THOMAS AS A TACTICIAN.
While General Sherman was pursuing Hood, when that gallant but not
very sagacious rebel was making his ill-judged and ill-advised but
bold march northward, leaving Atlanta and our armies in his rear,
some exigency arose which made General Sherman regret the absence of
General George H. Thomas, who had been sent to Nashville. I do not now
distinctly remember what the exigency was other than that it related to
some important movement--perhaps the movement to the sea--but, at any
rate, so undecided and troubled was Sherman in coming to a decision,
that he suddenly broke a long silence, during which he had been
seriously meditative, by exclaiming to one of his aids,
"I wish old Thom was here! He's my off-wheel-horse, and knows how to
pull with me, though he don't pull in the same way."
[Illustration: GEORGE H. THOMAS.]
There was never a truer word uttered in jest, and describing Thomas as
the "match horse" of Sherman is a comparison by no means as inaccurate
as it is rude. In the chapter which precedes this I have endeavored to
show that the distinctive feature of Sherman's character is a certain
nervousness of thought and action, inspiring a restless and resistless
energy. The best idea of General Thomas is obtained by contrasting
him with Sherman, and illustrating Sherman as a great strategist,
Thomas as a great tactician. Sherman is not merely a theoretical
strategist as Halleck is, as McPherson was, but one of great
practicability, and an energy which has given practical solutions to
his strategic problems. Thomas is not merely a theoretical tactician,
with a thorough knowledge of the rules, but one who has illustrated
the art on extensive battle-fields, and always with success. The two
appear in every respect in contrast, and possess no similarities. One
may be called a nervous man, and the other a man of nerve. Sherman
derives his strength from the momentum resulting from the rapidity
with which he moves; Thomas moves slowly, but with equally resistless
power, and accomplishes his purposes by sheer strength. Sherman is
naturally the dashing leader of light, flying battalions; Thomas the
director of heavily-massed columns. He may be called heavy ordnance in
contradistinction to Sherman, who may be likened to a whole battery of
light rifle-guns; or, in the language of the prize-ring, Sherman is
a light-weight and quick fighter, while Thomas is a heavy, ponderous
pugilist, whose every blow is deadly. Sherman's plans are odd, if
not original. Though I have heard learned military critics deny that
they embraced new rules of war, still it can not be denied that his
campaigns have been out of the general order of military exploits.
Thomas, on the other hand, originates nothing, but most skillfully
directs his army on well-defined principles of the art. Sherman jumps
at conclusions; Thomas's mind and body act with equal deliberation, his
conclusions being arrived at after long and mature reflection. Sherman
never takes thought of unexpected contingencies or failure. There is
always a remedy for any failure of a part of Thomas's plans, or for
the delinquencies of subordinates. Sherman never hesitates to answer;
Thomas is slow to reply. One is quick and positive; the other is slow,
but equally positive. Thomas thinks twice before speaking once; and
when he speaks, his sentences are arranged so compactly, and, as it
were, so economically, that they convey his idea at once. It is given
as advice, but men receive it as an order, and obey it implicitly.
The habits of the two men are radically different. Sherman is an
innovator on the customs not only of the army, but every phase of
social life, and is at least one generation ahead of the American
people, fast as it imagines itself. Thomas belongs to a past
generation, and his exceedingly regular habits belong to the "good old
time." He has been confirmed by long service in the habits of camp,
and appears never to be satisfied unless living as is customary in
camps. In September, 1862, his division of Buell's army was encamped at
Louisville, Kentucky, his quarters being in the outskirts of the city.
While encamped here, Colonel Joe McKibbon, then a member of General
Halleck's staff, arrived from Washington City and delivered to Thomas
an order to relieve Buell, and assume command of the Army of the Ohio.
In order to put himself in communication with the commander-in-chief,
Thomas was compelled to ride into the city and take rooms at the hotel
nearest the telegraph office. He employed the day in communicating
with General Halleck, urging the retention of Buell, and in declining
the proposed promotion. Late at night he retired to his bed. But the
change from a camp-cot to clean feathers was too much for the general.
He found it impossible to sleep, and at a late hour in the night he
was compelled to send Captain Jacob Brown, his provost-marshal, to his
head-quarters for his camp-cot. The reorganization of the army, the
murder of General Nelson by Jeff. C. Davis, and other events occurring
about the same time, conspired to keep the general a guest or prisoner
at the hotel for a week. During all that time he slept as usual on his
cot, banished the chamber-maids from his room, and depended for such
duty as they usually performed on the old colored body-servant who had
attended him for many years.
