Grant Comes East cw-2

by Newt Gingrich

  "Yes, we do, sir, but precious few men trained to man them. To begin a formal siege will be an exercise in yet more bloodshed at a time, I would hope, when we both should be looking to stem that flow."

  "There are over seventy guns in Fort McHenry, General Lee," Davis retorted. "Heavy siege guns. If we could seize them intact, they just might be the key to taking Washington."

  "I know that, sir. That was one of the terms, that the guns in Fort McHenry are not to be spiked or damaged. But I think that will be a sticking point It would give us a fort that controls Baltimore and armament that would threaten Washington. Sir, he will not surrender the fort, of that I am all but certain."

  "Then we must storm it and take the guns by force. Their garrison surely cannot be strong enough to withstand you."

  "At a cost of yet thousands more, which we simply cannot afford," Lee replied forcefully. "I lost nearly three hundred more killed and wounded taking this city."

  "A small price."

  "Not if you have General Lee's numbers," Benjamin said quietly.

  Davis nodded reluctantly.

  "The state of the city, General Lee?"

  "Sir, there are still scattered pockets of rioting and looting, but no organized resistance. It should be noted that the retiring Union soldiers behaved with honor and I was more than happy to grant them free passage. Several of their companies, when they realized they would not be taken prisoners, pitched in with helping to contain the rioting and put out the fires. We then escorted them to the north side of the city and set them on their way."

  "Why did you leave the roads to the north open?" Davis asked.

  "Sir, never trap an opponent in a place you want to take. Give them a way out and they will take it. The capture of several thousand more soldiers would have served us little, and in fact burdened us with yet more men needing to be guarded."

  "I understand though that tens of thousands of civilians are fleeing as well, that many of them are escaping slaves."

  Lee said nothing. It was a topic he was hoping to avoid.

  "This newspaper from Philadelphia came through our lines this morning," Lee said, reaching into his dispatch pouch and placing it on the table. The headline proclaimed that the rebel army was looting and burning the city.

  'To be expected."

  "Still, sir, it is not the image we want with the world at this time. We need to show forebearance now." Benjamin cleared his throat

  "I would suggest that we allow some members of the Northern press to enter the city and interview civilians who witnessed the rioting," the secretary of state declared. "There are no real military secrets we need to conceal now. Perhaps, Mr. President, you should agree to an interview as well, to lay out our proposal for peace talks."

  "I'll consider that" Davis replied.

  Davis shifted back to face Lee.

  "But I am disturbed that valuable property is escaping north. These are people that we can put to work helping our cause. Many of them are able-bodied men, and the Yankees will press them into their colored regiments."

  "Sir. There have been a dozen or more incidents of hangings, rape, torture, outright murder in the colored community. I would much rather see those people leave this town than to have the stain of blood on our hands by forcing them to stay."

  "I heard a report that some colored killed white citizens."

  "Yes, only after they were attacked."

  "Nevertheless, that is intolerable."

  "Perhaps intolerable, but I would say intolerable on both sides. Sir, I beg you. Declare an amnesty in this city. It will stand well with the European press and derail the efforts of the Northern press. Declare that all free blacks are to be unmolested as long as they obey martial law. All slaves to stay with their owners."

  "And the contraband, the runaways from Virginia?"

  "I beg you, sir, do nothing about that now."

  Davis looked over at Benjamin, who nodded in agreement with Lee.

  "Let it rest for now, sir. Let it rest To do otherwise will trigger yet more panic and rioting."

  Davis said nothing.

  "The city itself?"

  "I think we can have the fires under control by this evening, as long as Port McHenry and the gunboats do not shell us. We've captured dozens of factories all but intact, including the Abbot Mills. Thousands of colored work in them and we need them to get the mills back in production, yet another reason to go easy on them. There's enough food to sustain our army for months. Thousands of rifles, artillery, powder, shoes-more shoes than we ever dreamed of. I've ordered our quartermaster to take control of one of the printing presses and print up vouchers for all supplies taken. What we have here, on top of the supplies taken at Westminster, can sustain the Army of Northern Virginia clear through the winter."

  "Good, General Lee, very good. Do you see now why taking this city was crucial?"

  "Yes, sir. The question though is how long can we hold it?"

  "Why, until peace is negotiated, General Lee."

  Lee said nothing, hands folded, looking down at the desk.

  "You look distressed, General. What is it?"

  "Sir. It'll take at least two divisions, for the next fortnight, to keep order here until we can turn it back over to a reorganized police force. Ten thousand or more are homeless and it is our Christian duty to give them aid and help find shelter. My army is a field army, not an occupation army. There is still the question of the reports of the Army of the Potomac reorganizing on the Susquehanna and the reports that Grant is mobilizing a force at Harrisburg. I must have the latitude to maneuver with my forces if need be."

  "Baltimore is our key now," Davis replied forcefully. "Mr. Benjamin will reinforce that, won't you, sir?"

  Benjamin nodded reluctantly.

  "I'm preparing dispatches to be given to the French consulate here in Baltimore, outlining our position. We cannot just seize Baltimore, send the dispatches, and withdraw. We must be here for the replies. The factories here can be of incalculable service to our cause. We must hold this city, and perhaps, with the armaments taken, renew the threat on Washington.

