_General Grant as Commander-in-chief with the Army of the Potomac--How
Grant Fought His Men--Not a Retreating 'Man--The Overland Campaign--The
Grand Finale--After the War--The Old Commander in Troy--En Route to
MacGregor--Mustered Out._
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HEN U. S. Grant was promoted to lieutenant-general, and assigned to
command all the armies of the United States, the announcement was
received by the Army of the Potomac without any marked evidence of
approval or disapproval. There was no enthusiasm whatever among the
troops in winter quarters around Warrenton.
A few expressed the opinion that the “Western importation” would not
come up to the country's expectations when brought face to face with the
great rebel chief, who was personally acquainted with every inch of the
ground on which the battles of Virginia must be fought. Then there was
a feeling, though not outspoken to any great extent, that the new-comer,
being a stranger to Lee's tactics, and unacquainted with the Eastern
troops, would be placed at such a disadvantage, that the Confederate
leader would be enabled to “play all around” Grant, and demoralize
the Union army. The veterans of the grand old Army of the Potomac were
prepared to fight--to the death, if need be--no matter who received the
three stars of a lieutenant-general. They were loyal to their flag, and
that carried with it loyalty to the new commander.
Probably it did not occur to a dozen soldiers in the Army of the Potomac
that Grant would adopt tactics of his own, instead of following in
the beaten paths of former commanders. No one suspected that the
lieutenant-general would be able to knock the bottom out of the Southern
Confederacy inside of twelve months after his first order for the
advance of the army had been promulgated. We all believed that the Union
cause would triumph. But when? Three years had rolled round since
the rebels fired on Sumter. And “Uncle Robert,” with his veterans in
butternut, still flaunted the stars and bars as defiantly as ever,
within a few miles of the national capital.
Company I, First Massachusetts cavalry, received the news at first in
the same spirit that other companies in our locality received it. The
new commander's qualifications were discussed in the light of what had
been heard of his career in the West. How much light we had received may
be inferred from a discussion around the reserve picket fire on Water
Mountain, a detachment of the Sixth Ohio and First Pennsylvania cavalry
being on duty with our regimental detail:
“Who's this Grant that's made lieutenant-general?”
“He's the hero of Vicksburg.”
“Well, Vicksburg wasn't much of a fight. The rebs were out of rations,
and they had to surrender or starve. They had nothing but dead mules and
dogs to eat, as I understand it.”
“Yes; but it required a good deal of strategy to keep Pemberton's army
cooped up in Vicksburg till they were so weak for want of grub that they
couldn't skedaddle even if they had found a hole to crawl out of.”
“I don't believe Grant could have penned any of Lee's generals up after
that fashion. Early, or Long-street, or Jeb Stuart would have broken out
some way and foraged around for supplies.”
“Maybe so.”
“Pemberton couldn't hold a candle to Lee.”
“Of course not.”
“What else has Grant done?”
“He has whipped the Johnnies every time they have faced him, all the way
from Fort Donelson to Chattanooga.”
“He's a fighter, then?”
“That's what they call him.”
“Bully for Grant!”
“Where does he hail from?”
“Galena, Ill. He was clerking in a leather store when the war broke
out.”
“I don't care if he was in Illinois when the war began, he was born in
Ohio, graduated at West Point, and served in Mexico and out West.”
“Hurrah for Ohio!” (chorus of the Sixth Ohio cavalry). “Hurrah for
Grant!”
“Hurrah!”
“Hurrah!”
“Hurrah!”
“Tiger!”
I do not know but what the “Ohio idee” was inaugurated on our picket
line away back there in 1864. At any rate the Sixth Ohio boys insisted,
when they were assured that the lieutenant-general was a native of that
State, that “Bob Lee's goose was as good as cooked already.” It was
rather a crude way of expressing a prophecy that proved as true as Holy
Writ. The Ohio Volunteers were ready to cross sabers with the enemy
without more ado. Grant was from Ohio, and that settled it.
The Bay State boys indorsed Grant after his record had been established.
To be sure there was our own Gen. Butler, the hero of New Orleans.
Butler was then in command of the Army of the James, with Fortress
Monroe as his base of supplies. Somehow we had come to associate Butler
with naval expeditions, and never thought of him in connection with a
campaign on land beyond the support of the gunboats. It is probable that
our estimates of military men were influenced by what we read in the
newspapers. One of the boys declared that in a description of the
capture of New Orleans he had read, mention was made of Butler being
“lashed to the maintop,” while the fleet under Farragut was fighting its
way up the Mississippi under fire from the guns of Forts Jackson and St.
Philip. Said an Ohio trooper:
“I don't believe that story.”
“Neither do I. I'm only telling you what I read.”
“I think Butler had better stay in the navy.”
“But he isn't a sailor; he's a major-general of volunteers.”
“Well, there's no telling how he might cut up on dry land. He'd better
keep his sea legs on and stay where if he gets whipped he can't run.”
The veterans from the Keystone State had not lost faith in “Little Mac.”
