_Wherein Captain Galligasken has Something to say about the
illustrious Soldier's Views of Strategy, and follows him across the
Rapidan into The Wilderness._
The earnest man, now occupying the highest purely military office in
the United States, meant business; and on the day after he received
his commission, he paid a brief visit to the army of the Potomac,
in company with General Meade, then commanding it. The next morning
he started for the West, and was at Nashville when the order of the
president appointing him to the command of the armies of the United
States reached him. In a very brief, simple, and business-like order he
assumed the command, announcing that his headquarters would be in the
field, and with the army of the Potomac.
General Halleck, "at his own request," was relieved from command as
general-in-chief, and assigned to duty in Washington as chief of staff
of the army. Sherman was appointed to the military division of the
Mississippi,--the position made vacant by the elevation of Grant,--and
McPherson was placed in command of the army and the department of
the Tennessee, thus stepping into Sherman's place. Halleck was "let
down" as gently as possible, the order that promulgated these changes
including the president's approbation and thanks for the zealous manner
in which the late general-in-chief had performed his duties.
In this programme of appointments, of course, the lieutenant general
had been consulted; indeed, so far as the force in the field were
concerned, they were his assignments. Sherman and McPherson were placed
where they could be felt; they were Grant's most intimate friends, made
so by their zeal and devotion to the cause which he loved above every
other consideration.
Six days after he had assumed the command of the armies of the nation,
Grant arrived in Washington with his wife and his oldest son. He was
the central figure in the gigantic drama of the American Rebellion. The
eyes of the nation were fixed upon him, not alone of the loyal portion,
but the jeers and the taunts of the South indicated that the rebels
themselves had an interest in the movements of the hero who had wrested
from them the dominion of the western portion of the Confederacy.
Friend and foe on the other side of the broad ocean regarded him with
almost breathless attention, for now the name of Grant flashed over the
wires of another continent. His fame was as broad as the world itself.
Well might the lieutenant general have shrunk from the stupendous
task imposed upon him by the acceptance of his lofty position. He had
undertaken a duty which none had assumed but to fail--most miserably to
fail. The prospect before him would have been appalling to an ordinary
mind. Standing on the highest pinnacle of fame as a soldier, as
Sherman said, "Your reputation as a general is now far above that of
any man living," he stepped into the most difficult position that ever
a man filled. He was exposed to all the perils of political influence,
to all the darts of envy and malice behind him, as well as to all the
combinations of a skilful and desperate foe before him. It required no
little moral courage, after the failure of McClellan and Halleck, after
the almost uniform disasters which had beset the Eastern armies, to
undertake the hazardous task of bringing victory out of the elements
around him.
Grant was solemnly in earnest. He was inspired with one great
thought--the putting down of the Rebellion. His predecessors had
indulged in showy reviews; balls and parties had enlivened the tedium
of the waiting hours in the camp; and beauty's flashing eye had
gladdened the heart of the soldier. In accordance with the traditions
of the army, the ladies waited upon Lieutenant General Grant, and
suggested a ball as a fitting festivity in connection with the grand
review of the army of the Potomac which was proposed. Gently, but
firmly, he objected, and declared that "this thing must be stopped."
He was not opposed to reasonable pleasures at suitable times, but
he pointed out to them the condition of the country in the throes
of a death-struggle with treason, and insisted that it was no time
for festivities among the army officers. He spoke of the wounded and
the dying in the hospitals, and manifested such a simple and genuine
sensibility, that the ladies, who were true at heart, promptly
abandoned the project.
The grand review took place; yet it was not a holiday show, but a
means of acquainting the general with the material of the army which
was now to do the principal work in suppressing the Rebellion. It was
a splendid army which marched in column before him, and the heart of
the great commander was strengthened by the display, not of gilt and
feathers, but of numbers, of muscle, of courage.
Although in the spring of 1864 the Rebellion had been cut in two,
the sundered parts, like the fabled reptile, were still vital. The
Confederacy had been weakened, but by no means overpowered. Its
supplies of food had been greatly reduced, but still it maintained
large armies in the field. The South, nominally struggling for what it
was pleased to call liberty, was the most absolute despotism on the
face of the earth, and every energy and resource of the people, willing
or unwilling, was turned into the channel of its defence. "The cradle
and the grave were robbed" to recruit its armies.
Terrible reverses had befallen the rebel arms, and perhaps impaired
the faith of the Southern people in ultimate success; but their
spirit was not broken, and still they howled about the "last ditch."
Misfortune, instead of bringing thoughts of submission and peace,
brought desperation, a mad and fanatical zeal, like that of a band
of pirates who fight tenfold more savagely to escape the halter than
to win a prize. Ill success, so far from moderating the fury of the
rebel soldiers, transformed them into reckless zealots, more dangerous
than ever before in the path of an army of civilized men. This is not
a theory deduced from the insane protestations of rebel brawlers
and newspaper writers, but from the conduct of rebel soldiers on the
battle-field; a truth derived from The Wilderness, Cold Harbor, and
Petersburg, not from Jeff. Davis and his co-rebel declaimers.