  "The political situation is ripe as well. The fall of Baltimore, the third largest city in America, will reverberate across the North as well. I think, General Lee, we are here for the duration."

  "Is there any chance you can get the B amp;O line re-established back over to Harper's Ferry?" Davis asked.

  Lee had never seriously thought of that. It would speed up communications to Richmond and help as well to bring up reinforcements.

  "I don't have the railroad people. I wish I did," Lee replied, "but I will see what I can do. Yet again, it will stretch us. We'll need to garrison key points, draining yet more men, but yes, it would be a great help."

  "If you could open that line all the way back to Winchester, it would mean little more than a day's journey back to Richmond. It would be a major statement as well that Maryland is now firmly linked to our South.

  "The news you gave me this morning from General Hood, that Annapolis has fallen, the governor and his pro-Yankee lackeys in the legislature fleeing to the east shore of Maryland, has set the stage for us. Tomorrow I will call a convention for the establishment of a new state-governing body for Maryland with its capital here in Baltimore, declare the prior state administration as illegal and disbanded, and appoint a provisional governor. It is my intent that within the week this new legislature will declare for the Confederacy. If we do that, General Lee, I can promise you twenty thousand more troops within the month, rallying to defend their home state."

  "Sir, that would be a boon, but nevertheless they will be barely trained militia." "Men, nevertheless." "Yes, sir."

  Lee sat back wearily in his seat All was happening far too fast The city was barely under control; there was the threat that the gunboats and fort might open fire. It was not as easy as Davis wished

  "General Lee," Benjamin interrupted. "I received a most gracious invitation this morning from Rabbi Rothenberg of
the local Jewish congregation. Would you be interested in joining us for dinner? I think your presence would be of interest to him and the congregation, and helpful as well."

  "Me, sir?"

  "You are noted for your piety, sir; a visit with one of the leaders of the Jewish community would be a positive example."

  "Yes, sir. But of course."

  "He has invited us to dine with his family tomorrow night I think you would find him remarkably interesting and the meal more than adequate."

  "If he is a friend of yours, I would be honored to join you," Lee replied.

  Davis looked at the two, obviously wondering for a second as to why he was not invited.

  "The delegation is waiting in the next room?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then let's get started," Davis announced. "This should be most interesting."

  Chapter Twelve

  Richmond, Virginia

  July 23, 1863 6:00pm

  Gen. Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard paced up and down the railroad siding, his anger clearly visible to all who were watching. He pulled out his pocket watch, snapped it open, at least the tenth time he had done so in the last hour, and then snapped it shut.

  "Just where the hell is my damned train?" he snarled, looking at his thoroughly harassed staff.

  "It's coming," one of the staff replied woodenly. "The dispatcher said that once they get the broken switch repaired, it will be here."

  Beauregard looked at the milling crowd of spectators who had gathered at the station to see him off. The afternoon had gotten quite warm, and the group was beginning to thin and drift away.

  The send-off was to have been a grand affair, band playing, troops lining the track, his departure in command of what he already called the Army of Maryland a major social event.

  Troops had been slowly streaming into Richmond for the last week, more than five thousand following him up from Charleston, eight thousand more from garrison duties in North Carolina and south-eastern Virginia, several thousand more dragged in from state militias as far as Georgia. He judged about half of them to be fit for combat; the others were going to have to learn, and damn quickly. The two brigades that had been detached from Pickett prior to the invasion were already up in Winchester, waiting to move forward.

  Except the damn railroads were failing to deliver as promised. Engines were breaking down; sections of track were in such an abysmal state that the trains could barely move at ten miles an hour; the new uniforms and shoes promised by Zebulan Vance of North Carolina had yet to materialize. Again, because of supposed "problems with shipment," no artillery was available, and the remounts for cavalry were one step removed from being converted into rations as an act of compassion.

  Yet still it was his army. He had exulted when the telegram came from Davis, ordering him north, to leave as soon as it was evident that the Union was abandoning the siege of Charleston.

  Technically his rank was equal to Lee's, and while the implication was that his command would constitute a new Third Corps for the Army of Northern Virginia, he just smiled at that assumption. There would be more than enough room in Maryland, both politically and militarily, to assert his own position. His arrival would be seen as that of the savior sent to bring succor to the battered Army of Northern Virginia in its hour of need. He alone of all the generals in the East had faced Grant and knew his ways. That expertise could not be denied, and he would make the most of it.

  The shriek of a whistle interrupted his musings. A lone train was coming around the bend into the station, and on cue the band struck up "Dixie." The crowds, which had been drifting off, came hurrying back, children waving small national flags.

  Wheezing and hissing, the locomotive drifted into the station, behind it three passenger cars for himself and his staff.

  He climbed aboard, remaining on the rear platform of the last car as staff and an escort of a company of infantry scrambled on to the train. It was already more than an hour late, so there was no time for final, lingering farewells. The last man barely aboard, the train lurched, a shudder running through the three cars. The band struck up "Maryland My Maryland," a tune that everyone seemed to be singing these days.

