James A. Hessler
Page 6
Sculptor James Kelly, who knew Sickles in the postwar years, was less charitable than Twain. Sickles, he wrote, “had a very bumptious air, and talked in a high falsetto voice with a pursing of the lips, an arching of the eyebrows and a tilting of the chin; with an over-articulation of his words, in an effort vulgarians give when they are trying to make the impression that they are very genteel.” Kelly found Sickles “a rather coarse man” and “it is peculiar about a man like that; when they try to appear refined, they become effeminate… when he talks, he talks like a sissy. The same as a girl when she puts on men’s clothes and tries to act like a man. She is apt to overdue it and talk like a randy man.”29
Sissy or not, the one inescapable criticism firmly directed against Sickles is that he was being given increasingly higher levels of responsibility without the commensurate experience. In assessing the performance of “amateurs” such as Dan Sickles, many “professionals” complained that these newcomers lacked the theoretical applications necessary to master the art of warfare. At the tactical level this was probably true, at least initially. There was little in civilian life to prepare Sickles for marching and maneuvering large bodies of troops under fire. It is also true that West Point graduates were more likely to be familiar with Antoine Henry Jomini’s writings, or had studied under the instruction of Dennis Hart Mahan, or had read Henry Halleck’s text Elements of Military Art and Science.
At a practical level, however, the professionals were often as ill-prepared as their new counterparts. The West Point curriculum generally favored topics such as engineering, mathematics, fortification, and army administration over actual strategy and tactics. Except for frontier garrison encounters against Indians, most professional generals had also not seen any combat since the Mexican War, and none of them had executed the large scale offensives of a Chancellorsville or of a Gettysburg. George McClellan was second in his West Point class, which prepared him to be an excellent organizer, but that did not translate into battlefield victories. Conversely, men such as future general-in-chief Nelson Miles performed well on the field but had never attended West Point. As a result, both amateurs and professionals had to adjust to the realities of this new war under fire, and a diligent citizen general such as Sickles could make up for the lack of education by studying his manuals on drill and tactics. Sickles certainly had the mental ability and aggressive spirit to excel as a regimental or brigade commander. But each successive promotion required an increased ability to coordinate and maneuver larger bodies of troops and to act more independently, but in cooperation with the army as a whole. As a result, Sickles’ rapid promotion to division command, and then again to corps leadership, would become his greatest military shortcoming.30
At the battle of Fredericksburg in December 1862, George Stoneman’s Third Corps consisted of David Birney’s First Division, Sickles’ Second Division, and Amiel W. Whipple’s Third Division. First Division commander David Bell Birney was born in Alabama on May 29, 1825. His father, James Birney, a prominent anti-slavery leader, was nominated for president in 1844. The well-educated younger Birney moved to Philadelphia to practice law and became a prominent member of the city. He was active in Philadelphia’s prewar militia, and although his militia unit never assembled for drill or parade, he volunteered its services when Lincoln called for troops in April 1861. The regiment later became the 23rd Pennsylvania (Birney’s Zouaves), and he entered service as their lieutenant colonel. Birney was elevated to brigadier general in February 1862 and received command of a Third Corps brigade in what later became Phil Kearny’s division. At Fair Oaks, Sickles’ battlefield baptism, Heintzelman complained that Birney’s brigade did not advance as directed. After the battle, Heintzelman brought him up on court-martial for disobeying orders. Kearny supported Birney against the charges, and Birney was (in Heintzelman’s words) “honorably acquitted.” When Kearny was killed in September 1862, Birney succeeded him to command of the division. He would lead the organization until the Third Corps was disbanded in 1864.31
Brigadier General David Birney
Library of Congress