System and method are absolutely necessary to Thomas's existence, and
nothing ruffles or excites him so much as innovations on his habits or
changes in his customs. He discards an old coat with great reluctance;
and during the earlier part of the war, when his promotions came to him
faster than he could wear out his uniforms, it was almost impossible to
find him donning the proper dress of his rank. He wore the uniform of
a colonel for several months after he had been confirmed a brigadier
general, and only donned the proper uniform when going into battle at
Mill Spring. He was confirmed a major general in June, 1862, but did
not mount the twin stars until after the battle of Stone River, fought
on the last day of the same year, and then they found their way to his
shoulders only by a trick to which his body-servant had been incited by
his aids. This methodical and systematic feature of his character found
an admirable illustration in an incident to which I was a witness
during the battle of Chickamauga. After the rout of the principal part
of the corps of McCook and Crittenden, Thomas was left to fight the
entire rebel army with a single corps of less than twenty thousand men.
The enemy, desirous of capturing this force, moved in heavy columns on
both its flanks. His artillery opened upon Thomas's troops from front
and both flanks; but still they held their ground until Steedman, of
Granger's corps, reached them with re-enforcements. I was sitting on my
horse near General Thomas when General Steedman came up and saluted
him.
"I am very glad to see you, general," said Thomas in welcoming him.
General Steedman made some inquiries as to how the battle was going,
when General Thomas, in a vexed manner, replied,
"The damned scoundrels are fighting without any system."
Steedman thereupon suggested that he should pay the enemy back in his
own coin. Thomas followed his suggestion. As soon as Granger came up
with the rest of his corps, he assumed the offensive; and while Bragg
continued to move on his flanks, he pushed forward against the rebel
centre, so scattering it by a vigorous blow that, fearful of having
his army severed in two, the rebel abandoned his flank movement in
order to restore his centre. This delayed the resumption of the battle
until nearly sunset, and Thomas was enabled to hold his position until
nightfall covered the retirement to Rossville Gap.
Thomas is not easily ruffled. It is difficult alike to provoke
his anger or enlist his enthusiasm. He is by no means blind to the
gallantry of his men, and never fails to notice and appreciate their
deeds, but they never win from him any other than the coldest words in
the coldest, but, at the same time, kindest of commendatory tones. He
grows really enthusiastic over nothing, though occasionally his anger
may be aroused. When it is, his rage is terrible. During the campaign
in Kentucky, in pursuit of Bragg in 1862, Thomas was second in command
of the army under Buell. The new recruits committed many depredations
upon the loyal Kentuckians. While the army was passing a small stream
near Bardstown, called "Floyd's Fork of Salt River," Thomas was
approached by a farmer whom he knew to be a good Union man, and who
made complaint that one of the general's staff officers had carried off
the only horse left on his farm. The general turned black with anger at
such an accusation against one of his staff officers, and demanded to
know who and where the offender was. The farmer pointed to a mounted
infantry officer, who was attached to one of the regiments and not to
the general's staff. The general rode up to him and demanded to know
where he had obtained the horse which he rode. The officer replied
that he had "impressed" him. The general knew the man had no authority
to impress horses, and, choking with rage, he poured on the devoted
head of the delinquent a torrent of invective. He drew his sword, and,
putting the point under the shoulder-straps of the officer, ripped them
off, and then compelled him to dismount and lead the animal to the
place whence he had stolen him. He also required him to pay the farmer
for his trouble and the loss of service of the animal.
When the battle of Mill Spring began it found Thomas in a bad humor,
and on the first opportunity he had for "pitching into" any one he did
not fail to take advantage of it. The victim was Colonel Mahlon D.
Manson, a rough, excitable, but gallant old Indianian, who was acting
brigadier in command of his own and two or three other regiments. Under
the old organization of the volunteer army no adequate provision for
aids for acting generals had been made, and Manson's only aid, his
regimental adjutant, happened to be out of the way; so, when the battle
opened, and he had posted his regiments to receive the attack, he
hastily rode back to General Thomas to report in person the disposition
he had made of his forces. It happened that in doing this Manson
lost his hat, and he made his appearance before Thomas hatless, with
disheveled hair, unwashed face, and incomplete toilet, and Thomas's
pent-up rage vented itself on him. He had no sooner begun to state his
position to Thomas than that officer interrupted him with,
"Damn you, sir, go back to your command and fight it."
Excited as Manson was, he caught the full meaning, and the perhaps
unmeant insinuation of the general's words, and returned to his command
much chagrined. Thomas's anger did not last long after finding this
vent. He grew pleasanter before the day was over, was in spirits long
before Zollicoffer's rout was complete, and when he came to write his
report a week afterward, spoke very highly of Manson.
