody front where Lee’s lieutenants had faced Grant for almost a fortnight it was apparent by the morning of May 21 that the Federals had undertaken another side-slip. Again they were trying to get between Richmond and the Army of Northern Virginia. The next line of defense appeared to be the North Anna River, twenty-three miles north of Richmond. On the deep bank of that river the Southerners would have good prospect of repulsing any direct attack, and from the North Anna, if the enemy sought to assail Richmond from the northeast, the Southern divisions could be shifted readily to the Pamunkey.

  The departure from Spotsylvania was executed cleanly, with no loss and little straggling. The corps commanders were entitled to a credit for this, because two of them scarcely were able to discharge their duties. Powell Hill probably had reported for duty too soon after his illness. Ewell managed to ride with his men, though his collapse was apprehended by Lee. Only Anderson, the least experienced of the three, remained in good physical condition.

  On the North Anna the Confederates had a few hours of rest and then, on May 23, repelled an attack on their left. The task of beating off the Federals fell on Hill’s men and principally on Wilcox’s division, which sustained 642 casualties. Lee had been assailed by an intestinal ailment that had the usual effect of sharpening his temper and shaking his control of it. Never, said his staff, was he so difficult as during a sickness. When he rode to the front of the corps and saw what had happened, he gave Powell Hill what was, perhaps, the stiffest rebuke ever administered to any of his general officers during the war. “Why,” Lee demanded, “did you not do as Jackson would have done—thrown your whole force upon those people and dri
ven them back?” Hill had no answer. If the question had been put by Jackson, there might have been a scene. Against Lee’s judgment, no matter how unfavorable, Hill never protested.1

  For the disappointment of this affair there were two compensations. The first was the arrival of the only reinforcements the army had received, except for Robert D. Johnston’s brigade, since the opening of the campaign. Pickett’s division returned and found a place temporarily with the Third Corps. Hoke’s old brigade was reassigned to Early’s division. John C. Breckinridge had defeated Sigel and moved to Lee from the Shenandoah Valley with two brigades. For the time being, these troops were placed directly under Lee’s orders. In the aggregate, the three commands counted about 8,000 muskets. The second, if momentary, compensation was a succession of Federal maneuvers that left one wing of Grant’s army more vulnerable to assault than at any time since the opening of the campaign. But Lee was too sick to direct the attack. Had Jackson been alive or Longstreet unwounded, either of them could have handled the operation. As it was, Lee did not even attempt to deputize one of his corps commanders to make the effort. All he could do was to say from his cot, “We must strike them a blow—we must never let them pass us again—we must strike them a blow.”2

  On May 27 the Union army was once more marching by its left flank in the hope of getting between Lee and Richmond. This time it was manifest that the shift would bring the Federals embarrassingly close to the defenses of the Confederate capital. If it was possible, the enemy must be defeated before warfare became stationary. The alternative Lee soon was to state in grim words to Jubal Early: “We must destroy this army of Grant’s before he gets to James River. If he gets there it will become a siege, and then it will be a mere question of time.”3

  To catch a numerically superior adversary on the march or in some situation favorable to an attack, every general officer had to be ready to strike instantly. This, unhappily, was more than the stricken command could hope to be. By the worst of fortune, while Lee himself was ill, Ewell was stricken with an acute intestinal malady. On the twenty-seventh, the day the new Federal movement began, he was so ill that he had to ask Early to handle the corps. This was not unexpected at army headquarters. For months Lee had been uneasy about Ewell, who recklessly slept on the ground and exerted himself ceaselessly. In his place Early could serve, but it was dangerous business to be changing officers ceaselessly while critical operations were in progress! Ewell became so prostrated that the Second Corps had to be put formally under Early’s command. Ewell was given indefinite leave that he might have the benefit of rest and medical treatment. Characteristically, he declined to avail himself of this leave. He was resolved to remain with his men and, to the limit of his strength, to discharge his duties.4

  By May 29, with superlative care, in spite of his sickness, Lee disposed the three corps where they covered all the approaches to Richmond from the Pamunkey, which Grant was expected to cross. A forced reconnaissance that day by the cavalry, in which the green 4th and 5th South Carolina valiantly experienced their baptism of fire, revealed that Grant was crossing his infantry as well as his cavalry. Indications were, in addition, that Butler was releasing troops from his “bottle” at Bermuda Hundred and reinforcing the Army of the Potomac. The first suggestion of this transfer reached Lee’s headquarters in a Northern newspaper. Butler’s two corps, it was said in a Washington dispatch, would be called to service with Grant because “they are not strong enough to take Richmond, and too strong to be kept idle.” Beauregard was best placed to observe any withdrawal from his front. He believed the enemy at Bermuda Hundred might have sent 4,000 troops to Grant, but he did not think the situation justified any diminution of his own command.

