Grant Comes East cw-2

by Newt Gingrich

  He remembered his old friend, killed at Union Mills, his journal still in his haversack. How together they had marched off two years ago, two boys ardent for some desperate glory, believing that it would be over by Christmas and they'd come home heroes. His friend was dead, buried in some mass grave in front of Union Mills, and now he stood here, looking at the Capitol dome, so close and yet such an infinity of death away.

  "Maybe those six heavy guns will start something," Brown opined. "I just pray to God it doesn't mean we go in against that fort again."

  "Amen to that, sir, amen to that."

  Washington, D.C. The White House

  August 15,1863 3:00 p.m.

  President Lincoln turned away from the window and looked back at his Cabinet. Another thumping sound struck the windowpane, rattling it, all else in the room silent.

  The bombardment had been going on since dawn, every two to three minutes another salvo, deeper-sounding than the fire of the previous weeks, clearly the pounding of heavy artillery against Fort Stevens. At night the sky to the north flashed and glowed from the bombardment, civilians out in the street, gathering in small knots, looking expectantly northward, talking nervously.

  The city had been under siege for nearly a month and the strain was showing in every face. Every day rumors swept the city that the rebs had broken through, were falling back, had crossed the Susquehanna, had retreated back to Virginia, that renewed riots were sweeping the cities of the North, that France had declared war… and throughout it all he had learned to remain calm, sphinx-like, detached from both the rumors and the emotions.

  He returned to his chair and sat down. Beside him Stanton rustled some papers and Lincoln nodded for him to continue.

  "As I was saying, Mr. President. It appears that General Lee is advancing on Washington with his entire army now reinforced with the men brought north by Beauregard."

  "And you anticipate an attack?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "How soon?"

  "Within two to three days. Their siege batteries are giving an unmerciful pounding to Fort Stevens."

  "How unmerciful?" Gideon Welles, secretary of the navy, asked.

  "Several guns have been dismounted." Welles sniffed derisively.

  "Edwin, modem weapons simply are not effective against well-dug-in positions. Fort Pulaski in front of Savannah proved that older masonry forts are vulnerable to rifled guns, but a heavy earthen position, you can waste twenty tons of powder and shell against it, and in a single night a regiment of engineers armed with shovels can make it right again. I think we are overreacting."

  "I beg to differ," Stanton sniffed.

  "Gentlemen, we've conducted a dozen such operations with the navy since the start of this war, and always the situation favors the defenders," Welles replied forcefully. "Until someone comes up with a new way of attacking or a new explosive that can level forts like Stevens, this is an exercise in futility, and I don't see General Lee engaging in such futility."

  "So why would he bother then?" Stanton replied heatedly.

  Lincoln held out his hand for silence. "Gentlemen, we are at the crisis," he announced. Gideon Welles smiled and nodded in agreement "Indulge me for a moment please," Lincoln continued. No one spoke.

  He settled back in his chair, tempted to put his feet up but in such a formal setting that was of course impossible.

  "Some thought that Gettysburg and Union Mills were the crisis, but I realize now that they were not. Terrible as those four days were, they were but the opening of the first act in the confrontation that will decide this war.

  "Yes, the Army of the Potomac was savaged in that fight, and God forgive us, ten thousand or more families will forever mourn those terrible days, but that was not the confrontation that would decide this crisis. It is now, this day and the next month, that will decide it."

  "Sir. There might very well be seventy thousand or more rebel troops just outside the city this morning," Stanton announced. "In that I agree with you, the crisis has arrived, but I must beg to ask, what do you propose to do?"

  "Nothing."

  Stanton, flustered, set the papers he was holding back down on the table.

  "We have forty-three thousand troops in the city, nearly a third of them well-seasoned veterans from Charleston. Frankly, if they can't hold the city, then I would venture to say we don't deserve to hold this city or win this war."

  Gideon smiled in agreement.

  "And those men are backed up by a dozen ironclad gunboats, a thousand marines, and three thousand sailors," the secretary of the navy threw in.

  "And I still maintain that we should shift the Nineteenth Corps down here," Stanton replied heatedly. "They are doing nothing but lounging about up on the Susquehanna and I don't see Grant using them to any effect."

