Grant Comes East cw-2

by Newt Gingrich

  "Go on, General Scales," Lee said politely.

  "Sir, as you know, I was there today and saw it all. My men, sir, they did everything humanly possible, beyond humanly possible. They stormed through six rows of abatis, waded a moat, charged a muddy slope, and finally took Fort Stevens. We lost two divisions just doing that, and now it, too, is back in their hands.

  "I actually thought that after two hours of firing, the garrison inside would run out of ammunition. I looked in one of their bunkers once the fort was taken, sir; they could have kept up that rate of fire with canister alone for another three or four hours, and with shell and solid shot for the rest of the day.

  "Sir, taking those forts is pitting mere human flesh against earthworks and steel. Maybe if we had a hundred thousand more men, and, God forgive us, the cruelty to use them without thought or compassion, we could do it, but I for one, sir, could not give such an order ever again."

  "I agree, General," Lee said softly. "I will not order such an assault, ever again, unless I am certain that the sacrifice is worth the final reward."

  Stuart started to raise an objection, but Lee's tone indicated that this line of debate was finished. The attack on Washington was over.

  He could see though that what he had just admitted was that the raison d'etre of the entire campaign was now in question and he could not leave it there.

  "If we had reinforcements, and with them the proper equipment to conduct a successful siege, only then would I now consider it. We took the gamble, we did our best, but things have come out against us."

  A gloom settled over the group.

  "I cannot believe," Hood finally interjected, "that to withdraw back to Virginia is our only remaining option."

  Grateful for the comment, Lee nodded for Hood to continue.

  "That would be the ultimate admission of defeat. All our people's hopes coming out of our triumph at Union Mills will be dashed if we now turn our men south, especially after this defeat. The Yankee press will crow that we've been turned back without hope of ever returning. It will give them time as well to rebuild the Army of the Potomac once more and to combine it with Grant's new force. I think, sir, if you do that now, you will lose the war."

  "I agree," Stuart announced and there were nods around the table.

  "We have good supplies here," Hood said. "If we can maintain ourselves here through the fall harvest, it will give all of Virginia, especially the valley, time to recover and then, if need be, support us through the winter and following spring. We still have a good stockpile of ordnance supplies taken from Union Mills as well, so there is no concern for that at the moment."

  "Our numbers though," Longstreet said, and his words dampened the first sign of renewed vigor.

  "Go on, General Longstreet."

  "As we already discussed, we are down to roughly thirty thousand men in the infantry. We know that on the Yankee side thirty thousand or more are, or shortly will be, in Washington. Though we might scoff at them now, the Army of the Potomac will rebuild. Perhaps as many as thirty thousand got out and are somewhere north of the Susquehanna. They are undoubtedly funneling men into that army even as we speak. And then there is Grant. He is bringing in troops as well. We might very well be facing a hundred to a hundred and fifty thousand in fairly short order."

  "Grant?" Hood snapped. "An amateur from the West compared to the caliber of what we have here in the East. At this moment, I think McClellan would be a bigger threat."

  "An amateur who defeated Johnston and then took Vicksburg? I wouldn't call the victor of Pillow, Donelson, Pittsburgh Landing, and Vicksburg an amateur, General Hood," Lee commented.

  "It will be months before he can marshal a force capable of meeting us," Hood pressed.

  "General Hood, they brought up troops from Charleston in a matter of days. What is to prevent them from bringing troops to Grant from as far afield as Texas, Florida, or even his own army from Vicksburg, battle-hardened men fresh from a major victory?"

  "That would strip every other front clean," Stuart replied, coming to Hood's support

  "This is the only front that matters now," Longstreet countered. "If we take back the Mississippi, New Orleans, and all of Kentucky, what does it matter if this army is defeated and, by logical deduction, Richmond then falls?"

  "Then we take it to the hills, the mountains, and down into the deep south until they finally give up."

  "A dozen or more years, is that it?" Longstreet snapped.

  "Gentlemen," Lee interjected, extending both hands in a calming gesture.

  The arguing generals looked to him.

  "Both of you are right. We must be concerned about this Grant, the potential that he can form around him another army. But I do not see that happening tomorrow, or even in a month. We still have time to consider that when the time comes. Let us hold ourselves to the immediate, to our concerns of tonight and the next few days."

  Hood and Longstreet gazed at each other and then looked back to Lee.

  They both nodded in reply.

  "I think, gentlemen, that we have some sense of things this evening. We cannot storm Washington, nor is retreat back to Virginia a viable choice."

  No one raised an objection.

  "Then let us rest our men in place tomorrow. General Longstreet, pass the word back to your corps to stop where they are on the road. General Stuart, continue to observe their lines to either flank; if something remarkable develops we will of course act on it, but by that I mean they all but abandon their lines. I do not want you to bring on any sort of general engagement without my direct orders."

  He shifted and looked over at his aide.

  "Colonel Taylor, meet with our medical staff and see to arrangements for the proper evacuation of our wounded.

  General Stuart, you will have to detail off at least two or three regiments to escort our injured back to Virginia. The truce along this front lasts till dawn and I expect all to observe that Colonel Taylor, at dawn I want a letter to be sent to General Heintzelman extending my thanks for his courtesy. If need be, we might ask for a truce till noon but we'll decide that in the morning."

