Stonewall Goes West: A Novel of The Civil War and What Might Have Been (Stonewall Goes West Trilogy)

by Thomas, R. E.

  With the review over and the bulk of the Army of the Tennessee drawn up on the plain, Davis went to the podium to deliver the expected speech. Many in the army were too far away to hear him, but the speech had already been printed, and would be distributed around the camps by suppertime.

  All gave the President their attention as he struck his points: that the Southern states had the inalienable right to secede from the Union; that the Yankees were responsible for this war and all its hardships, for it was they who invaded Southern homes, burned Southern crops and insulted Southern women; that the Confederacy wished only to go its own way and to be left in peace; that it was they, and not the Northron, who were the true heirs of the hallowed Revolution; that the war was being fought to secure the rights of that Revolution, not slavery; that the North had an immeasurably more difficult task, to subdue a free people and occupy a vast country; and that if the Southron only stood firm in defiance, the war would most certainly be won.

  Jackson studied Davis closely, for this was the first time he had ever heard the President speak. In the past, he had assumed Davis was just another politician, and considered most politicians a gang of charlatans, parasites, scoundrels and harlots, attracted by a profession that gave great rewards to men who were willing to say or do anything, and say or do it loudly. There were exceptions, of course, such as Congressman Alexander Boetler and Virginia Governor John Letcher, or the past, great presidents like Washington, Jefferson and Madison. Yet these were few, and for much of the war Jackson had not counted Davis among them.

  That began to change after taking this command. Following Lee’s advice, Jackson scrupulously kept Davis informed of everything he did, flooding the wire with reports. Whenever time permitted, such as with his dearly desired promotion of Stewart, he asked for Davis’s opinion or presented him with options. And Jackson came to see that Davis was an honorable man who returned respect with respect, loyalty with loyalty, even when it cost him, as it undoubtedly had in Jackson’s clashes with the Commissary Department and Joe Brown.

  Jackson had heard many such speeches as the one Davis delivered, almost always coming from men who could be serving in the field and weren’t; who had served, but left in a huff over some matter of rank and status; men who held their pride, lands and slaves dearer than their liberty. Davis was clearly not one of them. You only had to listen to the man to know he believed every single word, Jackson thought. Here was a man who would never surrender, never submit, never give in. Never.

  Davis reached his peroration, and the Army of the Tennessee cheered him. Jackson clapped loudly, sprang to his feet and extended his hand to Davis. “Thank you, Mr. President. Thank you.”

  Seeing Old Jack and the President shaking hands only caused the troops to cheer louder. Visibly taken aback, Davis stammered “You’re welcome, General. You are most welcome.”

  Riding back to Jackson’s headquarters tent village, Davis thought he had much to be pleased with in Jackson. His reaction to Sherman’s raid of a month ago was a model for how Davis had always wanted things handled in the West: prompt action combined with due deference to Richmond. If shaking the military administration of Georgia to the roots had caused Davis no end of political headaches, he at least felt consoled in the results produced. Even Lee’s army in faraway Virginia was eating a little better because of it.

  Davis was so pleased that he made a point of saying so when they reached Jackson’s headquarters. “I commend you on the state of your army, General Jackson. To these old eyes, no army has exhibited such high morale since Caesar’s Gallic legions. You have worked wonders here. The nation will have cause to thank you for it all soon, of that I am sure, as I thank you now.”

  Jackson said softly “You are welcome, Mr. President, but thanks for my part are unnecessary. Thanks should be paid to the Almighty. Any gratitude after that goes to the men themselves, and the staff I have been so greatly blessed with.”

  Davis dismounted, declaring “Well said, sir. Well said.”

  Jackson dismounted, and upon entering his tent, he offered the President hot lime water. “My staff was able to procure some honey, and the limes from the coastal regions. I fear no lemons were available.”

  Davis nodded his assent. “Of course,” he said, thinking lime water was a strange idea, never mind hot lime water, but he was too polite to refuse.

  Jackson poured Davis and himself a cup, and the two men sat down.