History has not always been kind to Birney. Theodore Lyman knew Birney after Gettysburg, and described him as a man “who had many enemies” due primarily to a “cold, covert manner.” Birney was a “pale, Puritanical figure, with a demeanor of unmovable coldness.” Still, Lyman thought Birney’s military advancement well-earned, for “we had few officers who could command 10,000 men as well as he.…I always felt safe when he had the division; it was always well put in and safely handled.” One of Birney’s men thought he could “act as a bust for his own tomb, being utterly destitute of color” and “as expressionless as Dutch cheese.” Gouverneur K. Warren, who could be hot tempered in his own right, claimed that he and Birney once drew swords in an argument over the right of way for their columns. Regis de Trobriand led a brigade under Birney at Gettysburg and became close with the general. De Trobriand considered Birney “a man of ability and education, a gentleman of excellent manners, as well as a distinguished officer.…[He] had inherited the patriotism of his father, but not his political radicalism.” Birney was senior to Sickles in division command, and had a longer resume of combat experience associated with the Third Corps than did Sickles. Birney’s First Division would see more fighting at Fredericksburg, while Sickles again had little action.32
Serving on Sickles’ staff at Fredericksburg was a fledgling young New York attorney named Henry Tremain. The well-educated Tremain was a former lieutenant and regimental adjutant in the 73rd New York. At Fair Oaks, Tremain served as the brigade’s aide-de-camp and acting assistant adjutant-general. It was upon Tremain, Sickles wrote in his report, “whom I relied for nearly all the staff duty in the field throughout the day.” Tremain was captured at Second Bull Run and sent to Libby Prison. Fortunately, he was quickly paroled and returned to service after negotiating a special exchange. He joined Sickles’ staff, and by the time of the Fredericksburg campaign had been promoted to captain. He would continue his affiliation with Sickles and the Third Corps for the remainder of his life.33
At Fredericksburg, Robert E. Lee’s two large corps of infantry under James Longstreet and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson occupied a range of hills and ridges behind the city and guarded crossings along the Rappahannock River. Despite Lee’s strong defensive position, Burnside intended to cross the river and push on toward Richmond. In order to do so, he planned to build bridges across the river at three places—two opposite the city and another about one mile downstream. During the morning of December 12, Sickles was directed to follow George Getty’s Ninth Corps division across the center pontoon bridge. Late in the day, Hooker received orders to send two divisions to support Major General William Franklin’s left wing south of the city. After waiting all afternoon without crossing, Sickles and Birney’s divisions were instead marched downriver shortly before sundown. The night was dark and foggy. As the division bedded down for another cold night, Sickles spent the night walking among the sleeping soldiers. He was “inexpressibly sad,” he later claimed, because he knew that so many young men would “hear the last roll call” before another sunset. He finally wrapped himself in a buffalo robe and fell asleep by a camp fire.34
The battle that opened on the morning of December 13 was launched by Federal troops who had crossed the river the previous day. Relegated to the role of observer, Sickles watched while Federal forces assaulted Lee’s position on the heights and plain beyond the city, which “the enemy occupied in vast force, strengthened by elaborate works and defenses for infantry and artillery.” Sickles and Birney were waiting to support the Union left (Franklin) on the plain south of Fredericksburg while the right wing massed in and about the city before assaulting the heights above them. “The field of battle was veiled,” recalled Sickles, “as on the day before, by mists, made denser by the heavy fire, both of artillery and musketry, now becoming general along the line; yet it was easy to see that on the left we were gaining ground, and on th
e right our troops were gallantly moving up the heights against the enemy’s works.”35
Franklin’s attack force was arrayed to Sickles’ and Birney’s left front, and consisted of three divisions from John Reynolds’ First Corps under Abner Doubleday, John Gibbon, and George Meade. Early that morning, Reynolds informed Meade that his division would have “the honor of leading” the attack from the Federal left against the southern end of Lee’s long line. The objective was a wooded height occupied by Stonewall Jackson’s infantry. Between the Confederate-held heights and the plateau on which Franklin’s Left Grand Division was posted was a depression or hollow several hundred yards long through which Meade’s men would have to pass. “Owing to the wood, nothing could be seen of them,” George Meade wrote, “while all our movements on the cleared ground were exposed to their view.”36