The experience of three years of war had demonstrated that, man for
man, the North fought as well, at least, as the South. If at one time
pluck and persistency seemed to predominate at the South, the table
would be turned at another time. For every rebel victory there was
always more than one offset in national triumphs. While everything
worth holding in the West had fallen, Richmond maintained its bold
front. The army of the Potomac had been tilting at it from the day it
was organized; had repeatedly advanced, and as often been driven back.
Thus far the national arms had failed to reach Richmond.
While the rebel capital had been the objective point of the North, the
national capital had been the objective point of the South. Whenever
a Confederate army, flushed with success in Virginia, crossed the
Potomac, it was driven back. Lee in Pennsylvania was even more unlucky
than McClellan in Virginia. Chickahominy and Malvern were paralleled
by South Mountain and Antietam; Fredericksburg by Gettysburg. Between
Richmond and Washington, up to the time of Grant's appointment as
general-in-chief, the contest had been a "drawn game." Neither side
gained any permanent advantage. When the North rushed down to Richmond,
it was driven back, shattered and wasted. When the South swept around
Washington, it recoiled and went back, leaving its dead, wounded,
and prisoners behind. Up to this time the fighting material of both
armies was not only about equal, but in generalship and officers the
contending forces were well matched. The loyal nation was tired of this
marching back and forth, with nothing but the waste of battle to mark
the result, and the coming of Grant was hailed as the beginning of a
new era.
General Lee was the ablest soldier in the Southern Confederacy, and its
hope in the coming shock of battle rested on him. All the available
troops of the South were sent to him, and though he was outnumbered,
he had the advantage of position; he had "the inside track," which was
worth more to him, in a military point of view, than the disparity
in force was to Grant. Lee was not only strongly intrenched in his
position at the opening of the campaign, but he had been over the
ground between the Rapidan and the James time and again, till he knew
every foot of ground and every strategic point. Behind him were the
earthworks he had prepared in former campaigns, ready built for use.
This was the man, and this the situation, which Grant had to encounter;
and he sounded with a new significance the old cry, "On to Richmond!"
He agreed with those who came before him that the rebel capital must
be taken, and he intended to take it, not by a series of chess-board
movements, retiring when the enemy checkmated him, but by "persistent
hammering." He assigned to strategy its real value; but strategy had
been tried by the cunningest men in the army, and it had failed. Lee
was clear-headed, quick, cool, brave, adroit. He made blunders, but so
seldom that it was hardly worth while to wait for one.
Strategy, as I, Bernard Galligasken, understand it, is simply the
taking advantage of the enemy's mistakes and weak points, without
exposing yourself in a similar manner. Suppose two generals, in
command of opposing armies, to be absolutely perfect strategists, and
each incapable of making a mistake. With the forces equal in numbers,
pluck, and endurance, the first general taking position could hold
it, in theory, to the end of time. A reënforcement or a mistake alone
can change the conditions, and give the victory to either. If Lee
would kindly make a bad blunder, it would be easy to whip him; but
he profited by his own blunders as well as by those of his enemy. If
Grant would obligingly leave a weak point, Lee could drive him out of
Virginia.
Strategy and tactics were splendid qualities in Mexico, where the
officers of the two armies had been graduated from different military
institutions. There strategy overcame all odds, confounding the
Mexicans with its brilliant results. On the battle-fields of Virginia,
West Point fought on both sides, and the difference in weight and
mobility of brain gained victories.
Grant had solved this problem of strategy out of his own and the
experience of the unfortunate generals of the army of the Potomac.
He believed in strategy as fully and firmly as any general; but the
sad spectacle of the splendid army whose movements he was to direct
in the closing campaign, marching back, beaten, but undismayed, from
Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Chickahominy, assured him that
strategy alone could not cut the gordian knot of rebel power.
After the fierce battles of Chattanooga, where skill and science
had done their perfect work, Grant was smoking his cigar at his
headquarters in Nashville, in company with Quartermaster General Meigs
and General W.F. Smith, who had greatly distinguished himself in the
engineering operations of the campaign just closed. Smith was pacing
the room, absorbed in his own thoughts, and lost to everything around
him.
"What are you thinking about, Baldy?" asked Meigs, breaking the silence
which had continued for some time.
General Smith was so intensely engaged in his meditations, that he did
not notice the question, and made no reply.
"Baldy is studying strategy," added Meigs, turning to Grant with a
laugh.
"I don't believe in strategy in the popular understanding of the term,"
said Grant, very seriously, as he removed the cigar from his lips. "I
use it to get as close as possible to the enemy with little loss."
"And what then?" asked Meigs.
"Then? 'Up, guards, and at them!'" answered Grant, with more fire than
usual.
His practice was an exemplification of his rule; but he believed that,
after strategy had done its utmost, there was, in this war of the
Rebellion, a deal of terrible fighting to be done. With this view Grant
placed himself where he could direct the movements of the army of the
Potomac. Long before he assumed his present office, he had studied
the problem, and he was now prepared to act vigorously and in earnest.