  He looked around at the gathering.

  "Any other questions?"

  "Sir," Hood pressed. "I understand that we have decided to stay in Maryland, but to what end now, sir?"

  Lee sat back with a sigh. In truth he simply didn't know. Ever since crossing the Potomac he had moved with the next goal clearly in sight, first to find the Army of the Potomac and position it on suitable ground for a decisive blow. After that to try and take Washington. That had been decided this day.

  What next? Hold in place and hope they attack? They would be fools to do so until their strength was again overwhelming. Pull back up into central Maryland, toward Frederick perhaps? That would significantly shorten his lines of communication, but for the moment that was not a major concern. The windfall at Westminster, and the richness of the surrounding farmlands, could support them right into early autumn. Try for Baltimore? It would extend him, widening his flank to the north, and leave in his rear a gathering enemy strength in Washington. His instinct of the moment was to draw back toward Frederick, but he was not yet ready to give that order.

  He could not decide that tonight, not after this bitter day.

  "We'll talk again at dusk tomorrow, gentlemen," was all he could say. "I think we all need a day of rest."

  One by one they saluted and stepped away from the table. He could see that Pete wanted to continue the conversation, but a gentle shake of his head was signal enough. Pete saluted and withdrew until finally only Walter was left

  "Sir, your bed is ready," Walter said. "May I suggest some sleep."

  "In a little while, Walter."

  Walter made as if to argue. The general touched his aide lightly on the arm.

  "I think, Walter, I'm going to order you to bed. You can see to your duties before dawn."

  "Yes, sir."

  Walter knew better than to press the issue. He tou
ched the brim of his hat and withdrew.

  Alone, at least as alone as he could ever be with this army, Lee sat back down but then, after a restless moment, he stood up and walked out of the grove. The ever-present troopers who served as his escort stirred.

  "Just walking," Lee said. "Stay off your mounts, let them rest at least"

  A sergeant with the detail saluted, called for a dozen men, but then kept them back at a respectful distance.

  Lee slowly walked up the slope. The tangled grass, brambles, and corn had all been trampled down in the assault, the debris making his footing somewhat difficult As he went along he could see dozens, perhaps a hundred or more lanterns, now pale and ghostlike in the light mist that was rising, ambulance crews and stretcher parties sweeping the ground for the fallen.

  In the faint glow of starlight he finally saw the outline of the fort, easy to pick out by the lanterns atop it, several signal flares sputtering on the breastworks, casting a sharp, metallic light.

  He could hear distant moans, cries, a hysterical shriek, "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" He lowered his head.

  "Merciful God, forgive me my many faults," he whispered. "Grant repose to those who fell here this day. Grant peace to the families of the fallen, and lay Your gentle hand of peace upon those who suffer this night Forgive us, Oh Lord, for what we have done to each other this day. Amen."

  He looked back up at the fort Beyond it he could see the unfinished dome of the Capitol, the lights of the city. For a moment he wondered if a more distant light was the front porch of his own home, but knew that was fanciful illusion, though the thought of it caused his eyes to sting. He turned and walked away.

  Fort Stevens

  July 18,1863 11:45 p.m.

  Lincoln slowed his pace as he walked into the fort. Now he was seeing it up close for the first time. Torches flickered on the parade ground, which had been turned into a temporary hospital, the men waiting for the ambulances that would take them back into the city and out of harm's way if the battle should resume tomorrow.

  It was a enamel house, thick with the stench of torn flesh, vomit, excrement, gun smoke, with the faint whiff of ether and chloroform. He wanted to shut out the sound of a surgeon at work, taking a man's leg off, operating on a rough plank set up on sawhorses right out in the open, two assistants holding lanterns to either side of him.

  He spared a quick glance; the surgeon did not even see him, so intent was he on his work, struggling to loop a string of catgut around a hemorrhaging artery. A male nurse, middle-aged, white-flecked beard, was beside the surgeon, ready to hand over more looped strings of ligatures. The man looked somehow familiar, and their eyes met It was the poet he had heard so much about and read. The poet smiled, and the gesture was strange until he realized it was a look of encouragement, an almost fatherly gaze. Lincoln nodded and turned away, fearful that if he actually saw the operation in its entirety, the leg dropping off, he would become ill.

  He carefully stepped around the wounded, most of them so preoccupied with their personal hells that they did not know who was walking past them. To the east side of the parade ground there was a long row of still forms, the dead; a couple of orderlies staggered by, carrying a body away from where the wounded were spread out. They dropped the body and went back, walking slowly.

  He saw a knot of officers gathered on the parapet, and approached. One of them turned, whispered, and the others came about, coming to attention. He recognized Heintzelman in the middle of the group, arm in a sling.

  He had not held much confidence in this man, and still had doubts as to his fitness to manage an independent command, but Heintzelman had proven in the moment of crisis that he had courage, personally going back in to lead the countercharge, getting wounded in the process.

  Heintzelman fumbled for a second to salute, grimaced, letting his right arm drop back into the sling, and then saluted with his left hand as Lincoln carefully ascended the steps to the gun platform where the officers were gathered around the thirty-pounder.