They contended that McClellan had been handicapped just at a moment when
he was “about to execute a _coup de main_ that would prove a _coup de
grâce_ to the Southern Confederacy!” Meade was the second choice of the
Pennsylvanians. His splendid victory over Lee at Gettysburg had brought
him into the front rank. He had won the gratitude of the whole North,
Copperheads excepted. Checking Lee's advance Northward, whipping the
rebel army and compelling the defeated Confederacy to “about face” and
put for home, gave Gen. Meade a big place in the hearts of the soldiers
and the loyal people of the Keystone State. Surely the patriots of the
North had good cause to rejoice on the eighty-seventh anniversary of
the signing of the Declaration of Independence. On that day
Grant's victorious army raised the stars and stripes over the rebel
fortifications at Vicksburg, and the Mississippi was opened to the sea;
and Lee's army of Northern Virginia was retreating from the scene of its
unsuccessful attack on Meade's army at Gettysburg.
Within forty-eight hours after the Union troops had crossed the Rapidan
under the direction of Gen. Grant, there was not a soldier in the Army
of the Potomac but what felt that the lieutenant-general meant business.
The official records on file at Washington show that during that two
days' terrible struggle in the Wilderness--May 5 and 6, 1864--the loss
sustained by the Army of the Potomac was 13,948, of which 2,261 were
killed, 8,785 wounded and 2,902 taken prisoners or missing. Then came
Spottsylvania, with an aggregate Union loss of 13,601. The total loss
sustained by the Army of the Potomac, the Army of the James and by
Sheridan's operations in the valley, from May 1, 1864, to the surrender
of Lee at Appomattox, April 9, 1865, is given in official compilations
at 99,772--14,601 killed, 61,452 wounded and 23,719 missing. In the
meantime the Federal forces operating in Virginia captured 81,112
Confederates, and Lee's killed and wounded are believed to have been
equal to Grant's, but the “scattering” of the rebels after Richmond
fell, and the destruction of Confederate records, made it impossible to
arrive at the exact figures.
As already stated, the veterans of the Army of the Potomac were
satisfied that Grant was a fighting man. During the period beginning
with the opening skirmish in the Wilderness, and continuing down to the
end of the conflict at Appomattox, there was not wanting evidence
of Grant's determination to “fight his men” for all they were worth
whenever opportunity presented for hammering the rebels. There was no
going back this time. It was “On to Richmond” in earnest. The Army of
the Potomac was ready to be led against the enemy. There was general
rejoicing all along the line when the command was given, “By the left
flank, forward!” and the Federals moved toward Spottsylvania instead of
retreating across the Rapidan, as President Lincoln said any previous
commander of the Army of the Potomac would have done at the close of
such a battle as that fought in the Wilderness.
In Richardson's “Personal History of U. S. Grant,” it is stated that in
the rebel lines it was believed that our army was falling back at the
close of the conflict in the Wilderness. The account continues:
Gordon said to Lee: “I think there is no doubt but that Grant is
retreating.”
“You are mistaken,” replied the Confederate chief earnestly, “quite
mistaken. Grant is not retreating; he is not a retreating man.”
Lee was right. The Army of the Potomac was never again marched back
across the Rapidan until after the backbone of the Confederacy had been
broken, and the gallant Union soldiers were en route to Washington to be
mustered out.
I first saw Gen. Grant while the battle of the Wilderness was going on.
In changing position during the fight, our regiment was marched around
by Meade's headquarters. There were a dozen or more officers grouped
about Gen. Grant and Gen. Meade. The latter wore the full uniform of a
major-general, including sword and sash. He was somewhat fussy in giving
directions, and a stickler for red tape. But Meade was a soldier “from
heels up.” Grant was plainly dressed, and wore no sword. His coat was
unbuttoned, and not until he was pointed out as the commander-in-chief
was he recognized by the troopers who were riding across the field.
“There's Gen. Grant.”
“Where?”
“On the left of Gen. Meade.”
“That officer with his coat open?”
“Yes; that's Grant.”
Off went our caps, and the commander acknowledged our cheer by raising
his hat.
Just then there was a terrific firing along Hancock's front, and Grant
galloped over in that direction after a moment's conversation with
Meade. We took up the trot, and in a few minutes found plenty to do out
on the road leading to Todd's tavern. When a breathing spell came, the
boys had their say about the lieutenant-general.
“I expected to see him all covered with gold lace and other fixin's,”
said one.
“He looks as if he would stay with 'em till somebody cried enough.”
“He's got good qualities, anyway,” remarked Taylor.
“How can you tell?”
“Because he smokes fine cigars, and rides a good hoss. I got a smell of
that cigar as he cantered by to see what was going on in front of the
second corps. I think--”
The discussion was cut short by another attempt of the Johnnies to
hustle us back from the position held by our brigade. We protested so
vigorously that the rebels retreated after making three or four dashes
against our advance squadrons. It was warm work in the Wilderness. One
of our boys exclaimed:
“If any of us get out of this Wilderness alive, our chances will be good
to see the end of the Southern Confederacy.”
“Yea, verily,” groaned a corporal who had been shot in the arm.