  This opinion was contrary to Beauregard’s most recent exercise in theoretical strategy. He had proposed that if the Army of Northern Virginia would retire to the Chickahominy, he would detach 15,000 men, join Breckinridge, fall on Grant’s flank, and, while Lee attacked in front, destroy the Army of the Potomac. Then Butler could be overwhelmed. Until that time, he could not release more than 5,000 men to reinforce Lee’s army. Lee reasoned that if the Army of Northern Virginia could not resist Grant, the forces under Beauregard and the Richmond garrison could not save the city. Cooperation, Lee thought, was demanded immediately. On the evening of May 29, Beauregard came to field headquarters to review the situation. As always graciously courteous, he maintained that his force could not be reduced further without creating more danger for Richmond than was averted. When he left, it was manifest at headquarters that the Army of Northern Virginia would have to fight without assistance from the south side of the James.5

  On the thirtieth the crisis was heightened. All the indications were that Grant once more was extending his left. The Army of Northern Virginia had not received as reinforcements more than half as many soldiers as it had lost. Lengthening of line, therefore, meant that unless Beauregard sent aid, parts of the Confederate line would be so stripped that they could not be held safely. The one hope was to strike the enemy hard enough to halt him. An opening seemed to be offered the Second Corps near Bethesda Church. Early was given discretion to develop the opportunity. He did so, head on, without proper reconnaissance or coordination with the First Corps. The result was a bloody repulse. After Early’s failure, it was safe to assume that Grant would extend his left as far as fitted his plan. Because of the roads meeting at Cold Harbor, that familiar village seemed a logical objective. In addition, there was reason to believe that a large part of Butler’s troops would reach Grant’s left. The Confederate front might be broken where the momentum of the attack might carry the Federals into the streets of Richmond.

  Representations of Beauregard still were such that the War Department hesitated to issue an order for the detachment of part of his men to assist the Army of Northern Virginia. Lee made a direct appeal to Beauregard and was refused, leaving him no recourse except the President. At 7:30 P.M., May 30, he telegraphed Davis that “this delay” in sending him troops from Beauregard’s command “will be disaster…. Hoke’s division, at least, should be with me by light tomorrow.” Never had such a message as that come to the President from Lee. Often the general had said that this evil might occur, or that he feared possible calamity from such and such a mistake. Here the language contained no reservation, no proviso. Davis lost no time. He and Bragg agreed that Hoke and his 7,000 men must be sent immediately to Lee. The order to Beauregard was peremptory: “By direction of the President,” Bragg began, “you will send Hoke’s division, which you reported ready, immediately….”6

  This was the pistol shot that started Hoke’s lean men in a race to overtake the troops from Butler that had been sent to Grant. By 11:30 A.M. of the twenty-ninth, four Federal divisions—nearly 16,000 infantry, with sixteen field guns—were embarked at Bermuda Hundred. Twenty-four hours later, May 30, they began to disembark at White House, sixteen miles by road from Cold Harbor. Early the next morning, May 31, Hoke received his first train and started Clingman’s brigade at 5:15. By rail and road, Hoke had eighteen miles to go. The odds were against him.

  To hold the crossroads of Cold Harbor until Hoke’s arrival, the cavalry of Fitz Lee had been posted. Clingman with Hoke’s van came, but so did the Federals and in strength sufficient to drive him and Fitz Lee’s troopers from the crossroads. Lee, the senior, was not willing to leave the village to the enemy. He decided to anticipate the Federals, if he could, and roll up their flank. This decision showed characteristically his innate daring. Now that even 7,000 muskets were to be added to his force, Lee shifted at once from defense to offense. Anderson was to side-slip to the right until he touched the left of Hoke, whose division would be in position before daylight. Anderson attacked early on the morning of June 1. In the first encounter, Kershaw’s old brigade was led by the inexperienced colonel of the 20th South Carolina, Lawrence M. Keitt. He was a man of high political and social distinction in his state but had seen little action. Now, in his first battle, he rode reckl
essly forward. His regiment broke. In an effort to rally it Keitt fell mortally wounded. The panic spread to other units of the brigade. Anderson’s advance came quickly to a halt. Hoke’s men did virtually nothing in what had been expected to be a general attack.7

  After their repulse that morning, June 1, the Confederates began to put between them and the enemy every tin cup of dirt that could be scraped from the loamy soil. It was well that they sensed danger. After protracted delays—more than twenty-four hours at White House—and misdirections, the Federal troops from Bermuda Hundred at last reached Cold Harbor, and at 4:00 P.M. launched a furious attack in company with the VI Corps. They pushed the assault until they separated Anderson’s right and Hoke’s left; but the labor of the midday hours had piled the dirt high enough to stop the Federals before they penetrated far. Narrowly, Lee’s lieutenants had saved their flank and, probably, their capital.8

  On the second of June the center of action shifted toward Cold Harbor. Confederate troops were moved there and placed still farther to the right until, at nightfall, Wilcox’s division was within half a mile of the Chickahominy. The chief distresses of an anxious day were the wounding of James H. Lane and the death of George Doles, one of the best brigadiers of Rodes’s division, indeed, of the Second Corps. In these operations, with exhausting efforts and dark risks, the movements of the enemy were completely anticipated.