The self-control and coolness of Thomas under fire, and amid the
excitement and dangers of battle, is absolutely surprising, and, until
I had seen at Chickamauga repeated instances of his imperturbation,
I did not believe that human nature was capable of it. In relating
one of the episodes of the battle, an account of which I published
at the time, I alluded, I thought then, and think now, very happily
to the general as the "Statue Thomas." During that terrible conflict
the statue warmed into life but twice. At daylight on the second day,
before the battle had been resumed, General Rosecrans rode along the
line of battle, examining the position which the troops of McCook and
Crittenden had taken as best they could, without other guide than
the sound of cannon or other director than stern necessity. He rode
up to Thomas's quarters near the left centre of the field and asked
him several questions regarding the battle of the day before. Thomas
alluded briefly to the events of the fight, and in speaking of his
brilliant charge exclaimed rather warmly, "Whenever I touched their
flanks they broke, general, they broke," repeating the last words with
unusual zest and evident satisfaction. I was listening with great
eagerness and looking squarely at the general, when he caught my eye,
and, as if ashamed of his momentary enthusiasm, the blood mounted to
his cheeks and he blushed like a woman. His eyes were bent immediately
on the ground, and the rest of his remarks were confined to a few brief
replies to the questions addressed to him.
The other instance to which I was a witness occurred during the
afternoon of the second day's battle, and in the midst of a lull which
had followed the retreat of McCook and Crittenden and the falling back
of Thomas's right division. The general was sitting in the rear of the
line of battle of his right as re-formed, engaged in watching a heavy
cloud of dust in the distance, and in such a direction that it might
be the enemy, or it might be the reserve forces of Gordon Granger,
which had been posted some distance in rear of the battle-field at
Rossville, and which it was hoped would march to the aid of the
army. The doubt under which he labored cast a visible cloud over the
general's spirits, and excited his nerves to an unusual degree. He had
no disposition to resume the fight, and, fearful of the result of the
next attack of the rebels, was anxious to avoid a resumption of the
battle. He consequently watched the development of the cloud of dust in
the distance with painful anxiety. If it dissolved to reveal friends,
then they were doubly welcome, for fresh friends insured the safe
retirement of that fraction of the army which still held its ground.
If it disclosed the enemy, then the day and army were lost, and it
became the duty of those who formed this "last square" at Chickamauga
to throw into the teeth of the victorious enemy a defiance as grandly
contemptuous as that of Cambronne, and die. There was no escape if the
troops advancing from the rear were, as it was feared, the cavalry of
the enemy. General Tom Wood, hearing some one express himself to this
effect, threw in a word of encouragement by saying that it was evident
it was not cavalry, "for," said he, "don't you see the dust rising
above them ascends in thick misty clouds, not in spiral columns, as it
would if the force was cavalry," a remark which indicated the close
observation of General Wood. The anxiety of General Thomas increased
with every moment of delay in the development of the character of
the advancing columns. At one time he said nervously to his staff,
"Take my glass, some of you whose horse stands steady--tell me what
you can see." I was standing near him at the moment looking through a
field-glass, and remarked that I felt sure that I could see the United
States flag.
"Do you think so? do you think so?" asked the general, nervously.
Shortly after, Captain G. M. L. Johnston, of General Negley's staff,
reported to Thomas for duty, and the general requested him to venture
toward the advancing force, and learn, if possible, to which army
it belonged. Johnston was gone for some time, running the gauntlet
of the rebel sharp-shooters, who were fast enveloping Thomas's left
wing. During his absence the anxiety of Thomas increased until it
grew painful to the observer, and the relaxation which followed the
revelation of the fact that the coming force were friends was a
positive relief to the by-standers. As Johnston returned with General
Steedman the nerves of Thomas calmed down, and his excitement was
hardly visible save in the petulant tone and manner in which he cursed
Bragg for fighting without any system. During the fight which ensued he
remained as passive and apparently as unconcerned as if he were in the
safest place imaginable.
During the morning of the second day of the same battle I was again
near General Thomas when the rebels made a vigorous attack on his
breast-works. He and a single staff officer were sitting a little in
the rear of the centre of the line, and just in range of the shells
which the enemy was throwing with great vigor and rapidity. While thus
exposed, a shell passed between the general and his aid, causing them
to look at each other with a quiet smile. A moment afterward another
shell took the same route. The general, instead of smiling this time,
turned to his aid and said,
"Major, I think we had better retire a little," and fell back a few
yards to a small wood.
On the night after this battle, and when the troops had retired to
Rossville, General Thomas was asked by Colonel B. F. Scribner to
take a cup of coffee at his camp-fire, and did so. Scribner had been
slightly wounded in the head, and the clotted blood still stood upon
his face, left there in order to prevent the wound from continuing to
bleed. Thomas sat down by Scribner, drank his coffee, saw the wound of
Scribner, talked of commonplace matters for half an hour, but never by
word or act alluded in the slightest way to the fact that he had just
fought one of the most important battles of the war, and saved the army
from annihilation. No one could have known from Thomas's remarks that a
battle had been raging, or that his host had been wounded.