He purged the army of incompetent men, sternly banished all fancy work
from its lines, and gathered himself up for the mighty struggle.
Sheridan was called from the West, and placed in command of all his
cavalry. Meade, the hero of Gettysburg, was retained in command of
the army of the Potomac. Butler was sent to operate on the south side
of the James. Sigel commanded the force in the Shenandoah Valley,
which was to protect Washington from a rebel force approaching in
that direction. More important than all, Sherman, at the head of the
combined armies which Grant himself had commanded at Chattanooga, was
to move on Atlanta. Grant had harmonized the various divisions of the
army, so that they were no longer to pull "as in a balky team," but all
together.
Richmond was the objective point of the army of the Potomac, while
Atlanta--of vast importance to the rebels as a railroad centre, and
for its founderies, machine-shops, military magazines, and storehouses
for supplies--was the point to which the army of the Mississippi
was directed. Grant had planned both of these campaigns, and he had
thoroughly impressed it upon his subordinates that there was to be no
giving up when strategy failed, no turning back, and no conducting war
on peace principles. It was the rebel armies which constituted the
power of the Confederacy, and these were to be destroyed. When they
were used up, strategic points would lose their value.
Through the month of April the busy notes of preparation for the
strife were heard; men and material were gathered together, and nothing
was left undone which could add even its mite to the prospect of
success. Though the plan of the campaign was kept a profound secret
in the breasts of only a few, so that it might not, as often before,
be carried to the rebel leaders, yet the people were not blind to the
signs of the times. Great bodies of men, and vast supplies of provision
and ammunition, were moved to the front, and it was certain that
operations on a grand scale were about to be commenced.
Whatever attention Grant had before attracted,--and certainly he had
been the "observed of all observers,"--he was now regarded with the
most intense interest, which could not but be attended with a certain
painful anxiety. All these preparations had been sounded through the
land before during the three years of grievous solicitude. That grand
army had been ready to move before, with the petted, the trusted,
the victorious general at its head. But almost always the tidings of
disaster, or, at least, of turning back, came soon after. Was the
solemn tragedy to be repeated again? Were those marshalled hosts once
more to be forced back, and another great man to be hurled from his
high eminence? The people prayed for Grant, prayed for the army, prayed
for success. But they believed in their hero. So modest, so gentle, so
simple, he was a man to be trusted, and there was more of hope than of
fear in their souls. The general-in-chief, unlike his predecessor, had
gone into the field, and the people saw how earnest, how confident he
was. He made no parade, sounded no trumpet before him, and they felt
that God would bless such a man.
The army of the Potomac was on the north side of the Rapidan, while
on the south side was the rebel army. Grant's headquarters were at
Culpepper Court House. Just before the order was given to move across
the river, the president and the lieutenant general exchanged letters
which illustrate Grant's position, while his own exhibits the noble
manliness of his nature. I must give both.
* * * * *
"EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON, April 30, 1864.
"LIEUTENANT GENERAL GRANT: Not expecting to see you before the
spring campaign opens, I wish to express in this way my entire
satisfaction with what you have done up to this time, so far as
I understand it. The particulars of your plan I neither know nor
seek to know. You are vigilant and self-reliant, and, pleased with
this, I wish not to obtrude any restraints or constraints upon you.
While I am very anxious that any great disaster or capture of our
own men may be avoided, I know that these points are less likely to
escape your attention than they would be mine. If there be anything
wanting which is within my power to give, do not fail to let me
know it. And now, with a brave army and a just cause, may God
sustain you.
Yours very truly,
A. LINCOLN."
"HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF THE U.S., }
CULPEPPER C.H., VA., May 1, 1864.}
"MR. PRESIDENT: Your very kind letter of yesterday is just
received. The confidence you express for the future, and
satisfaction for the past, in my military administration, is
acknowledged with pride. It shall be my earnest endeavor that you
and the country shall not be disappointed. From my first entry into
the volunteer service of the country to the present day, I have
never had cause of complaint, and have never expressed or implied
a complaint against the administration or the secretary of war for
throwing any embarrassment in the way of my vigorously prosecuting
what appeared to be my duty. Indeed, since the promotion which
placed me in command of all the armies, and in view of the great
responsibility and importance of success, I have been astonished
at the readiness with which everything asked for has been yielded,
without even an explanation being asked. Should my success be less
than I desire and expect, the least I can say is, the fault is not
with you.
Very truly your obedient servant,
U.S. GRANT, _Lieutenant General_."
This reply, so characteristic of the man, is noble in itself, and
sublime in contrast with the views of some other generals. "The fault
is not with you." Not thus spoke others even before they had failed.
On the 3d of May, General Meade was ordered to cross the Rapidan, and
on the following day the passage was effected without opposition.
The army entered that desolate region called The Wilderness, and the
soldiers, borrowing speech from the Odyssey, might have exclaimed,--
"We went, Ulysses (such was thy command),
Through the lone thicket and the desert land."