  "I queried General Grant about their use in my last letter," Lincoln replied calmly, "and he said he preferred to keep them under his direct command. Gentlemen, I will not gainsay our new commander of the armies on this issue."

  Stanton started to open his mouth to speak, but a sidelong look from Lincoln stilled him.

  "That is final," Lincoln said softly.

  Stanton nodded, crestfallen at this near-public rebuke.

  "Anything else? I'd like to go up to Stevens to have a look around and then to the hospitals."

  "Mr. President, the French," Secretary of State Seward said. "Go on."

  "We know for a fact that the French consul in Baltimore sent a report out under a French flag. It should be in Paris by now."

  "Wish we had that ocean telegraph line up," Welles interjected. "I'd love to know what is happening over there today. Perhaps the dispatching of some of our ships to the coast of France as a show of force might be required."

  "I would advise against that at the moment," Seward replied. "It would only serve to provoke."

  "Provoke, is it? He's the one meddling in Mexico. The English and French are helping to keep the Confederacy alive. Talk about a provocation!"

  "Go on, Mr. Seward," Lincoln interrupted.

  "Sir, I think we'll be at war with France by autumn," the secretary of state replied.

  "How so? All based on one letter?"

  "The news for Napoleon from Mexico has not been good. He thought he could seize the country in a quick coup and then put his puppet on the throne. Part of his or his wife's dream of a renewed Catholic empire. A mad delusion, but it has gained a following in France and Austria. The campaign has not gone well. Juarez, though still bruised, at this moment is gaining strength in the back country and within a year, two at most, he will be ready to counterattack in strength. Especially if we can help him. Napoleon must see, at least from his reasoning, that if ever there is a hope for him in the New World, it is now, this moment. Union Mills and Baltimore will give him the pretext to recognize the Confederacy, and I suspect he will do it."

  "Napoleon's half-mad," Stanton sniffed.

  "We all know that," Seward replied.

  "Where will he intervene then?" Lincoln asked. 'Texas?"

  "That would be my assumption. I don't see them trying a main force attack on the blockade at Charleston or Wilmington. I would venture at Brownsville, right at the border. First land some heavy guns on the Mexican side and establish fortifications. Then the main fleet moves in to engage ours. There'll be the usual claim of a provocation of some sort. Once Brownsville is secured, they'll try to roll our blockading force off the coast, clear up to New Orleans. For the French, a so-called liberation of New Orleans would have a special symbolic meaning as well, having once been French territory."

  Lincoln turned to Gideon.

  "Your response?"

  "I'd love nothing more. Rear Admiral Farragut's job is done on the Mississippi, though he'll need to hold some forces at New Orleans to support the weakened garrison there. But we could have him shift down to Texas now. Some of our new oceangoing monitors and ironclads could move down there as well. I doubt if the French would risk their new ironclads on a tr
ansoceanic voyage. If not, our navy could pound theirs to splinters. Once that was finished, I'd love to see a blockading force off Le Havre."

  Lincoln smiled.

  "One thing at a time, Gideon. First, all our efforts must be to win this war. Second, to block the French if they should be so foolish as to join in. And, Mr. Seward, the English?"

  "Still the same, as I said before. The sticking point is still slavery. That, and frankly, if I were the English, I'd love nothing more than to see the French make that sort of foolish mistake. We keep the war out of European waters, bloody the French noses here in ours, and it weakens Napoleon at no cost to the English. I say, let them come, and the English will stand back. Besides, they don't want to risk Canada, or some of their holdings in the Caribbean, which we would most certainly move on if they should try to challenge us. No, the English will stand clear, unless the campaign of the next month presents them with a foregone conclusion."

  Lincoln nodded approvingly.

  "Insightful as always, thank you."

  Again the windowpanes rattled and all looked up.

  "I still don't like our loss of Port Hudson," Stanton grumbled.

  Lincoln nodded. Word had just arrived this morning of that reversal on the Mississippi. Such setbacks were to be expected with the concentration of forces here in the East.

  "What good will it do them?" he replied. "They can't ship supplies across the Mississippi. Our navy will continue to patrol the river."

  "Still, to have taken that ground and then lost it."

  Lincoln, feeling exasperated, lowered his head, not letting the outburst come.