That Grant had no suspicion of being in a tight box, as the rebel
sympathizers at the North declared he was, is shown by the fact that at
the very moment when his defamers asserted he was so badly crippled
that had Lee attacked the Union army Grant's forces would have been
destroyed, the lieutenant-general was so much on the aggressive that
he was marching to renew the battle at Spottsylvania, and felt able
to spare Sheridan and his splendid cavalry corps for a raid on Lee's
communications.
We saw Grant again when we rejoined the army; at Cold Harbor, on the
march to the south side of the James several times, and during the
assaults in front of Petersburg. While in winter quarters we saw the
lieutenant-general often at City Point and along the line, and the
more we saw of him the higher he rose in our estimation. Then came
the campaign of 1865, ending with the surrender of the rebel army at
Appomattox. Grant was a modest officer, not given to display, but when
the Army of the Potomac awoke to the fact that Lee's army was in
the “last ditch,” then, and not till then, did the soldiers begin to
appreciate the true greatness of the commander-in-chief.
The downfall of Richmond and the capture of Lee's army silenced even
the assistant Confederates at the North. It was a grand victory--a
magnificent triumph of superior generalship combined with a patriotism
that had never wavered in the face of armed rebellion.
After the surrender I next saw Grant in Washington on the grand review
in May, 1865. He was on the stand in front of the White House with a
large crowd of dignitaries, including President Johnson.
I saw the old commander but three times after the war closed. The first
time was on the occasion of his visit to Troy, N. Y., several years ago.
He attended and spoke at a public installation of Post Willard, Grand
Army of the Republic, at Music Hall. He was accompanied to the city
by Governor Cornell, and a grand parade was had in which all the local
military organizations and veterans participated. The general and the
governor occupied a carriage with Gen. J. B. Carr and Honorable John M.
Francis, and dined with Mr. Francis at his residence. I was glad of the
opportunity to grasp the old commander's hand.
I had the pleasure, as a representative of the Troy _Daily Times_, to
accompany the Grant family from Albany to Saratoga about the middle of
June, 1885. It was, indeed, a pleasure to meet the hero of Appomattox
again, but the heart of the soldier who had served under Grant from the
Wilderness to Appomattox and had been present when the surrender took
place, was saddened to find the old warrior only a shadow of his former
self. Only once on the trip to Mount MacGregor did the general display
any of that martial spirit that twenty years before had animated the
commander-in-chief and inspired his gallant army. It was at Saratoga
Springs during his transfer from the palace coach on which he traveled
from New York to Saratoga to the car that was to convey him up the
mountain to MacGregor. The Grand Army veterans and the local national
guard company gave the distinguished visitor a military salute. The
general raised himself on his crutches, took in the situation at a
glance, and as he acknowledged the salute with his hand, the old-time
light came into the eye, and the foremost general of modern times was
recognized in the person of the almost helpless invalid.
Thursday, July 23, 1885, the news of the brave general and honored
ex-President's death was flashed over the wires from the top of Mount
MacGregor, and a whole nation was in mourning. Old soldiers met in the
streets and grasped each other by the hand. “The old commander's dead,”
was about all they could say; their sorrow was too deep for words.
From all sections of the Union, and from across the ocean messages of
condolence and sympathy were sent to the bereaved family at MacGregor.
I attended the funeral of the dead hero at Mount MacGregor, Tuesday,
August 4, 1885. Of the pallbearers two, Buckner and Joe Johnston, had
fought under the stars and bars, while Sherman and Sheridan had been
the deceased commander's most trusted lieutenants. Never before had
a funeral taken place under such circumstances. The exercises were
remarkably impressive. The closing verse of the beautiful hymn which was
sung before the Rev. Dr. J. P. Newman began his memorial sermon seemed
particularly appropriate:
“When ends life's transient dream;
When death's cold, sullen stream
Shall o'er me roll;
Blest Saviour, then in love,
Fear and distress remove;
O bear me safe above
A ransom'd soul.”
After Dr. Newman's glowing tribute came the closing hymn, led by Mrs.
Whitney, soprano, of Boston, and in which the congregation joined:
“Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!
E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me;
Still all my song shall be--
Nearer, my God, to Thee!
Nearer to Thee!”
As the echoes of the general's favorite hymn rang through the tall trees
that surmounted the mountain top, the benediction was pronounced, and
the remains of the old commander were borne to the funeral train.
Gen. Hancock was in charge. Down the mountain to Saratoga the train
proceeded. At the village the casket was transferred to the funeral car
in which the remains were taken to Albany and subsequently to New York.
The gallant Sherman, Sheridan, Hancock and other noble heroes have since
answered their last roll-call on earth--gone to swell the ranks of the
great majority beyond the river. In a few years the veterans who fought
under Grant will all pass over, but their deeds of valor will ever live
in song and story. The name of Grant is inscribed on the nation's roll
of patriots side by side with that of the martyred Lincoln. Of the hero
of Appomattox it can be truly said that he was--
“Our greatest, yet with least pretense,
Great in council and great in war,
Foremost captain of his time,
Rich in saving common sense,
And, as the greatest only are,
In his simplicity sublime.”
Note--This chapter was published in the Troy Daily Times at the time of
Gen. Grant's death, and it is deemed best to insert it without change,
although the events are not presented in chronological order with the
other chapters.--S. P. A.