Dixie Victorious: An Alternate history of the Civil War

by Peter Tsouras

  Today the Confederacy observes its independence on February 8, the date it officially came into existence. Confederate Veterans’ Day, however, falls on April 12, not only to commemorate the firing on Fort Sumter in 1861, but also to honor the victories along the Red River Valley in 1864 that set the stage for the eventual Southern triumph. It is a grateful nation that marks the contributions and leadership of Edmund Kirby Smith and Richard Taylor, two men who transformed a strategic backwater, the Trans-Mississippi Department, into the cockpit of the war.

  The Reality

  The Trans-Mississippi Department never became a theater of decision, but it possessed the potential. While there was little chance of the Confederates successfully projecting any real force across the Mississippi River, redeeming Louisiana, Arkansas or Missouri could have produced calamitous results for the North, especially on the eve of the election of 1864. As for the Red River and Camden campaigns, in both cases the Federals narrowly averted disaster. Porter nearly lost his entire squadron at Alexandria and the Union victory at Pleasant Hill was of the most limited tactical nature and still confirmed to Banks the wisdom of retreating. Finally, Steele came within a hair’s breadth of surrendering his entire corps in the wilds of Arkansas. Such a loss would have left the state open to Rebel redemption. If the South had liberated a state capital in the spring of 1864, the dismay caused in the Republican ranks would have been overwhelming. As for raising new troops, War Department documents in the National Archives show that Shelby raised nearly 4,000 men during and after the Camden campaign, and this while Union occupation still remained. Indeed, all of the events leading up to the Battles at Pleasant Hill and Poison Spring are factual. The alternate history only appears with the sweeping Confederate victory at Pleasant Hill and an altered date for the action at Poison Spring.

  Bibliography

  Anders, Curt, Disaster in Damp Sand: The Red River Expedition (Guild Press of Indiana, Indianapolis, 1997).

  Bearss, Edwin C., Steele’s Retreat from Camden and the Battle of Jenkins’ Ferry (Pioneer Press, Little Rock, 1967).

  Brooksher, William Riley, War along the Bayous: The 1864 Red River Campaign in Louisiana (Brassey’s, London, 1998).

  Hollandsworth, James G., Pretense of Glory: The Life of General Nathaniel P. Banks (Louisiana State University Press, Baton Rouge, 1998).

  Johnson, Ludwell H., Red River Campaign: Politics and Cotton in the Civil War (Johns Hopkins Press, Baltimore, 1958).

  Joiner, Gary Dillard, One Damn Blunder from Beginning to End: The Red River Campaign of 1864 (Scholarly Resources, Wilmington, Delaware, 2003).

  Parks, Joseph H., General Edmund Kirby Smith, C.S.A. (Louisiana University Press, Baton Rouge, 1954).

  Parrish, Michael T., Richard Taylor: Soldier Prince of Dixie (University of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill, 1992).

  Waugh, John C., Sam Bell Maxey and the Confederate Indians (Ryan Place Publishers, Fort Worth, 1995).

  Winters, John D., The Civil War in Louisiana (Louisiana State University Press, Baton Rouge, 1963).

  Notes

  *1.

  Forrest Arnondin, Honor, Duty, Country (Crescent City Press, New Orleans, 1868), pp.137–38.

  *2.

  Terrence Freygan, Richard Taylor: Soldier-Statesman (Innsmouth Press, Boston, 1929), p. 244.

  *3.

  Arnondin, Honor, Duty, Country, p. 166.

  *4.

  Freygan, Richard Taylor, p. 258.

  *5.

  Ibid., p. 266.

  *6.

  Michael Palmer, Beau Sabreur of the Confederacy: The Life and Times of Tom Green (Freedom Press, Philadelphia, 199D, p. 723.

  *7.

  Richard M. Doskey, Memoirs of a Staff Officer (Throne Press, New York, 1884), p. 822.

  *8.

  Arnondin, Honor, Duty, Country, p. 137.

  *9.

  Michael Labranche, My Life as a Right Bower (Pelican Press, Baton Rouge, 1888), p. 314

  *10.

