Freedom (Gone For Soldiers)

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “Thank you,” Grant replied.

  “Please have a seat, sir.” Meade motioned to an easy chair and then sat down across from Grant. “It occurred to me that you might want to replace me with an officer such as Cump Sherman who’s served with you in the West. If so, I beg you not to hesitate. The work before us is of such vast importance to the whole nation that the feelings or wishes of one person shouldn’t stand in the way of selecting the right man for all positions. For myself, I’ll serve to the best of my ability wherever placed.”

  Grant shook his head. “I have no thoughts of replacing you with anyone. You’re still in command of the armies of the East. Sherman will replace me as commander of the West. McPherson will take command of Sherman’s department and Logan the command of McPherson’s corps.”

  “I’m grateful for your confidence,” Meade said, still quite obviously nervous. “Will you be establishing your headquarters in Washington or will they remain in the West?”

  “My plan had been to remain in the West, but after seeing the situation in Washington I’ve changed my mind and will locate my headquarters somewhere near yours. I’ll try my best to give you autonomy. When possible I’ll issue orders for the movements of the Army of the Potomac to you.”

  “That’s very thoughtful.” Meade looked out the window. “If you’re ready to inspect the troops…”

  Grant nodded and stood up. “I’m going to have to make it fast. I need to get back at once to make arrangements for turning over the commands and giving general directions for the preparations to be made for the spring campaign in the West.”

  “Of course. After you.”

  “There is one more thing. I’ve decided to suspend the exchange of prisoners of war. I’m convinced that the exchange is prolonging the war by returning soldiers to the South.”

  “I agree,” Meade said. “Shall we?”

  ~

  Robert Van Buskirk shook hands with his nephew Paul. “How are you, Pea?”

  “Very well, thank you, Uncle Robert. Are you still General Grant’s adjutant?”

  “I haven’t decided if I want to come back here with Sam or stay with Cump. I may just move back and forth as the need arises. Rail travel now makes that possible.”

  “Did Aunt Anna tell you that I saw Johnny at Christmas?”

  “Yes. But she didn’t give me any details.”

  Paul shook his head. “He’s very bitter.”

  Robert nodded. “I can understand why.”

  “Do you know where my father is?”

  “No. But I know he’ll be all right, Pea. He’s smart, tough and resourceful.”

  “Did you perpetrate that hoax to get him out of prison?”

  Robert dropped his eyes for a moment, then looked at Paul. “If I did, what good would it do if you knew about it?”

  Paul shook his head. “Never mind. I have the answer.”

  “And you disapprove.”

  “I don’t know if I do or not. It’s very hard deciding whether my first loyalty’s to my country or my family.”

  “We all have that problem, Pea.”

  “Yes. Yes, I suppose we do.” Paul sighed. “Is this war almost over?”

  “No,” Robert said. “If we can wreck the Southern economy before autumn, they may surrender next spring, after a long, cold winter. It won’t be pleasant to endure or to watch.”

  “Next spring could be too late. Rumor has it that McClellan is going to run against Lincoln in November.”

  “There’s a whole laundry list of candidates.”

  “I know McClellan,” Paul said. “If he wins he’ll negotiate peace and let the Southern states secede.”

  “Lincoln’s a shrewd politician. He’ll find a way to win regardless of who the opposition is.”

  “I pray that you’re right. Otherwise our family’s made a lot of sacrifices for nothing.”

  Robert looked over at the parade field. “Grant’s finishing the inspection. I’d better get back.” He gave his hand to Paul. “Keep your head down, Pea.”

  “You too, Uncle Robert.”

  March 18, 1864

  Nashville, Tennessee

  With the help of an enlisted man in the rear vestibule, General Robert Van Buskirk swung onto the train as it was pulling away from the platform. “Thank you, Corporal,” he said breathlessly. “I don’t run too well on this bad leg. I was afraid I was going to get left behind.”

  “General Grant ordered the engineer to wait for you, sir,” the man replied. “But the engineer didn’t like it much. He started rolling when you came out of the station.”

  Robert scowled. “I’ll have to have a little talk with that engineer a bit later.”

  “I think General Sherman’s gonna do that for you, sir,” the corporal chuckled. “He sent me back to help you get aboard and headed toward the engine like a cat with a turpentined tail.”

  Robert smiled. “The engineer would have been better off talking to me.”

  “No doubt about that, sir.” The corporal opened the door and held it. “General Grant’s car is one car forward, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Robert made his way through the passenger car, nodding to staff officers and enlisted personnel along the way.

  Ulysses Grant was seated at a table in a large, smoke-filled compartment. He looked up as an aide showed Robert in. “Are you all right? That damned engineer did that to spite me.” He gestured toward a chair on his left. “Cump went forward to dress him down about it.”

  “I’m fine, Sam. Just a little winded.” Robert sat down in the offered chair. “I saw Julia and gave her your message. She said to take care of yourself and that she’ll see you in Washington as soon as she can.”

  “Poor woman,” Grant said. “I don’t know how she puts up with me.”

  “She’s very proud of you, Sam. Very proud.”