One of the great faults of Thomas's character is due to this extreme
solidity of his nervous system. Without rendering him exactly selfish
or acrimonious, it has made him cold and undemonstrative in manner,
and rather insensible to the emotions. He is generous without being
enthusiastic, and kind without being at all demonstrative. He has
been compared to Washington, but the comparison was made by General
Rosecrans, who, by the way, knew nothing whatever of human nature,
and could not read it even with the best spectacles of saddest
experience; and the comparison holds good only thus far, that Thomas,
as Washington was, is portly of person and dignified of manner. His
undemonstrative manner has given to many the idea that he was incapable
of strong affections, firm friendships, or noble emotions; and the
only enemies whom he had were men with whom he had been on terms of
friendship, and who, falling under disfavor, looked in vain to him
for some demonstration of aid. There are two or three instances, not
proper to relate in detail, which have given Thomas's fellow-officers
the idea that he was selfishly cold; but I do not think such to be the
case, for, though cold and undemonstrative, Thomas has never revealed
aught of the selfish or envious in his character. His blood ran as
sluggishly as oil upon water, but it was from principle, if such a
thing could be, and I think it was in this case. One of the subordinate
commanders of Thomas's army, who distinguished himself at Stone River
and Chickamauga, was an Indiana colonel named Ben F. Scribner, a brave
officer, who, from his action at the battle of Perryville, Kentucky,
went by the name of "gallant little Scrib"--a sobriquet bestowed upon
him by General Lovell H. Rousseau, his immediate commander. After
the battle of Chickamauga, Scribner was not treated fairly in the
reorganization of the army by Rosecrans, and complained to General
Thomas, his corps commander, of the injustice done him. During the
conversation Colonel Scribner used the expression that he could not but
feel that a serious wrong had been done him, when Thomas slowly and
sadly said,
"Colonel, I have taken a great deal of pains to educate myself not to
feel."
This remark gives a wonderful insight into Thomas's nature, and will
explain much in his manner that is a mystery to thousands who have
studied his character.
General Garfield used to relate a story which gave rather a comical
turn to the general's undemonstrative style, and one which I do not
remember to have ever seen in print. In fact, it has been a somewhat
doubtful question with me as to whether I should be justified in
relating it, and only do so with the warning, "_Honi soit qui mal y
pense_." When General Thomas relieved Rosecrans at Chattanooga in 1863,
General Garfield remained with him for a time as chief of staff. One
morning the two officers were riding around the town, examining the
defenses which were then being built, when they heard some one hailing
with the cry,
"Hello, mister! you! I want to speak with you."
On looking around, General Thomas discovered that he was the "mister"
wanted, and that the person who had hailed him was one of those East
Tennessee soldiers who were always easily distinguishable from the
Northern soldiers by their peculiar rough, uncouth, and backwoods
appearance. He stopped, and the man approached him and began,
"Mister, I want to get a furlough."
"On what grounds do you want a furlough, my man?" asked the general.
"I want to go home and see my wife," replied the East Tennesseean.
"How long since you saw your wife?" asked the general.
"Ever since I enlisted--nigh on to three months."
"Three months!" exclaimed the general, good-naturedly. "Why, my good
man, I haven't seen my wife for three years."
The East Tennesseean stopped whittling the stick which he had in his
hand, and stared for a moment incredulously at the general.
"Wall, you see," he said at length, with a sheepish smile, "me and my
wife ain't that kind."
Shaking all over with laughter, the general put spurs to his horse and
galloped away, leaving the astonished soldier unanswered.