  He had learned that as well in recent weeks. To concentrate solely on what was of the moment, and what would win this campaign and, from that, the war. Grant had impressed that upon him. Hundreds of thousands of troops had been used up these last two years in scattered operations that in the long term might bring results, but as of this moment were nothing but wasted efforts. So what if Port Hudson fell back into enemy hands? The statement had already been made that, so willing, the Union could take the entire Mississippi basin and do it again. A thrust by a desperate force might for the moment look fancy in the newspapers, but better for the Confederacy if those ten thousand men involved were here, in front of Washington, or at least moving to contain Sherman, who continued to sweep through Tennessee, bent on linking up with Rosecrans.

  As for this defense of Washington, the panic of the previous month had faded. Food moved freely up the Potomac, as did troops. Gideon's brown-water navy moved up and down the river at will. There had been some concern that Lee might try to cut down to the east, to place Alexandria under bombardment, but again it was Gideon who pointed out that half a dozen Columbiads could do little, and to move his forces in that direction would place him twenty miles farther away from Baltimore, from Sickles, and from Grant.

  Heintzelman had also been in a bit of a panic over that threat Lincoln had said nothing, but his patience was indeed wearing thin with the man. His last dispatch to Grant had expressed that, and he sensed that when the time came, Grant would address that problem as well.

  The Cabinet started to talk among themselves again, used now to his silent lapses, filling the space until he bestirred himself again.

  Finally he looked up.

  "Gentlemen, I think that is all for today. If Lee should launch an all-out assault, I will call for you to discuss the situation, but I seriously doubt that will happen now. Yet again I must caution you. Calmness, gentlemen, calmness at all times. Remember, how we act is observed by others. If we should appear rattled, it would spread like a flash throughout the city, and we do not want that Regardless of what the newspapers say, what Congress says, what anyone says, it is our example at this moment that will set the mood for this city. Go about your business as usual."

  The group stood up to take their leave. Lincoln made eye contact with Stanton and nodded for him to stay. The secretary of war came over to the chair by Lincoln's side and sat down as the others left, several of them looking back, curious as to what might transpire.

  Lincoln smiled, trying to set him at ease.

  "I'll come straight to the point, Edwin. I feel you do not like our General Grant and his plans."

  The secretary of war ruffled slightly.

  "Honestly, Mr. President, I don't He is taking a risk here."

  "Edwin, it has always been you who told me war is risk."

  "Yes, sir. But to risk the capital? Twenty thousand more men in this city would secure it beyond all doubt."

  "I do not want Washington secure beyond all doubt," Lincoln replied calmly.

  "Sir?"

  "Just that"

  "I don't follow you."

  "Ever watch a cat in the barn, sitting on a beam, waiting for a mouse?"

  "No, sir," Edwin replied coolly. Obviously he was not one to appreciate Lincoln's homespun examples.

  "He only sits there because he thinks he can get the mouse. If there were no mouse, he would not stay." "Sir?"

  "We're the mouse, Edwin. If Lee did not feel that he had some hope of taking this city, he would not be here. That is what we want. Heaven forbid if after all this, come autumn, Lee withdraws back into Virginia. He will escape, having savaged the Army of the Potomac. He might even detach Longstreet or Hood to regain the situation in Tennessee. And then we face another long, hard campaign next spring. Given the reversal at Union Mills, if we face a protracted campaign next year, I daresay that you, I, the whole kit and caboodle, will be out come next November. Our political opponents, both North and South, see that now.

  "In the South they are hoping for a victory by the end of autumn. They thought they might have had it on that terrible night of July 4, but we stayed the course. Grant and that railroad man Haupt have worked a miracle across the last five weeks. Now we must continue to stay the course. We have shown Lee that even if he defeats an army, it does not mean he has won the war.

  "The days of single great victories deciding wars are forever over. War now is the will of nations, of ordinary people. Granted, few in the North fully endorse our efforts. Many would rather walk away, but as long as we can hold but a quarter of the populace to our side, as long as we can hold four hundred thousand patriots in our ranks, we can prevail. But that means risk as well, and I'm willing to gamble Washington for that chance."

  "Has Grant shared his thoughts with you?" Stanton replied sharply.

