“You’re a big help.”
Johnny stamped his foot to pull on his boot. “Why do you care about any of this, General?”
“I don’t know. I guess it just feels wrong.”
~
President Jefferson Davis glowered at Longstreet. “If I wanted fancy speeches, I’d have stayed in Richmond, General. The question I posed to you is very simple. Should General Bragg remain in command of the Army of Tennessee?”
Longstreet glanced at Bragg, then met Davis’s stare. “It is my considered opinion that General Bragg would be of greater service to our cause in a position other than the command of the Army of Tennessee.”
“Fine. Thank you.” Davis pointed. “General Van Buskirk, same question.”
“I have no opinion, sir,” Johnny replied.
“Come, come, now. Where’s the frank and outspoken nature that’s characteristic of your family, General?”
“My knowledge of the battle was limited to the men around me and the enemy before me, sir. We won our battle and General Bragg deserves none of the credit for our victory. Had we lost, General Bragg would have deserved none of the blame. I have no opinion of General Bragg’s suitability as the army’s commander, sir.”
“Very well,” Davis said. “General Buckner?”
“I have to agree with General Longstreet, sir.”
“General Cheatham?”
“I concur with General Longstreet and General Buckner, Mr. President.”
“General Hill?”
“It is my opinion that General Bragg should be relieved.”
Davis looked around the room. “Let’s save some time. Is there a dissenting opinion? Does anyone think that General Bragg should retain command?”
No one spoke.
“Very well. Thank you for coming, gentlemen. Can you stay please, General Longstreet?”
“Yes, sir.”
Davis waited until the last man had left the room. “I suppose you know why I asked you to stay.”
“No, sir,” Longstreet replied.
“You’ll take immediate command of the Army of Tennessee. I want…”
“Sir.”
“Let me finish, General,” Davis snapped. “I want the appointment to take place at once to give you time to gain the confidence of the officers and men before continuing this battle.”
“It’s my opinion, sir, that the Army of Tennessee has already lost this battle and is now entangled in a quasi-siege.”
“You will break out of the siege and…”
“The officers and men of this command are disappointed and demoralized. Grant’s moving his army toward us as is the Union Army of Virginia. In my judgment, our last opportunity was lost when we failed to follow the success at Chickamauga and to capture or disperse the Union Army.”
“Do you accept the command, yes or no?” Davis demanded angrily.
“No, sir, I do not accept. It would not be just to the Confederacy or to myself.”
Davis was furious and unable to respond.
“The Army of Tennessee is part of General Johnston’s department and the remnants of it might better be used in combination with his other forces in Alabama and Mississippi,” Longstreet said. “I would cheerfully work for General Johnston in any capacity.”
“How dare you?” Davis exploded. “I have offered you the command of an army and you have the temerity to tell me how to reorganize the entire department? You are a cowardly…”
“Stop right there,” Longstreet growled, pointing his finger at Davis. “I don’t care who you are, I will not abide your insults. This battle is lost and this army is in ruins. Nothing you say can change that.”
Davis pressed his palms to his temples. “I don’t need this. Why is everyone against me? I have politicians sniping at me constantly. The people blame me for shortages and for the degradation of their lives. I don’t know what they want from me.”
“It’s not all that complicated, sir. The people only want you to end the war so they can have their lives back. They’re at a point where they don’t care how you end it, so long as you end it.”
Davis glared at him. “I never expected this from you, Longstreet.”
“Sir, please accept my resignation. I’m sure you can find someone who can better meet your expectations.”
“You know perfectly well that I can’t accept your resignation. Your troops would mutiny.”
“Perhaps I could take a leave of absence for the winter. I can go to the Trans-Mississippi Department, and after the troops are accustomed to their new commander, I’ll send in my written resignation from Texas.”
“Stop it,” Davis complained. “Your resignation will not be required or accepted if offered.”
“Then, if I am to continue in command I must ask about the replacement for General Hood, sir.”
“I’ve been told that he will survive his wounds.”
“He may, sir. But if so he’ll be too crippled to take the field again.”
Davis didn’t answer.
“Might I suggest General Jenkins, sir? He’s bright, gallant, and efficient.”
“General Law is his senior, is he not?”
“Yes, sir. If General Law is your choice, I have no objection.”
Davis shook his head. “I didn’t say I’d choose Law, I just asked if he was senior.”
“I need a replacement for Hood, sir. If not Jenkins, then Law will be acceptable. But I need a decision from you now.”
“You can’t speak to me like that.”
Longstreet looked out the window. “It’s getting late.”
“Yes,” Davis agreed. “Thank you. You’re dismissed.”
Longstreet walked out and found Johnny Van Buskirk waiting. “Don’t ask.”
“I have to. Did you accept the command?”
“No. And in denying it I think I may have ended my military career.”
Johnny shrugged. “The Southern cause is doomed, sir. Our military careers will end when the war’s over. The Yankees won’t be offering us our commissions in the United States again.”
“I suppose I just want a place in history,” Longstreet said.