I should have enjoyed hugely hearing Thomas laugh aloud. During the
three years in which I saw him almost daily, and under all sorts of
circumstances, I never saw him _smile_ but once, and that was under
circumstances so peculiarly ridiculous that it would have provoked
laughter from Patience on a monument, or even the grief that she smiled
at. A low comedian, named Alf. Burnett, from one of the Cincinnati
theatres, essayed to become a war correspondent, and during the
summer of 1863 made his appearance in the camp of General Rosecrans,
quartering himself at Triune with Colonel James Brownlow, son of
the famous Parson Brownlow, and at that time in command of an East
Tennessee regiment. Burnett was very good as a mimic, and particularly
excelled in his delivery of a burlesque sermon in which the sentence
"He played upon a harp of a thousand strings, spirits of just men made
perfect," frequently occurred as a refrain. Colonel Brownlow on one
occasion invited Burnett to deliver this sermon before his regiment,
and, as a joke upon the chaplain of the command, that worthy was
requested to announce the occasion of its delivery, and when the time
arrived to open the services with a hymn. Burnett began his burlesque
sermon, and had gone through a considerable portion of it before the
chaplain and the soldiers began to suspect how much they had been
outraged. As soon as he perceived the nature of the performance, the
chaplain approached Burnett, took him by the back of the neck, marched
him to the camp limits, and with the injunction to "go and sin no
more," kicked him out of the camp. The facts were at the same time
represented to Rosecrans, who expelled Burnett from the department,
but, at the solicitations of some friends, the mimic was allowed to
return to make his explanations. After hearing Burnett's explanations,
Rosecrans insisted on hearing the "Hard-shell Baptist sermon," and
Burnett gave it in his best style. Rosecrans was delighted, declared
it was inimitable, and told Burnett he should remain at his quarters,
should deliver it nightly, and would have put him on his staff if
Burnett had asked it. The sermon became Rosecrans's hobby; he thought
and talked for a time of nothing else, and one night invited General
Thomas to quarters to hear it. The general and his staff came, and the
performance began with songs which did not interest, and continued with
the sermon, which, much to Rosecrans's surprise, did not amuse "old
Thom." But, after Burnett's farce had been finished, Rosecrans called
upon Colonel Horace Porter, of the Ordnance Department, for a song, and
Porter gave a comic Irish song in the best brogue, accompanying himself
by imitating the playing upon Scotch bagpipes. Porter was one of the
most dignified, quiet, sedate, and elegant officers of the army at
Rosecrans's head-quarters; and the ridiculousness of his attitude, the
contrast with his usual appearance and manner, was too much for General
Thomas, and he "smiled" almost audibly several times during the song. I
never afterward saw the fun stirred up in Thomas.
The contrast between Thomas and Sherman may be extended even to their
personal appearance and habits; and in these, as in character, the
difference is most marked. Thomas's figure is very striking. Something
of his height is lost to the eye by the heaviness of his figure. If he
were as thin as Sherman, he would look the six feet two or three inches
which have been ignorantly attributed to him. He is really about five
feet ten or eleven inches in height, but so much does his heaviness
detract from the appearance of height that he does not appear so tall.
Thick-set, robust, and healthy, he moves heavily and slowly, but by
no means feebly or unsteadily. His beard and hair were sandy at the
beginning of the late war, but they have since become silver sprinkled,
and add to the great dignity of his appearance. His features are all
large, with the exception of his nose--a long, thin Grecian feature
which Napoleon would have admired. His lips are rather thick, rounded,
and red. His chin and jaws, large and squarely cut, with his great,
steady, though not bright eyes, indicate, more than any others of his
features, his firmness and positiveness of character. His countenance
is at all times severe and grave, but not necessarily stern. He
seldom smiles; but the constant seriousness of his countenance is not
repulsive. It may be said to be forbidding. It certainly forbids
trifling. The simplest-minded man, seeking audience of him, will
understand, on being received by the general, by a glance at his
countenance, that he must be brief and to the point. His presence is
no place for loungers. His visitors must have business to transact or
retire, and they never require any other hint than the countenance
of the general. He is a man in earnest, and it does not take long
to discover it. He is perhaps as free from display and pretension
as any man in the army. He never does any thing for "effect." His
manner admits of no familiarity. There is dignity in every gesture,
but not necessarily either grace or love. His style of living in camp
is comfortable and even elegant. His mess consists of himself and
two aids. His mess ware is principally silver of elaborate finish.
I breakfasted once or twice with the general during the Chickamauga
campaign. On the occasion of each visit daylight and breakfast were
announced simultaneously by an elderly, dignified, and cleanly-attired
colored servant, who brought me an excellent punch, with "Colonel
Flynt's compliments," as an appetizer. The breakfast-table was spread
under the fly of the tent, which served as a kitchen, and on it smoked
fresh beef, ham, and strong black coffee. At each silver plate was a
napkin of the purest white, artistically folded in the latest style of
the first-class hotels, a silver water-goblet, a china cup, and the
usual knives and silver forks. Better beef and better coffee could not
have been found in the country in which the army was campaigning, while
the hot rolls and potatoes, baked in the hot ashes of a neighboring
fire, would have made many a French cook blush.
When beginning the campaign of Atlanta Sherman endeavored to effect an
important innovation in the habits of his army by carrying out to the
very letter his instructions to "move light," _i.e._, without extra
baggage. In order to impress upon his officers the necessity of setting
a good example to the men, he published an order, in which he stated
that the "general commanding intended making the campaign without tent
or baggage." The hint was lost on most of the officers, and among
others on Thomas, who moved in his usual heavy style, with a complete
head-quarter train and the usual number of tents, adding indeed to the
usual allowance a large wagon arranged with desks, which, when covered
by a hospital-tent fly, made a very complete adjutant general's office.
The campaign began, and Sherman made several days' march without
his tent, sleeping any where that night overtook him, but before
reaching Resaca he was very glad to take up his abode near Thomas's
head-quarters, and make use of his tents and adjutant general's office.