  "Not fully. He was willing to, but I told him I trusted his judgment.

  "As long as he holds the trust I've given him, I will leave him to do his job unless he obviously fails. Our job at the moment is to take the heat. If some senators want to run off, half-cocked, crying about defeat, let them. And let us hope that come next election, after we have won, their cries are remembered."

  "If there is a next election."

  Lincoln raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  "There is the smell of Napoleonism around Grant," Stanton said sharply. "He keeps his own counsel. He has followers in the ranks that are too worshipful. I prefer to know what he is doing."

  "Edwin. Say that about McClellan or even Hooker, and I might have listened. But not Grant. He is as common as prairie dirt. The same as me."

  Lincoln chuckled softly at the analogy, and Stanton did not reply.

  "I will ask you a direct question, Edwin, and will only ask it once."

  "Sir?" There was a slight nervous tone to his voice.

  "Will you support me, and will you support Grant to the utmost in the weeks to come? The crisis is upon us. In the next six weeks we shall either win or lose this war. There can be no half measures. General Lee is a formidable foe. He might not follow at all the path we assume. He rarely does. If Lee should at least hold even in the coming battles, or even escape back into Virginia, there to present a strong front yet again, I fear that the defeat at Union Mills, and what Seward has told us about France, might collapse our political base once and for all. It might prove to be impossible to sustain the
fight come next spring, and the bitter harvest of death that more fighting will create. So, my friend, will you support me?"

  Edwin sighed.

  "Of course, sir."

  "Good then."

  Lincoln studied him carefully. The look in his eyes, the flat crease of his lips-he wondered what Edwin might say later to Seward. But at least he had wrung out of him this concession of the moment Though he did not voice it, nor would he voice it to anyone, he had reached a decision about

  Stanton: Either he fully supported the campaign to come, or he was out of a job, no matter what political heat that might generate.

  The windowpanes rattled yet again from the bombardment, and neither man spoke.

  Along the Susquehanna

  August 15, 1863 7:30 p.m.

  The coup had gone flawlessly. A dozen of his troopers, posing as farmers driving cattle, accompanied by several patriotic young women of Baltimore dressed in homespun and acting like frightened young wives, had come to the southwest bank of the river in mid-afternoon. They had signaled the ferryman on the opposite shore, who had, at first, refused to cross over. One of the men had then swum the river, and, gaining the northern bank, had offered the man five dollars in gold to help save their cattle from the "damn rebels." The man had complied and, once on the southern bank, was confronted by a dozen grinning troopers with revolvers.

  The first dozen went across, seized a second ferryboat, and by dusk an entire regiment was across the river, fanning out, setting up a cordon. A third ferry had been seized as well, which even now was bringing over a battery of horse artillery.

  Wade Hampton, standing on the north bank of the Susquehanna River, was filled with pride. His boys had pulled it off without a shot being fired. Even now, the town of Lancaster, but a dozen miles away, was unaware of what would come sweeping down upon them by dawn, a full brigade of Confederate cavalry, hell-bent on raiding, disrupting, and sowing panic.

  The campaign was on again, and after the bucolic three weeks in Baltimore he was eager for the fight His orders from General Lee personally had been clear and concise.

  They were no longer in need of supplies, Maryland had yielded up her bounty to them, and the lean, hungry Army of Northern 'Virginia was a thing of the past. His job, first and foremost, was intelligence, to ascertain what exactly Grant was up to in the Harrisburg area. Was it merely a marshaling area, or was it to be a platform for him to try and sweep down the Cumberland Valley, and perhaps march on into Virginia? Next task for him would be their old adversary, the Army of the Potomac. It was time to rattle them yet again, a task he looked forward to with pleasure. Finding the location of the powerful Nineteenth Corps was high on the priority list as well. If they were with Grant, that would indicate much as to the possible Union actions. If not, it would mean they could support a renewed thrust by the Army of the Potomac. Though there was the chance now, with Lee marching toward Washington, that the Yankees, always in panic over their capital, would ship that corps down there by water to reinforce the defenses of Washington. Finally, Lee had emphasized his role of disruption, to cut telegraph lines, to spread rumors, and to work to isolate Sickles from Grant.