Meade’s attack began around noon. His division advanced several hundred yards and exploited a 500-yard gap between two brigades of A. P. Hill’s division. The thrust smashed into Jackson’s line and caused a rupture that threatened to break the front wide open. Meade’s First Brigade met a severe fire in its front and artillery shells enfiladed its right. John Gibbon’s division had advanced on Meade’s right, but had failed to reach the heights. Meade’s other two brigades followed, but were not in a position to exploit the break or support his exposed position. Meade dispatched staff officers requesting support, but before help could arrive the Confederates counterattacked, hammering Meade on the front and flanks. Like so many Civil War offensives, Meade and Gibbon were driven back in confusion and with heavy loss. By about 2:00 p.m., Reynolds’ attack had failed.37
About 11:30 a.m., before Meade’s attack, Franklin ordered Stoneman to send one of his Third Corps divisions to support Reynolds. Stoneman selected Birney’s division to cross the river, leaving Sickles’ division behind “to hold itself in readiness to cross at a moment’s notice.” Birney reported to Reynolds, who ordered him to deploy his men “in the field in rear of General Meade’s division, as a support to the intended attack.” Stonewall Jackson’s batteries, which commanded the open field, punished Meade, Gibbon, and Birney’s exposed troops. Reynolds ordered Birney to retire, but the move was still underway when Birney received one and perhaps as many as three requests for assistance from Meade. When neither Birney nor Gibbon was able to lend direct assistance to the embattled troops, a furious Meade reportedly rode to the rear, found Birney, and verbally castigated him. Birney, however, was authorized to accept orders from Reynolds, not Meade. Reynolds credited Birney’s arrival “at this critical moment” with saving unsupported Federal artillery. When the Confederates counterattacked in force, Birney’s regiments hit them with a well-directed fire, took some prisoners, and drove Jackson’s infantry back to their starting point.38
Major General George G. Meade
Library of Congress
Shortly after 2:00 p.m., Sickles received orders from Stoneman to also move his division to the front. By the time Sickles arrived, Gibbon’s division appeared to have abandoned the field. Sickles formed two lines on Birney’s right, where the Confederates briefly threatened Sickles’ own right until a combination of sharpshooters and artillery secured the flank. Chaplain Joe Twichell watched a mounted Sickles directing some artillery fire “as unconcernedly as if riding before a plough.” The presence of Birney and Sickles strengthened Reynolds’ line. With the exception of skirmishing and some artillery fire, little of consequence occurred on the Federal left for the remainder of the battle. Meanwhile, on the Union right, Burnside continued with a series of futile assaults against Lee’s strong position atop Marye’s Heights.
Sickles’ men spent the night at their post in the cold darkness, while he and his staff discussed the day’s defeat over a fire. The exhausted Third Corps, like much of the Union army, spent the next two nights lying on the damp field without blankets and exposed to occasional picket fire. Stoneman and Franklin joined Reynolds in praising Birney, whose supporters later pointed out that he was in close proximity to Reynolds, was under Reynolds’ supervision, and received praise (and not censure) from Reynolds himself. Unfortunately, Sickles had not enjoyed a similar opportunity for battlefield honors. The casualties told the story: Birney suffered nearly 1,000 from all causes, compared to Sickles’ 100. Army-wide, the losses told a similar tale. Fredericksburg was an unmitigated disaster. The fighting claimed nearly 13,000 Federals in killed, wounded, captured, and missing, against only 5,300 Confederates. 39