No one has ever accused General Thomas of being a genius either
militarily or otherwise. He neither plans campaigns with the aptitude
and originality of Sherman, nor fights battles with the vigor and
abandon of Sheridan. Thomas's success has been obtained by long service
and patient industry, and he is an example of what may be accomplished
by the unremitting toil of a practical man. He is possessed naturally
of that good, clear sense which is often inappropriately called
common sense, but which is of no common order at all. He has never
been brilliantly educated, and is neither a brilliant thinker nor
converser. He is doubtless well versed in West Point lore and the art
of war. His education has been derived principally from a long and
varied experience with the world, which has rendered him pre-eminently
a practical man. His mind consequently takes naturally, as has been
before stated, to method, and every thing he does is completed (in
the full sense of the word) in a methodical manner. There is little
that is original in his plans or his mode of executing them, but
all are distinguished for their practicability and completeness.
His calculations leave a wide range for contingencies, delays, and
accidents, and are not easily disturbed by untoward incidents and
unexpected developments. He never goes into a campaign or battle
without knowing exactly how to get out of it safely, in case the
necessity for retreating arises. He has on more than one occasion
furnished the means of getting the armies of others out of danger.
At Stone River, when Rosecrans was defeated and his council of war
proposed to retreat, Thomas showed that the safety of the army depended
upon remaining and assuming the defensive. At Chickamauga, when the
same leader left his army in the midst of a terrible battle and at the
beginning of a rout of the greater part of it, Thomas again came to the
rescue, and covered the retreat in a manner which saved the day and the
army.
With his troops Thomas is a most popular leader. He has the deep-seated
and deep-rooted affection of his men, which is not the less sincere
because it is undemonstrative. He is looked upon by the army with a
sort of affectionate reverence, and he possesses in the highest degree
the confidence of his men. To this more than to any other feeling,
person, or circumstance, the nation owed the safety of its army at
Chickamauga. This feeling of confidence in its leader did more to
hold his corps together on that day--did more to keep up the _esprit
de corps_ of his command during the terrible attacks to which it was
subjected, than did all the discipline which had otherwise been drilled
into the men. The men of the two routed _corps_ were just as good,
just as brave, and just as tenacious fighters as were Thomas's men,
but they had no faith at all in the wisdom of their leaders, McCook
and Crittenden, who were not men of either inspiring presence or iron
qualities. Men will not stand and fight under officers in whom they
have not the most implicit faith. Such confidence is reposed in Thomas
to the fullest degree, and is accompanied by an affectionate regard
which adds to its strength.
Soldiers, as I have had occasion to remark elsewhere, have a very
natural mode of expressing their affection by titles of endearment,
indicative of the peculiarities of the subjects of their admiration.
Thomas has been christened with dozens of "nicknames." When he was
at West Point and in the regular army in Mexico, he was called "Old
Reliable," from his recognized and proverbial fidelity to the service.
During the Mill Spring and Stone River campaigns he won from his men
the sobriquet of "Old Pap Safety." This was subsequently boiled down
into "Pap Thomas," by which name he is called more frequently than
by any other. His slow gait, and quiet, dignified style of riding,
gained him the title of "Old Slow-trot." "Uncle George" and "George H."
are often used by the men in facetious hours, and the titles always
linger on the tongues of the soldiers like sweet morsels. And though
these titles are used by the men with an air and in a tone indicating
familiarity with their leader, none of them ever knew him, in his
communication with them, to sacrifice his dignity in the slightest
degree. They have no difficulty in reaching his ear. They always find
a patient listener and a sound adviser, and a kindly mannered and
pleasant director. He never laughs and jokes with soldiers or officers,
but his mild voice and quiet manner win him more of the love of his men
than any momentary familiarity could do. I have known him to halt in
the march and spend ten or fifteen minutes in directing stragglers to
their commands.
General Thomas is the purest man I met in the army. He was the Bayard
of our army--"_sans peur, sans reproche_," and I have endeavored in
vain to find a flaw in his character. His character is free from every
stain, and he stands forth in the army as above suspicion. He has gone
through the war without apparently exciting the jealousy of a single
officer. He has so regulated his advancement--so retarded, in fact,
his promotion, that when, as the climax to two years' hard service,
he fought a great battle and saved a great army, and was hailed and
recognized by the whole country as a hero, not one jealous or defeated
officer was found to utter dissent to this popular verdict.
There was at one time some ill feeling between Grant and Thomas,
growing out of the anomalous position in which both were placed by
Halleck when the army was besieging Corinth, but I believe that was
cleared up. General Grant was made second in command under Halleck,
and his army was given to Thomas, who remained in active command in the
field. Grant's position was really none at all; it was not recognized
by regulations or uses, and was felt by him to be an insult put upon
him (he imagined at one time) at the instigation of General Thomas.
