_Wherein Captain Galligasken follows the Campaign of the Army of
the Potomac, and the illustrious Soldier announces that he shall
fight it out on that Line, if it takes all Summer_.
The river was safely crossed, and the anxiety which the lieutenant
general had felt in regard to this movement was removed. It was an
entire success. The army train consisted of four thousand wagons, and
it required no little accurate calculation to dispose of it with the
available roads, without subjecting any portion of it to the liability
of capture. Formed in single line, the procession of teams, allowing
forty feet to each, would extend about thirty miles, or nearly half way
to Richmond. It would require a man of great ability to conduct such
a train even ten miles, in a time of profound peace, without throwing
it into confusion. The nicest system and the closest coöperation were
necessary, in order to keep it in a place of safety, and to prevent
its movements from being impeded. Of course this train could not be
extended on a single line. It was a part of the calculation of the
commanding general to keep this immense procession in a place of
safety, and yet have it when and where it was wanted.
But the wagons were only a small part of Grant's solicitude. His army
was composed of about one hundred and thirty thousand men--equal to the
population of a large city. To have marched this vast body on a holiday
excursion from the Rapidan to the James, with no hostile foe to dispute
its passage, would be regarded as a stupendous undertaking even for
a skilful person. Wellington once observed that there were very few
generals in Europe who could march an army of a hundred thousand men
through Hyde Park gate without throwing them into confusion. But this
vast army on its southern march was to be kept well in hand, and all
its movements and positions known to one man. It was to be swung round,
marched and countermarched, as a child handles a toy. It required a man
of genius to control this cumbrous machine, independently of fighting
battles with it. In the hands of an incompetent man, its very numbers
would have been its greatest element of weakness.
Not only was Grant directing the movements of this vast army, but he
controlled another, hundreds of miles away, nearly as large, and a
dozen more of minor magnitude. Civilians who have never witnessed the
movements of an army on a large scale can have no adequate idea of the
skill required to handle its columns; but it is patent to many of the
knowing ones that some of our generals failed for the want of this very
ability to move in harmony such vast bodies of men. I gaze with wonder
and admiration at the ease and facility with which Grant carried in his
mind the details of such a stupendous organization, and moved its parts
as the mainspring moves all the wheels of a watch. A man with this
ability alone is a miracle of power.
It was the plan of the lieutenant general to flank the army of Lee, and
place his forces between the rebels and Richmond, though the success
of the campaign was by no means made to depend upon this movement. It
would compel the Confederates to abandon their elaborate intrenchments,
upon which they had labored for months, either to assault the moving
column or to fall back upon the capital. Lee did not allow himself to
be flanked, but, abandoning his works, attempted to cut through the
national line, while it was yet involved in the intricacies of The
Wilderness.
Grant had not intended to fight a battle in this unfavorable spot,
though he was ready at all times for the assault. The region was a
tangled thicket, where the artillery could not be effectually used,
and where it was impossible to manoeuvre an army. When he found his
subtle foe approaching in force, he made his dispositions for the
conflict. The battle commenced at noon, and raged with tremendous
fury till night. It was fought with reckless valor on both sides. The
rebels were repeatedly massed in heavy columns, and hurled against the
Union lines. The tide of battle surged to and fro till the darkness
interrupted the fierce strife. No decided advantage was gained on
either side, and the two armies, exhausted by the struggle, slept upon
their arms.
At dawn the next morning, May 6, the national line was again formed. It
was five miles in length, with Sedgwick, commanding the Sixth Corps, on
the right, Hancock, with the Second Corps, on the left, while Warren,
with the Fifth, and Burnside, with the Ninth Corps, were in the centre.
By the arrival of Longstreet, the rebels were reënforced, and Lee began
his "hammering" process on the right of the national line, which had
been directed to make a general attack. The awful tragedy of the day
before was repeated, and both lines at times swayed back and forth.
Hancock drove the force in front of him a mile and a half to the rear,
capturing many prisoners and five stands of colors; but the advantage
was soon lost. From morning till night again, with only an occasional
lull, the lines surged like the great waves of ocean--now broken and
scattered, but then mounting again with new vigor, and rolling on as
though death had no terrors, and life had no pains. Again the sun went
down on a field unwon by either contestant in the savage strife. Not a
particle of practical advantage was gained by Grant or Lee. The Union
army had fought on the defensive, and had repulsed the assault; so far
it had been successful. The rebel army had fought on the offensive,
intending to drive the national forces back upon the Rapidan, and break
up the campaign at the onset. In this it had failed. Furthermore, Grant
had succeeded in driving Lee out of his intrenchments.
The loss on both sides exceeded twenty thousand men. The Union loss was
much greater than that of the rebels, for the latter were familiar with
every foot of the wild region in which the battle was fought, and were
thus enabled to take advantage of what were the greatest obstacles in
the path of the national troops. The army of the Potomac had reached
a crisis in its progress when it had been the rule to retreat and
recruit. Indeed, Lee believed he had inflicted injury enough upon his
foe to compel him, according to the traditions of the past, to retire
and cover Washington. But to his amazement, not to say his horror, he
ascertained that Burnside and Sedgwick were in motion, not for the
Rapidan, but for Spottsylvania.