  “Mr. President, now that we are face to face, allow me to express my sincere apologies on rejecting the offensive plan submitted to me by yourself and General Bragg,” Jackson began. “But my study of the circumstances of this army, the enemy strength and the topography of this country led me to conclude it was not feasible.”

  Davis nodded. “Yes. Your memorandum was quite specific, and your subsequent reports buttressed your case quite clearly.”

  Davis and Bragg had proposed that Jackson, reinforced by a division from Polk’s force in Alabama and a division from Beauregard in the Carolinas, join Longstreet’s Corps in East Tennessee and with a combined army of over 70,000, invade Middle Tennessee and perhaps even Kentucky. Jackson had demurred, insisting that East Tennessee was a desert for an army, he could not live off the land there, and in winter it lacked even the sparsest vegetation for his animals. According to a report filed later by Jackson’s quartermaster, Harman, the army would need an additional 900 wagons and 3,000 mules to carry all the necessary supplies for the effort. Even then, the necessity of having to take such a ponderous wagon train over the mountain roads would prevent the rapid movements necessary for success.

  There had been two features of Jackson’s rejection of the plan that had mollified Davis. First was the disclaimer that Jackson would see to it the wagons were built and the plan attempted anyway, but only if the 3,000 mules could be procured, hinting that he could find those necessary mules from the state of Georgia, were he given a free hand to requisition them. The other was that Jackson insisted that Lee would have need of Longstreet’s Corps before long, so it should not factor into any offensive planning for the West. Davis could not recall even Robert E. Lee refusing the offer of a large body of reinforcements for the sake of a different department.

  Davis might have been less mollified if he had known Jackson did not want Longstreet because he feared Old Peter’s jealousy and resentment might make him impossible to work with. Jackson had kept that to himself, however.

  “So, General Jackson, I take it you invited me out here to present a plan of your own devising? The plan you promised in December?”

  Jackson nodded. “Yes, yes. If you will recall my reports on the Federal strength, you know that George Thomas has an army of three corps in and about Chattanooga; James B. McPherson has a strong corps in northeastern Alabama; and John Schofield has a corps, mostly of green recruits, in Knoxville. In aggregate, this force must number at least 110,000 strong, much more than double my own strength, but at this moment it is spread out over a distance of some 200 miles. It is my intention to take advantage of that dispersion by misdirecting the enemy, rapidly concentrate against one part of his host, smash it before they can launch their own offensive, and defeat them in detail.”

  “That was part of the plan laid by General Bragg and myself, to march against Knoxville.”

  Jackson nodded. “I recognize that, sir. As you know, we lack the transportation to move directly on East Tennessee, but my greatest concern is not the need to carry every biscuit and bale of hay. I am convinced that even were the transportation available, Schofield would retreat beyond our grasp before we could trap him. Celerity in those mountains, in this weather, and with a long wagon train is all but impossible, and without celerity we cannot achieve surprise. Without surprise, the endeavor must certainly fail.”

  “Then what do you propose instead?” Davis asked.

  “To shift the corps of Hood and Stewart by rail to Selma, join with Polk, and invade Middle Tennessee directly. Once there, to destroy McPherson’s Corp
s and get astride Sherman’s supply lines into Chattanooga. To pry Thomas and perhaps Schofield out of East Tennessee, defeat them as well, and affect the liberation of Middle and East Tennessee.”

  Jackson’s reply was so matter-of-fact, Davis was not sure he had heard it correctly. “I beg your pardon? How is removing more than half your army from before Atlanta more practicable than a direct invasion of East Tennessee?”

  Assuming the patient, methodical tone he used many times in the classroom at VMI, Jackson said “The movement will rely on the railroad, at least as far as Selma. Based on the experience garnered from dispatching Cheatham’s Division to Demopolis a month ago, my staff has drawn up a plan for shipping the two corps, plus the artillery, wagons and part of the necessary supplies. We can complete the move to Selma in three weeks.”

  Davis caught on. “You have known you wanted to do this for a month now!”

  Jackson nodded. “Yessir. I wanted to study the matter thoroughly before submitting it to you.”