“History’s written by the victorious. That won’t be us.”
Longstreet stopped walking and looked at the younger man. “What’s caused this sudden defeatist attitude?”
“It’s been coming on slowly since Gettysburg, but Bragg, this campaign and the visit from Davis convinced me that there’s no hope. The Confederacy’s rotten, built upon an indefensible institution.”
“Will you resign?”
“Of course not, sir. I made a commitment. I’m in this to the bitter end, whether it be mine or the Confederacy’s.”
“Good old loyal Johnny Reb.” Longstreet resumed walking toward his staff and his horse. “You should have gone with your brother that day back at Harper’s Ferry.”
“Is Davis going to relieve Bragg?” Johnny asked, ignoring the comment.
“I don’t know where he’s gonna find anyone to replace Bragg.”
“After today, working for Bragg is going to be difficult for you.”
“It has been up until today.”
“Still…” Johnny said.
“What would you suggest?”
“I don’t know, sir, but we have to get out of his command.”
“Let me think about it.”
October 11, 1863
Memphis, Tennessee
After sending the 4th Division of General John M. Corse toward Corinth on the common road with the wagon trains, General William T. Sherman boarded a special train loaded with his staff, clerks, orderlies and their horses, along with a battalion of the Thirteenth United States Regulars.
At noon, as the train passed through Collierville, it began to slow to a stop. Sherman, who had been napping in his private car, got up and looked out the window to see Union troops outside who were running to form defensive positions. “What in blazes is going on out there?”
“I don’t kn
ow, sir,” a clerk replied.
Sherman walked out onto the rear platform of his railcar and called to the nearest soldier. “What’s all this?”
The man recognized the general and saluted.
“I asked you what’s going on,” Sherman shouted.
“I’ll fetch Colonel Anthony, sir.” The man turned and ran toward a mounted officer.
Sherman’s staff, also curious about why the train had stopped, were pushing their way out onto the rear platform of his private car. To escape from the chattering crowd, Sherman jumped down and walked to meet the colonel who was riding toward him.
The officer reined in his horse and saluted. “Colonel Andrew Anthony, Sixty-sixth Indiana, sir. I’m the post commander.”
“What post?” Sherman asked.
“The Collierville post, sir.” He pointed back toward the railroad depot.
“So what are you doing out here and why have you stopped my train?”
“My pickets were driven in by a large force of Confederate Cavalry.” He pointed down the tracks.
Sherman looked up at the gaggle on the rear platform. “Somebody go tell Captain C.C. Smith to form his men up on that knoll.”
“Rebel messenger, sir.” Colonel Dayton, one of Sherman’s aides, pointed. “Under a flag of truce.”
Sherman squinted at the mounted man with the white flag who was riding toward them. “Go on up there and see what he has to say, Dayton.” He pointed at Colonel Anthony. “You dismount and go with Colonel Dayton.”
“He’s going to offer terms, sir,” Dayton said as he jumped down from the train.
“I know that,” Sherman replied. “Stall for time.” He looked over Dayton’s head. “Somebody tell Captain Smith to disregard my order to form on the knoll, to instead, exit the train on the other side, where the Rebs can’t see him, and await my orders.”
Colonels Dayton and Anthony climbed the grade and met the Confederate officer. The conversation was very short.
Sherman waited until Dayton returned. “Well?”
“That’s the adjutant of a Reb general named Chalmers, sir,” Dayton said.
“Never heard of him. What’s he want?”
“He wants us to surrender the train, the depot and the army post. He’s waiting for your answer.”
“Let him wait then.” Sherman turned back toward the train. “Colonel McCoy!”
“Sir?” McCoy replied.
“Run back to the station and send a message to Memphis and Germantown. Tell them what happened and to hurry Corse’s division forward. We passed him not too far back. Try not to let the Rebs up there see you.”
“Yes, sir.” The colonel jumped to the ground, trotted down the embankment and ran back into the trees along the railroad cut.
“Sir,” Dayton said. “If we don’t take your answer back to that Reb…”
“I know, I know,” Sherman replied. “Go ahead on. But walk slow and stall as long as you can. I need to get Smith into position and then get the engineer to back this train up to the railroad station before you tell him to go to hell.”
“Captain Smith’s in position,” someone called down.
“Then go tell the engineer to start backing up.” Sherman walked closer to the train and extended his hand. “Somebody pull me up.”
As the train backed into the station, Sherman deployed most of the battalion of regulars along a small redoubt. The balance he sent to join the Sixty-Sixth Indiana in the earthen fort. Everyone else who could load and fire a weapon was placed in the depot, in the railroad-cut, or in some shallow rifle-trenches near the depot.
The Confederate artillery opened on the train, quickly damaging the engine and setting fire to several cars. Simultaneous charges from two columns of Confederate cavalry quickly followed.
Although outnumbered, the veterans of Vicksburg were excellent shots and many were armed with repeating rifles. The Confederates continued to press for almost four hours until Corse’s division came into view.