Throughout the loyal land, and, we may well believe, the homes of
treason also, the most intense anxiety for the result prevailed. The
faithful, north of the Potomac, had been educated by the experience
of three years to be prepared for disasters in Virginia, and a
splendidly-conducted retreat would not greatly have astonished, however
much it would have grieved and disappointed them, expecting, as they
did, better things of the new general-in-chief. Washington was in a
state of the most exciting anxiety and suspense, in which the president
and the officers of the War Department shared. Many sat up all night to
hear tidings from the bloody battle-field.
Grant, even more thoroughly in earnest than ever before, had given
orders, at the outposts of the city's defences, to arrest every man
fleeing from the battle-field, and to put in irons every officer who
"straggled." Among those who were thus ignominiously shackled were
_four colonels_. Of course these beggarly cowards brought tidings of
defeat and disaster, and it was feared in Washington, as it was hoped
in Richmond, that the grand army of the Potomac was again in retreat,
was again retracing its steps to a safe position on the Potomac.
Fear and suspense reigned, not only in the capital, but in all the
loyal land. Grant was the last hope of the people, and if he had
failed,--he who had beaten down Vicksburg, and scattered the foe at
Chattanooga,--the cause would be almost hopeless.
Grant forwarded no sensational despatches, but at the earliest
opportunity he sent a truthful statement of the results of his
operations. If all that had been hoped of the army was not achieved,
the news was satisfactory. The national forces at least held their own;
they were not retreating, as General Lee believed and had telegraphed
to Richmond. The nation breathed easier, especially when President
Lincoln declared by proclamation that "enough was known of the army
operations within the last five days to claim our especial gratitude to
God." Additional troops were sent forward to fill up the fearful gaps
which had been made in the lines by the carnage of battle.
On Saturday, the lieutenant general, so far from being checked or
disheartened by his position, felt that he had the advantage of
the enemy, and coolly proceeded to carry out his original purpose
of flanking the rebel army. He commenced moving his forces to
Spottsylvania Court House, fifteen miles from The Wilderness; but the
thundering roll of that mighty wagon train was heard by Lee. It assured
him that a new movement was in progress, and he quickly discovered its
nature. Then commenced a race for the objective point of both. There
was considerable skirmishing during this day, but no heavy battle.
Both armies were moving in parallel lines for Spottsylvania Court
House, and on several occasions they jostled each other so as to
produce smart engagements; but there was no general battle. The
advance of the two armies reached their destination at the same time,
and the rebels immediately took possession of the strong earthworks
which had been previously constructed. Warren, in command of the Fifth
Corps, attacked at once; but the enemy was so well protected by his
intrenchment that the assault failed. But, reenforced in the afternoon,
the attack was repeated, and the foe was driven out of his works, the
nationals capturing fifteen hundred prisoners. During the day every
corps of the army had been engaged.
Monday was spent in strengthening the position and in preparation for
the fight, though there was much skirmishing going on all day. While
General Sedgwick was superintending the posting of the guns in front
of his corps, a bullet struck him in the face, and he fell, dying
immediately. He was a noble man, and a severe loss to the army. On this
day also was sent out Phil Sheridan, on that bold raid in which he
inflicted so much injury on the rebels, sweeping around Richmond, and
menacing its safety. On this expedition he encountered and fought the
most celebrated cavalryman of the rebel army,--General Stuart,--who was
mortally wounded in the action, and his forces routed.
On Tuesday the general attack upon the rebel line was made. The thunder
of five hundred cannons opened the battle, which raged through the long
day. Each of the opposing generals had almost uniformly divined the
purposes of the other, and there were no important mistakes on either
side to be taken advantage of. Both armies fought with the fury of
desperation, the rebels having the tremendous advantage of a line of
strong works to cover their operations. The front line of intrenchments
was captured, but the enemy had others behind it. Though two thousand
prisoners were taken, no decided advantage was gained, save that the
"hammering" the rebels had received made its due impression.
On Wednesday there was no general conflict, though so closely were
the two armies brought together, that frequent skirmishes could not
be avoided. On this day, Grant sent a hopeful despatch to Washington,
announcing the result of his operations thus far. It was the end of
the sixth day of continuous heavy fighting. He believed that the
enemy's loss had been greater than his own. He had taken five thousand
prisoners in battle, and had lost but few except "stragglers." At the
end of this communication he appended that thrilling sentence which has
so often been repeated as an eloquent interpretation of the character
and persistency of the man: "I PROPOSE TO FIGHT IT OUT ON THIS
LINE, IF IT TAKES ALL SUMMER."
My friend Pollard becomes particularly unamiable at this critical
passage in the history of "The Lost Cause," and declares that "Grant
was not shamed. The Moloch of the North had not yet been sated."