  "They're still out there, bringing in their wounded," Heintzelman said.

  The president didn't need to be told. The ground before him at first glance looked like a summer meadow covered with fireflies. The lanterns swung back and forth, bobbing up and down, some not moving, resting on the ground, casting enough light to reveal a stretcher-team bending over to pick up their burden. Ambulances were lined up alongside a row of torches, men being lifted into the back. Cries of anguish echoed across the field.

  Bright flares were set along the top of the fortress wall, illuminating the moat below and the wall of the fort. Men were sloshing through the muck, pulling out bodies, dragging them up the opposite slope.

  "Sir, perhaps it's not wise for you to be this close. Those are rebs working out there," Heintzelman whispered.

  A bit surprised, Lincoln suddenly realized they were indeed rebels, not thirty feet away, moving like ghosts in the dark. One was humming a hymn, "Rock of Ages," as he helped to pull a wounded man up out of the moat. But his hymn was all but drowned out by the low, murmuring cries, sounding like the damned trapped in the eternal pit below.

  "I'm safe here," Lincoln replied softly. "General Lee is scrupulous about a truce, his men will honor it"

  "Sir, I took the liberty of loaning them twenty ambulances with teams; they were short"

  "Short?"

  "One of their doctors told one of my staff that their army was bogged down on the roads, leaving all their baggage and nearly all their artillery behind. The ambulances were left behind as well. They only had a few dozen with them."

  "It was right of you to do so, General."

  It was an interesting bit of intelligence, explaining perhaps why they had not attacked with more strength.

  "I also sent over several wagons of medical supplies. We've got warehouses full of ether, bandages, medicine; I just couldn't stand to see brave boys like those out there suffering needlessly now that they are out of the fight"

  Surprised, Lincoln looked over at the general and nodded his approval.

  "You did the proper thing, General, and I thank you."

  He stood silent and no one dared to interrupt.

  "If they want more time after dawn, do not hesitate to give it to them. The same stands for ambulances and medical supplies. I will not have wounded men out there suffering."

  "Yes, sir," Heintzelman lowered his head, "and thank you, sir."

  "Thank you?"

  "This morning, sir. What you did on the road. The entire army is talking about it."

  Lincoln felt himself flush. He had done nothing out of the ordinary and he was still a bit shocked by the terror he had felt when the enemy battle line came into sight, flags held high, that terrible screaming yell resounding. Certainly his three months in the militia years ago had not prepared him for this moment of crisis and the overwhelming emotions that came with it. That was play soldiering. This was the real thing. It was not just terror for himself, but terror as well that here was the ending of it, that he had lost the war, that the republic would be forever sundered, and centuries of division, woe, and yet more war were now the fate of this world.

  He had hardly been able to think of anything else, even as the reinforcements stormed up the road, deployed, and then struck with such terrible fury, losing a third of their numbers, but hitting with such ferocity that the enemy attack had faltered and withdrawn.

  He started to turn and leave but then recognized a diminutive officer standing at the edge of the group. He approached, the officer stiffening, saluting. Lincoln extended his hand.

  "Shaw, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Mr. President."

  "I know your parents."

  "Yes, sir, they are honored to have your acquaintance."

  "As I am now honored to have yours, Colonel. Your men were magnificent this day. The entire nation shall know of them."

  "Thank you, sir, but we were just one regiment out of many who did their duty here today."

  He
could sense that the other officers were watching. Some might be jealous of the attention, but Shaw's words had the proper diplomatic effect and he could see a couple of the generals behind Shaw nodding with approval.

  "Your men proved something today, Shaw. In this time of crisis I hope we can raise a hundred thousand men of color in short order. Your example will open that way."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Once the crisis of this-moment has passed, Shaw, I'd like you and several of your enlisted men to visit me in the White House."

  Shaw grinned.

  "An honor, sir."

  "I will confess to being exhausted tonight. I might forget this invitation, so please send a messenger to the White House. Have him ask for Mr. Hay, and an appointment will be made."

  "Thank you, Mr. President"

  Lincoln lightly took his hand, shook it, and then left the gun position. He could hear the chatter behind him, one of the generals offering Shaw a cigar, telling him that he was certainly the "trump card" tonight.

  As he stepped off the ladder, the horror was again before him. Half a dozen ambulances were lined up, stretcher-bearers swinging their loads in, four men to an ambulance on stretchers, one or two lightly wounded sitting up and riding the buckboard, another upright wounded man forward on the seat with the driver. As the ambulances jostled into motion, cries and groans erupted. Men who had struggled so hard to hide their pain as they believed soldiers should, once inside the confines of the ambulance and concealed by the canvas walls, could at last give voice to their pain-and most did.

  He took his hat off, watching as the ambulances moved out of the sally port. "Mr. President." He turned. It was the poet "Yes?"

  "Mr. President, I was just helping a boy. He saw you come in and asked to speak with you. He says his ma knows your family."

  The escort of cavalry that had trailed behind him at a respectful distance came in a bit closer. A lieutenant, who had replaced the young captain who was now dead, tried to interrupt