The following day the damage to the rails, the locomotive and the railcars were repaired, and Sherman continued onward to Corinth.
October 15, 1863
Johnson’s Island, Danbury, Ohio
Colonel David Bohannon, the warden of Johnson’s Island Prison, stood up behind his desk and waited as a dumpy, matronly, gray-haired woman was shown in. “The duty sergeant says that you’re from the War Department.”
“No,” the woman said, “but I have the approval of the War Department to be here.” The woman produced a document from her enormous pocketbook and put it on the warden’s desk. “I am Miss Clorinda McGhee, a lawyer with the Attorney General’s office.”
He glanced at the document. “You’re here to interview one of my new prisoners?”
“Yes. The prisoner known to you as General No-name.”
“We’re almost certain that he’s General Thomas Van Buskirk of John Bell Hood’s Texans. Van Buskirk’s the only general on the Confederate’s missing in action list from Gettysburg.”
The woman produced two small framed oil paintings. “Does your prisoner resemble either of these men?”
The warden studied them, then shrugged. “Yes. Either picture could be of our prisoner – when he was young, of course.”
“Exactly the point of all this.” She retrieved the paintings. “One of these pictures is Thomas Van Buskirk and the other is his brother, William Van Buskirk, alias Lucky Billy Van. William is wanted by the United States, but has been pardoned by the Confederacy. We suspect that you have William here in your prison, not Thomas.”
“How do you propose to discover that?”
“The Attorney General hasn’t authorized me to share that information with you until after I’ve made a positive identification.”
“What happens if this man turns out to be William Van Buskirk and not Thomas?”
“The Attorney General will take charge of the prisoner and transfer him to a facility in Washington while he awaits indictment and trial for high crimes and, perhaps, treason. Here’s a copy of the warrant.”
“I’d need more than this to release him.”
“Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Colonel. If it becomes necessary you’ll receive an official notice from the War Department instructing you to turn the prisoner over to a Federal marshal.”
“Very well.” He walked around his desk and opened the door. “Sergeant. Have Miss McGhee escorted to the interrogation room and have General No-name brought up. In chains.”
~
Thomas Van Buskirk was brought into the interrogation room and pushed roughly into a chair by the guard. He eyed the frumpy old woman who was seated across from him suspiciously. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’ll be all, Guard,” she said. “I’ll knock on the door when I’m finished.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
At the sound of the woman’s voice, Tom’s jaw dropped.
She waited until the guard was gone, then grinned. “I’m glad the guard didn’t notice the look of shock on your face when you recognized my voice.”
“Anna,” he chuckled. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“Hello, Tom. It’s good to see you alive.”
“It’s good to see you too. But you’ve gotten fat and old since last I saw you.”
“I have indeed, but most of this is padding and makeup. I hired a woman who works in a Broadway theater to disguise me. I thought it was very convincing but I didn’t expect to fool my own brother.”
“If you’re here to try to convince me to agree to an exchange, you’ve wasted your time,” he said, stubbornly. “I’ll never sign a parole agreement.”
“Oh, stop and think, Tom. Why would I go to all this trouble if I intended to go through official channels?”
“So what then? You’re here to break me out?”
“To get you out, not to break you out. But first, I need some way to convince the warden that you’re William Van Buskirk and not Thomas Van Buskirk.”
“As William, you’ll be transferred to Washington for indictment and trial. Of course, you’ll escape along the way.”
“Oh, I see.” He nodded. “So what would it take to convince the warden that I’m William and not me?”
“I was hoping for a scar or something,” she said, studying his face. “Didn’t you get brained by a Comanche war club?”
He tipped his head down. “It’s hard to see. My hair covers it.”
She shook her head. “No good. What else?”
“How about the lack of a scar?”
“What?”
“Maybe Thomas has an obvious saber scar on his cheek and his beard doesn’t quite conceal it.”
Anna still looked puzzled.
“I don’t have the scar so I can’t be Thomas and therefore I must be William.”
“Oh, yes. I see. Perfect.” She nodded. “That’s better than… No. Wait.” She shook her head. “I just thought of something.”
“What?”
“You’re going to need that scar, after you escape. A real scar.”
“Why?”
“The warrant I gave the warden was genuine. After this, William’s going to become the most wanted man in North America. You’ll need the scar to prove that you’re Thomas and not William.”
Tom shrugged. “Any barber can provide a cut with a razor and sew it up for two bits.”
Anna shuddered.
“That’s not a very high price to pay for freedom.”
“Okay. I don’t want to think about that.” Anna stood up. “We have a plan.”
“Are you going already?”
“Yes. I have to tell the warden that you’re William and start the other wheels rolling.” She stepped toward the door.
“Wait. What happens next?”
“Robert will be here for you tomorrow or the next day. He’ll be masquerading as a Federal marshall, of course, but I’m sure you’ll recognize him.”
“Robert? Our brother Robert?”
“Yes. Our brother. Why’s that so stunning?”
“Robert doesn’t break rules.”
Freedom (Gone For Soldiers) Page 16