This romancing writer was dissatisfied with poor' Grant, because he
would not go back to the Rapidan. McClellan was a good fellow, in his
estimation, for he did not keep "hammering," and after he had fought
a drawn battle, like that at Antietam, he did not vex the chivalrous
Lee by running after him when he "retired." "Grant was not shamed,"
as McClellan used to be after he had fought a battle. Doubtless Grant
ought to have been "shamed," and gone back like a good boy, and not
have been so ridiculous as to propose to fight it out on that line, if
it took all summer. That "Moloch of the North" was an awful fellow,
bound to be "sated" only when the Rebellion fell through.
My dearly-beloved friend Pollard is also vexed at the generalship of
Grant, and prates about "the fierce and brutal consumption of human
life." I am inclined to think he believes in the checker-board theory
of carrying on war; but the sum total of Grant's sins was, that he did
not retreat, and give Lee time to recruit and strengthen his position.
My friend persistently forgets that these hard knocks in the end used
up the rebel army, and introduced him, as a writer, to his subject,
"The Lost Cause." Though the end does not always justify the means,
it did in this instance, fully and unequivocally. Though the national
army had in these six days lost thirty-five thousand men, in killed,
wounded, and missing, the destruction in the rebel ranks could not
have been greatly less, in spite of the advantages under which it was
engaged. If Grant had retired, and left Lee to recuperate the pluck
of his army by proclaiming his victory, and to recruit his exhausted
forces, the results of these tremendous battles would have been lost
to the loyal cause. As it was, they ground in upon the spirits of
the rebel army, and produced their proper share of the effect which
finally resulted in the overthrow of the Rebellion. Pollard knows very
well if Grant had turned back, the Confederacy would have obtained a
new lease of life; and he frets because the illustrious soldier would
not oblige Lee in this respect.
On Thursday, Hancock made a sudden attack, surprising the rebels,
capturing one entire division, two brigades of another, and thirty
guns, the number of prisoners being between three and four thousand.
This was a decided success. Generals Johnson and G.H. Stuart were
captured. Hancock extended his hand to Stuart, whom he had known
before, exclaiming, "How are you, Stuart?" But the rebel was haughty
and "airy," and replied, "I am General Stuart, of the Confederate army,
and under present circumstances I decline to take your hand." "Under
any other circumstances I should not have offered it," added Hancock,
with coolness and dignity.
The enemy made a desperate effort to recover what he had lost, and
the battle became general again; but no permanent advantage was
secured. Lee retired to his inner line of intrenchments, which he
had strengthened so that a direct assault was not practicable. For a
week, while the roads were rendered unfit for use by heavy rains, the
two armies confronted each other. Grant watched for an opportunity to
turn the enemy's position, but his wily foe as often discovered his
purpose. It was manifest that no brilliant results were to be achieved
at Spottsylvania, and Grant made up his mind to "fick it again." A
new flank movement was begun, and the lieutenant general safely moved
his army "on to Richmond," across the North Anna River, where its
passage was disputed by the rebels; but they were driven back, and the
nationals crossed the stream, posting themselves in a strong position.
In the mean time, Grant had changed his base of supplies from
Fredericksburg to White House, on the Pamunkey. Sheridan had returned
from his raid, and was rendering efficient service in protecting the
supplies with his cavalry, and in reconnoitring the positions of the
enemy. Lee, who had been over all this ground before, in the memorable
campaign with McClellan, and knew from experience what strong places
the region contained, was found to be even more securely placed than
before. Grant therefore decided not to attack him in his intrenchments,
but, under cover of a feint, recrossed the North Anna, marched along
its banks till he reached the Pamunkey, of which the former river is a
branch, crossing it near Hanover Court House, only sixteen miles from
Richmond.
The rebels still kept up with the movement, occupying their
intrenchments made to cover Richmond. They were posted on the
Chickahominy, which Grant was obliged to cross if he reached the
city. He decided to make the attempt to break the enemy's line at
Cold Harbor, where roads were available from White House and to the
rebel capital. The attack was made, and one of the severest battles
of the campaign followed. Sheridan had taken possession of the place,
and the enemy attempted to drive him out. The Sixth Corps went to his
assistance, and the spot was held. Two days later, four o'clock in the
morning, a general assault was made. The first line of the rebel works
was carried by Hancock, but he was forced back with heavy losses. The
conflict raged with unabated fury till half past one in the afternoon,
when the weary combatants rested from the strife. Grant fortified his
line, but it was impossible to carry the rebel strongholds.
The battle was fought on the third day of June. The enemy had
successfully repulsed the attack, and practically demonstrated that
the door of Richmond was not open in that direction. Grant was not
dismayed, nor even "shamed;" nor was the "Moloch of the North sated."
"On to Richmond" was still the beating of his heart, and still he
fought it out on this line. If nothing could be done, it would be
useless to stay in the swamps, where disease and death lurked for their
victims. Grant promptly decided to "fick it again," and commenced the
difficult movement of transporting his vast army to the south side of
the James.