  “That is all very well and good, but I still cannot see how this is any better. If your intention is to attack McPherson, won’t he retreat back on Thomas? And if surprise is so important, just how do you intend to keep the movement of two army corps a secret?

  “Confusion and misdirection, Mr. President. And for that, I require your assistance.”

  Davis said cautiously “Go on.”

  “I forwarded to you a plan from General Polk, requesting that I reinforce him with one army corps for a raid on Middle Tennessee. I disapproved it.”

  Davis nodded. “Yes.” He had also received the plan separately from General Polk, but there was no need for Jackson to know of that. Davis did not approve of Polk’s campaign proposal either, and he knew Jackson was touchy on the matter of all communications with the War Department passing through his headquarters.

  “I want you to give your blessing to Polk’s plan, and more to the point, I want you to publicly announce your approval of it as soon as possible, and ensure the details of the plan appear in the Atlanta and Richmond papers.”

  “The enemy will receive all manner of reports from their spies,” Jackson said, practically spitting on the last word. While Jackson had much use for spies himself, he detested any Southern man who spied for the enemy as the vilest, most cowardly form of traitor. “I will do everything in my power to obfuscate those reports, for I want the only clear reports reaching Yankee ears to be the ones coming from the halls of the Capitol. When the enemy hears from Georgia that I have sent one division, two divisions, four divisions or my entire army to Polk, I want them reading about Polk’s plan in the papers and from their spies.”

  Davis saw the virtues of it, because he could imagine how such a scheme might work on his own people. If Lincoln, Grant, Halleck, Sherman and the rest were expecting Jackson to send troops to Polk, and for Polk to mount a raid, they might discount those reports from Georgia that conflicted with that expectation. He knew from his own experience that intelligence reports rarely agreed on anything when it came to enemy intentions or troop numbers, and deducing what the enemy was up to and in what strength was all a matter of educated guesswork. As he thought it over, he wondered if such a bit of legerdemain might not fool him as well.

  “So when you march from Selma, they will think you are Polk, and have only two army corps instead of three. And that is what will keep McPherson from falling back on Thomas?”

  “If Providence wills it, sir. I expect they will send McPherson to intercept the raid, rather than allow it to advance into Middle Tennessee.”

  “And when do you propose to start?”

  Jackson smiled. “As soon as you order me to send an army corps to Polk.”

  CHAPTER 6

  March 24

  Early morning

  Headquarters, Army of Tennessee

  Dalton, Georgia

  Jackson set the papers down on his desk, and turned to face his officers. “Satisfactory, Sandie. Harman. Satisfactory. Three weeks to move Hood and Stewart to Selma. Put it into action. At once.”

  Harman and Sandie grinned. “Satisfactory” was high praise in Jackson’s army. The two men were pale and bleary-eyed, having worked through the night to put the finishing touches on their plan, but excited nonetheless.

  Rising from his seat slowly, Harman half-stretched his tired body as he came to attention. Shorn of sleep as he was, his eyes were clear. The first stage of the plan called for shipping the supplies, the wagons and the pontoon train. That was his department. He saluted with a “Yessir” and left.

  Old Jack never shared his plans. He told you what to do, but never why. Yet for this campaign, Jackson had to share at least some of his intentions with his chief of staff and his quartermaster, because moving the men, mules, horses, guns, wagons, ambulances and supplies of two army corps was not something that could be improvised, and it was too complex for him to direct alone.

  Now Sandie and Harman were the only men in the army who knew what their chief intended. The prospect of invading Tennessee was exciting as it was, but carrying and keeping such a secret was more so, lending them renewed vigor.

  In hindsight, Sandie could see that Jackson had intended this change of base for many weeks, perhaps all along. In the first week after taking command, Jackson told him to put some railroad men onto the staff, who were then sent out to inspect every locomotive, every station, and nearly every rail car and section of track. Scouts had been dispatched investigate crossing points for the Tennessee River. Such work was typical under Jackson, who liked to plan for every contingency, so the staff never wondered about it, and outside Jackson’s staff hardly anyone noticed.