Such was not the fact, however, and General Grant so became finally
convinced.
The late rebellion was the school of many of our best officers, and
dearly did the country pay in its best blood the tuition of some. Bull
Run was the price which the country paid for having its erroneous
idea of war violently corrected. The failure of the first assault on
Vicksburg and of the attack on Kenesaw Mountain were fearful prices
paid to correct certain errors of judgment in Sherman's mind. We paid
for McClellan's violation of a well-known rule of war in placing the
Chickahominy between his battalions. Numerous similar instances might
be named, showing how the country has been compelled to pay terrible
penalties of blood for the ignorance of unworthy and incompetent
leaders; but enough. Thomas's training in the art of war has cost the
country not a single disaster or sacrifice. On the contrary, he has
saved the country, on more than one occasion, the fearful penalty
it was about to pay for the ignorance of other leaders. He has been
prominent in three grand campaigns. Two of them he has conducted on his
own plans and in person. In the other he acted as second in command.
The two which he planned and conducted were complete successes; and the
other, as far as he was concerned, a magnificent triumph. His first
campaign in the war for the Union was that against the fortified
camp of Zollicoffer at Mill Springs, Kentucky. His plan embraced an
assault upon the rebel works; but before he could get into position
to do this the enemy marched out of his works and attacked him in his
camp, failing in an attempt to surprise him. The rebels failed also
in the battle which ensued, and were terribly defeated, with heavy
loss, and at the sacrifice of the organization of their army. Night
alone, under cover of which it crossed the Cumberland River, prevented
the capture of the entire rebel force. Fourteen pieces of artillery,
fifteen hundred horses, with all the stores of the enemy and a large
number of prisoners, fell into our hands. This victory was complete,
and doubly welcomed as the first positive success since the battle of
Bull Run. The country hailed it as the first sign of the rejuvenation
and reorganization of the army. The rebel "army of Western Kentucky"
has never been heard of since that disastrous day; and George B.
Crittenden, its commander, sank at once into disgrace and oblivion as a
consequence of his defeat.
In the campaign and battle of Chickamauga Thomas was second in command
to Rosecrans, but in all its important actions his is the principal
figure. The story of Chickamauga has been often, and, in one or two
instances, well told; but the whole truth about it must be reserved
until time shall permit the historian to tell it without fear or
favor. Thomas stands forth the undisputed hero of that day--the single
spirit upon whom all depends. He is the central figure. There are no
heroes beside him. The young and noble ones who died, as Lytle and
Burnham, Van Pelt and Jones, and those not less noble spirits who
distinguished themselves and lived to be rewarded, as Baird and Dick
Johnston, old Steedman and young Johnston, who guided his columns to
the assault, Wood and Harker--all these surrounding Thomas but add to
his glory as the parhelion adds to the beauty of the sun. On the first
day at Chickamauga Thomas did his share toward the destruction of a
great rebel army, but it was in vain. The fruits of his victory were
frittered away by the incompetency of others. There was no general
advance when he advanced. On the second day it was too late; the enemy
had succeeded in crossing his whole army over the Chickamauga, and
the opportunity to destroy his forces in detail was gone forever.
Circumstances then devolved upon Thomas the task of saving a great
army, not destroying one. The duty was nobly performed, and the army
nobly saved; and though those who were not present, and who judge
of the battle from hearsay, may be mystified by the circumlocution
and vagueness of official reports, those who stayed at Chickamauga
know very well that Thomas _alone_ retrieved that disaster and saved
Rosecrans's army.
A short time after I had published in Harper's Magazine the sketch of
General Thomas, of which this is a revised edition, I received many
letters from old friends complaining that I had not done him justice
in using the expression "Thomas originates nothing," and many were the
instances quoted showing his originality of mind and plans. None of the
arguments or examples given were convincing, however, and I have left
the expression unchanged. One of these complainants stated that General
Thomas was the originator of the plan to go through Snake Creek Gap in
order to get upon Joe Johnston's rear and flank; but I am inclined to
think this an error. The writer narrated that a few days after starting
on the Atlanta campaign in May, 1864, Sherman, having thoroughly
reconnoitred Rocky Face Ridge, the defensive line of the enemy, decided
that it was necessary to storm and carry the position. Sitting one day
on the railroad bank in front of Buzzard Roost Gap, he confided this
opinion to General Thomas.
"It can't be done, general," Thomas answered; "the ridge can not be
carried."
"But it must be," said the impetuous Sherman, with his usual petulance.
General Thomas repeated his observation.
"But then we can't stay here," urged Sherman; "we must go ahead--we
can't stop here. There is nothing left but to assault the ridge."
"Have you tried every other means, general? Can't we go around them?"
asked Thomas, at the same time unfolding his map.
"Yes, yes, we have tried all other means."