  Grant smiled. “After all my failures, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

  “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” Robert took a cigar from his coat pocket and clipped it. “For what it’s worth, I’m pretty proud of you too.”

  Grant struck a match and lit Robert’s cigar. “You always believed in me. I never really thanked you for that.”

  “No need.” Robert puffed on his cigar. “I knew you were destined for greatness when you hauled that cannon up into that tower in Mexico City and blew the gate down.”

  Grant chuckled. “Do you remember Meade from Mexico?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “When I met him in Washington I felt like I was talking to a stranger.”

  “It was probably awkward for him.”

  “I suppose.” Grant looked out the window. “I wonder what’s taking Cump so long. He’s only traveling with us as far as Cincinnati and we have a lot to talk about.”

  “Do you want me to go see?”

  “No, no. I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

  “What’s on the agenda?”

  “For our discussion?” Grant shrugged. “Mainly how our commands mesh and when we start the spring offensive.”

  “What about the restoration to duty of officers who’ve been relieved?”

  “Like who?”

  “McClellan, Burnside and Fremont in the East, and Buell, McCook, Negley and Crittenden in the West.”

  “McClellan’s off the list. He’s too politically astute for me. I wouldn’t be able to manage him. But we can talk about the others.”

  “Are you going to wait for General Banks to take Mobile before you set Cump loose on the South?”

  Grant shrugged. “Sherman’s going to march south from Chattanooga and attack Johnston at Dalton, then sweep along the railroad route to Atlanta. If Banks can take Mobile…” He stopped as Sherman came into the compartment. “Is the engineer still among the living?”

  “I didn’t lay a hand on him.” Sherman crossed the room and shook hands with Robert. “You okay?”

  “Fine, Cump. That little run was probably good for my health.”
/>   Sherman sat down on Grant’s right. “Did I miss anything?”

  Grant shook his head. “No. We were only woolgathering.” He rubbed his hands together. “Okay. Let’s get to it. How do we end this as fast as we can?”

  “Crush the South’s will to wage war,” Robert replied.

  “Total war,” Sherman added.

  Grant shook his head. “We’re not going to treat civilians as combatants.”

  “I’m not suggesting that we treat them as combatants,” Sherman said, “but as belligerents.”

  “That’s a very narrow distinction,” Grant said.

  Sherman nodded. “The distinction being that we don’t take the lives of civilians as we would of combatants, but we do destroy their crops, take their livestock, rip up their railroad tracks, tip over their water tanks and burn their cotton gins, their factories and their warehouses.”

  “Scorched earth,” Robert said.

  Sherman shrugged. “If you like that term better than total war.”

  “I don’t like either term,” Grant grumbled, “and I don’t ever want ‘total war’ or ‘scorched earth’ used in any document where the newspapers might get wind of it.”

  “After we take Atlanta, the newspapers will use both terms without any prompting from us,” Sherman said. “Unless you order me not to destroy civilian infrastructure.”

  “Ruining the Southern economy so the Confederacy can no longer wage war will save thousands of American lives, Sam,” Robert said before Grant could reply. “I still have the 1860 census report that shows factory, livestock and crop production by county.”

  “Moving through the wealthiest counties will cripple the Reb’s economy and permit us to capture what we need to supply our army,” Sherman said. “We won’t have to depend on a long supply line that would slow us down. We’ll live off the land.”

  “Right,” Robert agreed. “And every dollar we take from the Confederate economy is a dollar that the American taxpayer won’t have to contribute and a dollar that the Confederate army won’t have to spend on making war.”

  “Stop selling.” Grant looked out the window at the landscape rolling by for several seconds, then turned back to the table. “All right. But I want to see a draft of the special orders regarding foraging before I give it my full approval.”

  “I need the professor’s help to create that draft,” Sherman said.

  Grant nodded. “If you think he has time before we get to Cincinnati.”

  “No,” Sherman said. “I mean that I need him with me on this march to Atlanta.”

  “I need him with me in Washington,” Grant said, shaking his head.

  Both of them looked at Robert.

  Robert raised his hands. “I haven’t decided yet. But I can help draft the portion of the special orders about foraging before we reach Cincinnati.” He handed his pen to Sherman.

  “Why are you giving this to me?” Sherman asked.

  “It’s better than yours,” Robert said. “You’ll be able to write faster with it.”

  “I thought you were going to write it,” Sherman complained.

  “I said I’d help you write it,” Robert replied. “I’ll explain the spirit of what’s to be said and you write it down in your own words.”

  Sherman pulled a sheet from Grant’s pile of order blanks, dipped the pen in the inkwell and nodded. “Okay, Professor. Fire at will.”

  ~

  Draft Special Field Order – Subject Foraging

  The army will forage liberally on the country during the march. To this end, each brigade commander will organize a good and sufficient foraging party, under the command of one or more discreet officers, who will gather, near the route traveled, corn or forage of any kind, meat of any kind, vegetables, cornmeal, or whatever is needed by the command, aiming at all times to keep in the wagons at least ten days provisions for the command and three days forage. Soldiers must not enter the dwellings of the inhabitants, or commit any trespass, but during a halt or a camp they may be permitted to gather turnips, apples, and other vegetables, and to drive in stock of their camp. To regular foraging parties must be instructed the gathering of provisions and forage at any distance from the road traveled.