  Freygan, Richard Taylor, p. 758.

  10

  TERRIBLE AS AN ARMY

  WITH BANNERS

  Jubal Early in the

  Shenandoah Valley

  Kevin F. Kiley

  “Arbitrary, cynical, with strong prejudices, he was personally disagreeable; he made few admirers or friends either by his manners or his habits. If he had a tender feeling, he endeavored to conceal it and acted as though he would be ashamed to be detected in doing a kindness; yet many will recall little acts of General Early which prove that his heart was naturally full of loyalty and tenderness.”

  Major Henry Kyd Douglas1

  The Shenandoah Valley, June 13, 1864

  The long, weary, hard-marching column of gray and butternut-clad infantry, heads and bodies bent forward under the weight of their equipment, trudged silently in the dark along the rutted country road to yet another killing ground. The only sounds that could be heard in the long infantry column in the moonlight were the rustle of equipment and the curses of men who tripped and fell in the ruts. Periodically, horses’ shoes, of the few senior officers that were actually still mounted, would strike a rock and send off a few sparks, but that was not remarked upon, as these men were veterans, and a night march was just part of the drill.

  The war had ground on for three years and many tens of thousands dead, the South’s hopes getting grimmer by the month. Yet, these veteran infantry, dirty, ragged, and many barefoot, but with clean weapons and full ammunition pouches, were ready to continue the fight under veteran officers who had no quit in them. The rank and file did not either.

  This was especially true of their commanding officer, Jubal Early. Hard, irascible, ascetic, this tobacco-chewing fighter had nothing of human kindness about him. Not popular, but trusted, he was tough as nails and twice as hard-headed. He was a proven commander and leader, disdainful of his peers and superiors, but known to take good care of his men. He now commanded the II Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia, Jackson’s old command.

  Early was still smarting from the disastrous defeat at Rappahannock Station the previous November. An expert night attack, the first successful one of the war, was launched by crack Federal brigades under Brigadier Generals David Russell and Emory Upton against Old Jube, and had caught him, and one of his brigades, on the defensive in an intricate system of trenches and redoubts protecting a bridgehead along the Rappahannock River. They were not ready, and the position was penetrated, overrun, and captured, along with most of the Confederate troops who could not get away. That included the famous Louisiana Brigade with the Army of Northern Virginia, and it had infuriated the already unfriendly Early, who had sworn vengeance against the hated Northerners.

  Now, seated on his horse on a small rise with his staff, watching the battle-hardened, silent men of his command file past him with that swinging gait that could eat up 20 or 30 miles a day, he spat tobacco juice, nodding to one of his staff to be about his business. As the aide turned his horse and galloped off, Early spat again, raising his head to take the salute of a smart battery of horse artillery as it rumbled past their commander.

  The artillerymen were as ragged as the infantry, but they had somehow kept their traditional red kepis, and all were wearing cavalry boots, acquired from heaven knows where. It was a smart outfit, well turned out and spoiling for a fight. The guns, vehicles, and horse harness were well maintained and clean, the harness gleaming in the moonlight. What was noteworthy was the fine state their horses were in. The good Lord only knew what their battery commander had done to keep their gun teams and mounts in such great condition. The horses were in better physical shape, and much better fed, than the men were, and that included their commanding officer. Their captain was old for his grade, a grizzled, much-wounded veteran, but, like his commander, tough as a cob. These gunners would give a good accounting of themselves, and they did not fear the Union superiority in artillery or the deadly efficiency with which the Yankee gunners practiced their art. They would serve their guns until he
ll froze over, and then fight on the ice. Early had only 40 guns in his little army, but maybe they could get more from the Yankees, perhaps even some of the excellent 3-inch ordnance rifles so especially prized by Southern artillerymen and the most accurate gun of the war.2

  Summer of Crisis

  The South was in a very bad way in the summer of 1864. Gettysburg the previous July had crippled the Army of Northern Virginia; the 25,000 casualties ithad suffered could not be replaced, at least not any time soon. Grant had come east to take command of the Union armies, and his offensive at the beginning of the campaigning season of 1864 had been one continuous battle after another with Lee in the horrific terrain of Northern Virginia that was mostly forest and scrub, and truthfully dubbed the Wilderness.3

  Unlike the other Union commanders that Lee had faced, this one did not quit after one defeat or draw, and continued the campaign without regard to losses or setbacks. Grant could replace the casualties suffered in the campaign, though perhaps not the experienced troops and officers, but Lee could only get weaker. The Confederacy was at the bottom of the manpower barrel, and it was beginning to tell in the field armies.