"Why can't we go through Snake Creek Gap?" asked Thomas. The voices
of the two, according to my informant, here became lowered; the two
generals bent their heads over the map; and it is claimed by Thomas's
admirer that the result of that conversation was the occupation of
the mountain gorge of Snake Creek Gap. Although told with much detail
and precision, I am not at all disposed to credit this story, and I
am convinced that, though not without foundation, there is an error
somewhere. Another admirer of General Thomas wrote me claiming for him
the credit of having originated and planned "Sherman's march to the
sea." He states that, shortly after the occupation of Atlanta, and
while Hood's army was still in Sherman's front, General Thomas proposed
to General Sherman to take the 14th and 20th _corps_, and march through
the state to Savannah or some point on the coast equally important.
The plan was not immediately acted on; information was received of
Hood's purpose to flank Atlanta and go northward, and General Thomas
was sent to Nashville to organize the forces there in order to meet
him. Hood did move north, and Sherman decided to leave him to the care
or the mercy of Thomas, while he, with the 14th, 15th, 17th, and 20th
corps, twice the force originally said to have been proposed by Thomas,
and really three times the force actually necessary for the movement,
made the march which Thomas had planned. I very much doubt the full
truth of this statement, though I do not know that it is untrue in any
particular. But whether or not he planned it matters little; Thomas
at Nashville may be said to have executed it, and to him, and not to
Sherman, belongs the credit of its success. I have always wondered how
Sherman came to delegate the subordinate, Thomas, with the lesser half
of the army, to fight the main battles and conduct the real campaign,
while he, the superior officer, with the greater half of the force,
made a detour in which no danger was encountered--no danger, in fact,
apprehended--and which could have been better effected with half the
force.
When the London Times characterized Sherman's march to the sea as the
"Anabasis of Sherman," and declared that it was virtually a retreat,
the London Times was exactly right, but the American people "could not
see it." But the stupidity of the rebels made that retreat a success
instead of a disaster to us. Had the Fabian policy of Joe Johnston
prevailed--had Atlanta been surrendered without a struggle, and had
the rebels been content to cover Macon with their infantry and employ
their cavalry in destroying the single railroad which inadequately
supplied Sherman's army, the retreat to Savannah and the sea would have
been instead a retreat to Chattanooga. When Hood removed his army from
Sherman's front, he presented that already doubting general with a
second alternative, whereas he had but one before, and permitted him to
choose of two routes by which to retreat. Sherman chose, for the sake
of the morale of his men and of the people, to "retreat forward" to
Savannah instead of "advancing backward" to Chattanooga, and went off
at a tangent to the sea. His unexpected detour did not interfere with
Hood's plans. The rebel had no more and no fewer enemies to fight than
he would have had if Sherman had followed him. Sherman could not have
concentrated his forces at Nashville in time to meet Hood, for portions
of the last force which, under General Steedman, fell back from
Chattanooga to re-enforce Nashville were cut off by the enemy and did
not reach the field at all. With this view in his mind, apprehending no
danger from Sherman, and believing he could defeat Thomas, Hood pushed
on, with what result is known. He met Thomas at Nashville, and the
consequence was his annihilation. The success of Thomas made Sherman's
march a success, and hence the former deserves the full credit for the
latter's achievement. How great this credit is can be seen by forming
in the mind an idea of the consequences which would have attended a
failure on Thomas's part. Had he been defeated Nashville would have
fallen; Hood would have marched into Kentucky and appeared on the line
of the Ohio, while Sherman, making his appearance a thousand leagues
away on the South Atlantic coast, would have found himself written down
a great failure instead of a great general.
The battles of Nashville were not greater in result than grand in
execution, and are, to my mind, Thomas's finest examples of grand
tactics. I can not here allude to them in detail. The operations were
conducted in a manner characteristic of the man. The retreat and
concentration at Nashville was a masterly performance, executed without
confusion and completed without loss. The battle before the city was
one of hard blows and simple manœuvres, fought after ample preparation
and due deliberation. The columns were heavy and massed, and the lines
strong and deep. The action was slow and measured. In the midst of
the engagement there were numerous lulls--pauses employed in dreadful
preparation, in re-arranging lines and massing columns. There were
numerous deliberate assaults of strong positions, and in every minute
detail of the general plan there was visible a combined effort of each
part of the army to reach some vital point of the enemy's position,
the key of the battle-field. When this was won the battle was ended.
The victory was the result of cool, deliberate action. The troops were
tools in the hands of their leader, and were made willing and trusty
instruments through the absolute and unbounded confidence which they
felt in him.
In the three campaigns of Mill Spring, Chickamauga, and Nashville, the
career of General Thomas is chiefly embraced. In the minor events of
his military career there is nothing to detract from the glory which
attaches to him in these.
[Illustration: ULYSSES S. GRANT.]