In his report, Meade neither censured nor praised Birney, but he did acknowledge that he had requested Birney’s support early in the attack. Meade later explained that he had asked Birney three times to come to his assistance. Although Meade admitted that Birney arrived “just in time” to get his men out, Meade still thought Birney’s division “might have come up sooner than it did.” Writing privately to his wife on December 16, Meade blamed his failure on a lack of support and the enemy’s strong “redoubts.” Again in private correspondence, this time dated December 30, Meade turned his fire against his friend John Reynolds: “he knows I think he was in some measure responsible for my not being supported on the 13th as he was commanding the corps & had the authority to order up other troops—and it was his business to have seen that I was properly supported.… This is all confidential & for you alone.” (The passage was later omitted from the publication of Meade’s Life and Letters.) It was against Birney that Meade seems to have held the longest grudge. Seventeen months later, long after Reynolds had apparently been forgiven, Meade would tell his wife that he and Birney would “always” have Fredericksburg “between us.”40
This dispute between Meade and Birney may have planted the seeds of animosity between Meade and the Third Corps that blossomed at Gettysburg. Blaming other units for a lack of support was common practice following Civil War battles, but Birney never accepted Meade’s criticism. Birney blamed the fiasco on Franklin for “not sending more troops to the attack.” Nearby divisions, including Sickles’, did not attack “because all of us were under the supervision of officers who [would] not permit it.” A division commander “was a small part of the great army and has to act strictly under orders. I did well and thoroughly all that I was ordered to do.” Birney also admitted that while under fire, he had told a reporter that Meade’s Reserves “might run and be damned.” The heart of the dispute can be boiled down to this: Birney believed he had done all that was ordered, and Meade believed Birney could and should have done more.41
Birney’s law partner later wrote that Birney’s Fredericksburg conduct was often criticized “by officers of the army who had only heard one version of the story, and of comment in social circles, where General Birney and his accusers are both known.…” (Birney and Meade were both Philadelphians.) Criticism of Birney’s Fredericksburg conduct continues to make its unchallenged way into Gettysburg literature today. Regardless of who was in the wrong, the result was that Meade had made an enemy of a prominent general in the Third Corps—and the bitterness may have seeped its way into the ranks. When Meade assumed command of the Army of the Potomac on the eve of Gettysburg, one Third Corps officer wrote that Meade was disliked within the corps, especially by Birney.42
Fredericksburg’s bloody failure led inauspiciously into 1863 for Sickles and the Army of the Potomac. When Burnside was relieved on January 25, Abraham Lincoln promoted Joe Hooker to command the Army of the Potomac. Lincoln told Hooker that he considered him a “brave and skillful soldier,” but the President feared “that the spirit which you have aided to infuse into the Army, of criticising their Commander, and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you.” Charles Benjamin, who occupied positions within the Army and at the War Department, attributed Hooker’s rise to the exertions of influential men “who believed in, and hoped to rise with him.” Benjamin ultimately credited Hooker’s promotion to a faction that was interested in elevating Secretary of the Treasury Salmon P. Chase, a friend of Dan Butterfield, to the presidency.43
One of Hooker’s first orders of business was to settle on his staff. Hooker wanted Brigadier General Charles Stone as his chief of staff, but when Edwin Stanton refused Stone’s appointment, Hooker settled on Dan Butterfield. Butterfield was born in 1831 at Utica, New York, into a prominent family. His father, John Butterfield, was a pioneer in express transportation and a principal founder in what later became the American Express Company. Like Sickles, Butterfield was not a West Pointer. He graduated from Union College, worked for his father, and studied law. Butterfield had been active in the New York militia and mustered into service in May 1861 as colonel of the 12th New York Militia (the same unit in which Sickles had served in the early 1850s). More of an administrator than warrior, in 1862 Butterfield devised a special bugle call for directing brigades in battle, and also turned an old cavalry call into “Taps.” In early 1863, he published a manual entitled Camp & Outpost Duty for Infantry. Appointed a brigadier general of volunteers in September 1861, Butterfield led the Fifth Corps at Fredericksburg. Joshua L. Chamberlain, who had served under him, was once asked if Butterfield was a good soldier. “Yes, he was a fine disciplinarian. In battle he always took his place according to the Army Regulations—300 yards to the rear. I never saw him in at the head of the column or in advance of his line.”44