  The Shenandoah Valley was, quite literally, the breadbasket of the South. It was also a sword pointed at Washington. It was a natural invasion route from the South into Northern territory, running southwest to northeast, but it was not a reciprocal route. Moving up the Valley towards Washington, any Southern force came out of the Valley in a position to do damage in a variety of strategic ways. A Northern force exiting the southern end of the Valley found itself in the middle of nowhere.

  However, the Valley itself was a strategic prize to be controlled. Its fertile fields and harvests fed the Army of Northern Virginia and supplied food to the Southern populace. Whoever controlled it could control the destiny of the Confederacy. The North had tried it before in 1862, only to be defeated and its troops routed by the elusive, brilliant, and somewhat unorthodox Thomas Jackson, nicknamed Stonewall.4 They would tried again in the summer of 1864 in order to support Grant and Meade against Lee.

  The Southern commanders that summer in the Valley, led by tough, capable Major General John C. Breckinridge, though outnumbered, held the Yankees generally at bay, but Union numbers were beginning to tell. Breckinridge defeated the first Union force sent against him commanded by Major General Franz Sigel, a political general employed mainly for his ability to enlist German immigrants. A dedicated man, but an incompetent general, he was replaced by the department commander, Major General David Hunter, by Grant’s order. Hunter ruthlessly and efficiently laid waste to the Valley, ably seconded by commanders such as Brigadier Generals George Crook and William Averell. They ranged down the Valley and generally had it their own way until the advent of Jubal Early and the II Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia, who chased them out, once again claiming the entire Shenandoah for the Confederacy.

  Grant now sent one of his western generals, Phil Sheridan, the new commander of the newly-formed Cavalry Corps of the Army of the Potomac, into the Valley with enough cavalry and two infantry corps to clear the Valley and then to lay waste to it when the last Confederates were either killed, captured, or driven out. However, his primary mission was to find, fight, and destroy Jubal Early and his army.

  Council Of War

  Robert E. Lee had more up his sleeve than just sending Early into the Valley to help hold it for the South. He suggested to President Davis that there be a meeting of Davis, Joe Johnston, the Southern commander facing Sherman in Georgia, and himself in Richmond. Dangerous it might be, pulling commanders away from their armies in the middle of campaigns, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Besides, what do you have capable subordinates for anyway? Davis agreed, and ordered Johnston temporarily north.

  As Early’s veterans were tramping up the Valley to meet the Yankees, the three men met at the President’s mansion in Richmond. What Lee proposed to the two men was this: It was obvious to all that Johnston could not stop Sherman and Lee would eventually lose to Grant and Meade. The odds were too long, and there were virtually no replacements left in the South. Davis and Johnston nodded agreement. What could be done, though, was to achieve local superiority in the Valley under Early, attempt to take Washington and influence the coming United States presidential election. It was the only chance they had of a negotiated peace. They could not match Northern industrial might and manpower on the battlefield any longer. They were bleeding to death.

  It was decided to detach Major General Patrick Cleburne’s division, plus supporting artillery and cavalry, from Johnston’s army facing Sherman, and, as secretly as possible, send itnorth into the Valley to join Early. Cleburne was a more than capable commander, who was smart enough both to take care of himself and his command, and to do what the irascible Early wanted done. A competent, cantankerous Irishman, Cleburne was one of the most respected commanders in the western armies. Further, the currently unemployed General D.H. Hill, one of the best combat generals in the Confederate Army, would be attached to Early and given a command as the opportunity arose. With such fighting subordinates such as Hill, John Gordon (who was already in Early’s command), and Cleburne, and the numerical superiority this transfer of troops from the west would give, the chance of a decisive victory in the Valley would increase. It was really their only hope.