  To army corps commanders alone is entrusted the power to destroy mills, houses, cotton-gins, etc., and for them this general principle is laid down: In districts and neighborhoods where the army is unmolested no destruction of such property should be permitted; but should guerrillas or bushwhackers molest our march, or should the inhabitants burn bridges, obstruct roads, or otherwise manifest local hostility, then army commanders should order and enforce a devastation more or less relentless according to the measure of such hostility.

  As for horses, mules, wagons, etc., belonging to the inhabitants, the cavalry and artillery may appropriate freely and without limit, discriminating, however, between the rich, who are usually hostile, and the poor or industrious, usually neutral or friendly. Foraging parties may also take mules or horses to replace the jaded animals of their trains, or to serve as pack-mules for the regiments or brigades. In all foraging, of whatever kind, the parties engaged will refrain from abusive or threatening language, and may, where the officer in command thinks proper, give written certificates of the facts, but no receipts, and they will endeavor to leave with each family a reasonable portion for their maintenance.

  William T. Sherman, Military Division of the Mississippi

  March 22, 1864

  Washington, D.C.

  Charles Nelson stood up and raised his hand to wave at Quincy, who had just come into the Willard Hotel’s restaurant.

  Quincy waved back and wove his way through the crowded tables. “Mother must have lost her influence,” he said, as he shook Nelson’s left hand with his own left. “She usually rates a better table.”

  “I asked for a table at the back,” Nelson said, sitting down. “I wanted the extra privacy.”

  “Uh-oh. That sounds serious.” Quincy sat down across from him. “Are you going to ask my permission to marry my mother?”

  Nelson chuckled. “I was actually only going to ask if you objected to me keeping company with her.”

  Quincy smiled. “Of course not. I think you’re perfect for each other.”

  Nelson broke eye contact for a moment. “You may not be aware of it, but I had rather a bad patch after I left West Point.”

  “The drinking?” Quincy nodded. “I knew you had a problem with liquor when you were still at West Point and that it became worse after you left.”

  Nelson nodded.

  “I understand that you’ve overcome it.”

  “Yes. I haven’t had a drink in over five years.”

  “So?” Quincy grinned. “What are your intentions?”

  Nelson laughed. “My intentions are to let your mother decide how far our friendship extends.”

  “You’re a smart man.”

  A waiter hurried to the table with an order pad in hand. “Do you need to see a menu, General Van Buskirk?”

  “No, thank you,” Quincy said. “I’ll just have a cup of coffee, please.”

  “More coffee for you, Colonel Nelson?” the waiter asked.

  Nelson nodded. “Please.”

  “Is Mrs. Lagrange joining you?” the waiter asked.

  “She’s supposed to be,” Nelson replied. “But she’s late.”

  The waiter picked up Nelson’s empty cup and saucer. “I’ll be right back with your coffee, gentlemen.”

  “Thank you.” Quincy waited a moment for the waiter to leave before continuing the conversation. “I saw Mother briefly yesterday after the Colorado Enabling Act signing at the White House. She said that she’s planning a trip to Richmond to see my cousin Johnny.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “I don’t suppose you could talk her out of it.”

  “Not likely,” Nelson scoffed. “But I might be able to convince her to let me accompany her, if you have no objections?”

  “Why would I object?�
��

  “Well.” Nelson blushed. “Her reputation… That is – we’d be staying at inns, un-chaperoned…”

  Quincy chuckled. “My mother’s reputation is beyond…” He stopped mid-sentence. “Oh, Lord. That was a stupid thing to say. How do I get out of this, now?”

  “That depends upon what you were going to say.”

  Quincy hesitated. “Let me see. Well, my mother’s reputation was completely ruined during the Dan Sickles trial when she was exposed as Phillip Key’s lover. The defense made it a point to imply that she was a loose woman.”

  “Ah.” Nelson nodded. “I know all about that.”

  “You know that I’m illegitimate, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Your surname gives you away.”

  “Of course it does.” Quincy rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

  “I suppose you, like me, are trying to make a good impression.”

  “Yes. I suppose.”

  Nelson took a deep breath. “So how long will you be here in Washington?”

  “My train leaves at 4:00.” He looked at his watch.

  “Today? I was hoping we could have dinner together tonight. The three of us, I mean.”

  “I wish I could, but…”

  Nelson nodded. “You know it really is amazing that you could get from Tennessee to here and back so fast. When I was a boy…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “To me, the telegraph’s even more amazing than the railroad. President Lincoln sent a wire to Colorado’s Governor, John Evans, informing him that the Act had been signed. A few years ago it would have been weeks before anyone knew.”

  Nelson smiled. “If we’d had the telegraph fifty years ago, the Battle of New Orleans would never have been fought and Andrew Jackson would probably never have been elected president.”

  Quincy looked at his watch again.

  “Do you have another appointment?” Nelson asked.

  “No.” Quincy put his watch away. “I was wondering when Mother might join us.”