  Striking the proper pose on the back platform, the South's "Little Napoleon" set forth for war in Maryland, the train forcing itself up to ten miles an hour as it left the station, and then settling down to the slow, monotonous pace, railings clicking, cars swaying back and forth on the worn rails and crumbling ballast.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Baltimore

  July 24,1863 8:00 p.m.

  I Hope, General Lee, that you would consider attending our Sabbath day service this Friday. My congregation and I would be honored by your attendance."

  Lee smiled warmly at his host and nodded his thanks.

  "Rabbi, I would indeed be honored."

  "Please, just Samuel, General Lee."

  Lee could not help but respond to this man's natural, warm hospitality. In spite of his preference for formality and tradition in nearly all social occasions, he felt he should let it drop this evening.

  "Then Robert for myself, sir."

  Rabbi Samuel Rothenberg bowed slightly while remaining seated, then offered to refill Lee's glass of wine. Lee motioned for just a small amount to be poured, but the rabbi filled the glass nearly to the brim anyhow.

  "What did you think of dinner, General Lee?" Judah Benjamin asked.

  "Delicious. I'm not paying a false compliment when I declare it is the best meal I've enjoyed since the start of this campaign."

  Judah laughed softly.

  "So we have converted you to kosher cuisine?" "Sir?"

  "Everything tonight was kosher."

  "I am relieved not to have to eat salt pork for once, sir, if that is what you mean."

  "Not in this house, sir," Samuel laughed, holding up his hands in mock horror.

  "Well, sir," Lee grinned, "I wish you could teach our army cooks a few things. I think the Army of Northern Virginia could benefit from a kosher diet."

  The three laughed good-naturedly at his joke.

  As Lee looked over at his host sitting at the head of the table, and his attractive wife at the other end, their two young children sitting wide-eyed and respectful to either side of their mother, he was warmed by the situation. It was a blessing to sit in a friendly home, tastefully decorated, the food well prepared, the host and hostess so congenial, cultured, and well educated.

  The children had been a relaxing pleasure, quickly warming to him when he expressed interest in their studies, and he had sat, fascinated, when the elder of the two recited from the Torah in Hebrew, the boy obviously delighted by the attention, while the younger was beside himself to talk about trains and all the names of the locomotives he had seen. It had been a wondrous pre-dinner diversion and he had insisted that the parents not interfere for, in fact, he was truly enjoying himself.

  Prior to his arrival, under a heavy escort that even now loitered outside, guarding the house, he did have to confess to a slight trepidation over this engagement that Judah had so casually offered him. He had never taken a meal in a practicing Jewish household, and he wasn't sure what to expect The prayer, however, except for no mention of Jesus, was familiar and comfortable to him, drawing on the Psalms. The conversation over dinner was sophisticated, urbane, with the rabbi quickly sharing memories of New York City and his knowledge of military history, which was quite extensive, especially when it came to Napoleon's campaign of 1805.

  The house was appointed with a bit of a Germanic Old World touch to it the rabbi having emigrated from Prussia during the unrest of the 1840s. At times his English did have a slight accent, but his command of his adopted language was superb. He could claim acquaintances with a number of noted personages in America, including several senators, both North and South, and was proud of the literary discussion group that he hosted each month.

  Samuel was fascinated by a poet and short-story teller of whom Lee had heard, a washed-
out cadet from the Point who had attended the Academy shortly after Lee graduated and who had taken to writing tales of the macabre until his premature death from excessive drinking. The rabbi even had one of his original poems, unpublished, which the poet had given him as a thank-you for a weekend's lodging and several meals shortly before his death. The work, "The Nightmare of the Wandering Jew," was interesting, but upon reading it when Samuel showed it to him before dinner, Lee felt it to be somewhat overblown, yet out of politeness he expressed admiration for this rare literary item.

  "Samuel and I go back some years," Judah declared as he accepted his second glass of Madeira. "I tried to convince him to come to Richmond to help me when the war started."

  Samuel laughed and shook his head.

  "Come now, Judah. Two Jews in the Confederate government? Some would say it was an outright conspiracy of our people to take over."

  "Still, you have a sharp mind, Samuel; I could use some of your advice now and again."

  "Such as tonight?" Samuel asked with a smile.

  Judah fell silent and looked over at Lee.

  "I think it is time that you gentlemen excused us," Mrs. Rothenberg announced. "The children need to do their evening studies and then to bed."

  Both instantly raised vocal protests, but, smiling, she rousted them out of their chairs. Lee and Judah stood, both bowing to Mrs. Rothenberg and then taking delight in shaking the hands of the two young boys. One embarrassed both his parents when he blurted out that he wished for General Lee's signature; the other then demanded a keepsake as well. Lee, grinning, pulled out his pocket notebook and addressed a brief note, formally commissioning Lt Gunther Rothenberg to his staff, and then did the same for David. Clutching the notes, the boys bounded off to their rooms; their mother followed.

  "Thank you, Robert, they'll treasure that forever, in fact, our entire family will treasure it."

  "You have sons to be proud of, sir. And I thank God for you that they are still young enough not to be in service. My own boys are a constant source of worry."