  This bold strategic decision would leave Johnston severely short of veteran troops. However, if they did not do something, they were going to lose for sure. It was a calculated risk all three men agreed was worth taking. It was akin to the decision Lee and Jackson came to at Chancellorsville the year before. Planning boldly, the three men knew this was the South’s last chance. If it did not work, they were dead in the water. If it did, it could lead to a negotiated peace and independence. Johnston would have to fight and delay the best hecould. Every effort would be made to scrape up every available man, horse, and gun to replace the veterans that Cleburne would take north, but north they would go. If they did not win in the Valley it would not matter what Johnston had, Sherman was going to beat him anyway and they all knew it.

  Both Hill and Cleburne might have a problem working with and for Early. Hill had resigned after Antietam, both for health reasons and for feeling somewhat unappreciated by Lee. He had also been blamed for the famous “lost order” recovered by McClellan before Antietam, which could have been, and almost was, the undoing of the Army of Northern Virginia. Against a more aggressive commander than McClellan, itwould have spelled disaster and quite possibly the end of the war. Bitter over his treatment and the promotion of officers he believed less capable than he, and with a bona fide physical problem (he had chronic, and sometimes severe back pain), Hill had resigned and gone home. Lee, realizing that Hill would be invaluable in the coming operation, both because he was one of the best combat generals in the army and he had operated in the Valley in 1862, would send a trusted officer to talk to him. The fate of his country, to use a well-worn cliché, definitely hung in the balance, and he would listen. Cleburne would be convinced to swallow his pride and get on with it. He had a hard time with his superiors, and he was as ambitious and aggressive as they came, but he was an outstanding combat leader who also took good care of his men. Early would have to be carefully handled, but, if necessary, Lee would talk to him personally, even though it would be difficult to get Early to come out of the Valley for a meeting. While Early had been a difficult subordinate all these years, he had always done as Lee had asked.

  Lastly, word would be sent to John Mosby, the successful partisan, to cooperate fully with Early’s army. Mosby could be very useful to Early, providing deep intelligence and raiding along the Federal line of communications and generally causing hate and discontent in the Union rear. The forces the Yankees would have to send to deal with Mosby, especially cavalry, would be much missed elsewhere. Additionally, garrisons along the line of communications and in Federal depots would have to be strengthened and established if necessary.5

  The
three grimly desperate men agreed to the plan, with the hope that the troop transfer would be complete by mid-July, if not sooner. If they could catch the Yankees napping on this one, perhaps they had a chance. If not, nothing would be lost anyway. The meeting broke up, the two generals hastened back to their commands, and Davis summoned his staff to issue the necessary orders. It appeared that the Yankees held all the cards—a full house, while Lee, Johnston, and Davis were betting on a pair of fives.

  Into The Valley Of Death

  While the plans for Early’s reinforcement were being made, along with the orders to have the plans come to fruition, Old Jube was taking his small army up the Valley to search for and destroy the enemy. Hunter’s troops, under such commanders as Crook and Averell, as well as the French cavalryman Brigadier General Alfred Napoleon Alexander Duffie and his talented artillery commander Captain Henry DuPont, of the wealthy DuPont family of Delaware, were making themselves decidedly unpopular amongst the population of the Shenandoah. Crook commanded the VIII Corps, Brigadier General William Emory the XIX Corps. Both of these able commanders were capable of thinking on their feet, but their superior, Hunter, was not. A thorough pedant and marplot, he was not a competent independent commander and definitely met his match in Jubal Early. However, the Confederates were badly outnumbered, and even the considerable skills of Breckinridge and the hard-bitten cavalryman John Imboden, could not make up for lack of numbers. Before Early’s arival in the valley, the Confederates were scraping the bottom of the manpower barrel, having to field the cadets of the Virginia Military Institute who distinguished themselves at the Battle of New Market on May 15. By skillful fighting and maneuvering, Hunter, and such dubious subordinates as Franz Sigel, were kept from winning decisively, Hunter bumbling his way into obtuseness.6