  Sandie was thankful he had brought with him the records from Richmond covering Braxton Bragg’s 1862 change of base from Mississippi to Chattanooga. In Sandie’s opinion, that movement was brilliantly conceived and executed, and it gave him a working model for his own plan.

  “Now, sir, I have the telegraphy. General Polk has sent you his dispositions, as you requested.” Polk was always prompt when he was getting what he wanted, Sandie smirked to himself.

  Jackson took the papers from Sandie, and read through them. For his “raid,” Polk intended to concentrate the infantry divisions of Samuel French and W.W. Loring.

  “Loring” Jackson grumbled aloud. Man would bear watching, he thought.

  Continuing, Jackson saw that Polk also meant to bring the cavalry divisions of Red Jackson and Nathan Bedford Forrest. Jackson had ordered Polk to supply his own cavalry from the outsized force of horsemen in his department, and Polk had complied. That was important, as it meant Jackson had no need to bring any of Wheeler’s cavalry from Georgia with him, lightening his transportation burden. Finally, S.D. Lee would command the balance of the cavalry in Polk’s department, shielding western Mississippi.

  “Hurm. Forrest.” There was that name again. In the East, Forrest had the reputation of being merely a talented cavalry raider, but the reports Jackson had read since his appointment as Army of Tennessee commander pointed to a man who was something more than that. There was no time to finish reviewing the mountain of paperwork, however, and there was a better way to get to the bottom of who the man was.

  “Sandie, send over to General Wheeler. He is to report to me at his earliest convenience, but sometime before midday. And tell him I want any brigadier or colonel who has served under General Forrest sent to me later this afternoon.”

  April 2

  Early afternoon

  Headquarters, Military Division of the Mississippi, USA

  Nashville, Tennessee

  Major Audenried found Sherman in high feather that morning, chewing on stewed chicken and going about his paperwork.

  Sherman swallowed and said “Ah! Joseph. Come on in. Is that the latest from the telegraph office? Set it down here.”

  Audenried smiled an easy, pleasant smile. “Yessir. May I ask what has you in such a fair mood?”

  Sherman wiped the grease from his fingers with a napk
in, took up a piece of paper, shook it at Audenried, and then motioned for him to sit down. “This, my dear fellow, is my authorization from Secretary Stanton to take possession of all the railroads in the department. I’ve already told Colonel Anderson to seize every locomotive and car that comes into Nashville, and put them to work pushing supplies down to Chattanooga.”

  “That’s marvelous news, sir.”

  Sherman was very nervous about matters of supply, given that his armies were at the end of a railroad line stretching back 300 miles, all the way back to Louisville, Kentucky. Half of that was hostile territory. Everyone knew that once the campaign started, Rebel raiders would play merry hell with that supply line wherever and whenever they could.

  Part of Sherman’s answer to this problem was to build up enough ammunition, food, forage, and sundries in Chattanooga to supply 100,000 men and 35,000 animals for 70 days. The difficulty wasn’t collecting all that materiel, as Nashville was already a vast, bustling supply base, surely the largest in the world. Instead, the trouble was moving that materiel down to Chattanooga. With control of the railroads, Sherman could organize things as he saw fit.

  “How long do you think it will take to push all the materiel down the line?” Audenried asked.

  “30 days, give or take.” Having delivered his news, Sherman returned reading the new reports and munching on his dinner.

  Sherman had complete confidence in that figure. Although his quartermasters would need a day or two to sort out the new timetables, he had all the facts and figures memorized, and had already clicked away in his head at the sums. He knew it could be done if his people were efficient, and he had made sure a long time ago that they were quite efficient.

  He read through half a dozen pages at a fast clip, absorbing every word faster than most men could merely glance things over. Then Sherman noticed something that made him remember his meeting with Banks the month before.

  “Oh, Audenried. Send to General Corse. Smith and his boys ought to be leaving Banks in Louisiana and on his way back to us by now, but Banks is being evasive about it. Tell Corse he is to get down there and move things along.”