While Lee had been disposing of McClellan, Pope and Burnside, Grant had
remained in comparative idleness near Corinth, Mississippi. He had,
it is true, been assigned to high command in the West when Halleck
was ordered to Washington, but the battle of Shiloh had prejudiced the
authorities against him and his troops were gradually transferred to
other commanders, leaving him with an army barely sufficient to guard
the territory it already held. This treatment seriously depressed him
and with plenty of time to brood over his troubles, he was in some
danger of lapsing into the bad habits which had once had such a fatal
hold upon him. But at this crisis his wife was by his side to steady and
encourage him, and the Confederates soon diverted his thoughts from
his own grievances by giving him plenty of work to keep them at arm's
length. Meanwhile, however, something much more disturbing occurred, for
he suddenly discovered that preparations were being made to place his
long-cherished campaign for the opening of the Mississippi River in
the hands of McClernand, the political General whose conduct at Fort
Donelson had demonstrated his ignorance of military affairs.
That aroused Grant to action and hastily summoning Admiral Porter and
General Sherman to his aid, he started towards Vicksburg, Mississippi,
on November 2, 1862, determined to be the first in the field and thus
head off any attempt to displace him from the command.
McClernand's project was accordingly nipped in the bud, for, of course,
he could not be authorized to conduct a campaign already undertaken by
a superior officer, and the troops which had been intended for him
were immediately forwarded to Grant. Doubtless, the President was not
displeased at this turn of affairs, for although McClernand was a
highly important person in the political world and had rendered valuable
services in raising troops, his defects as a general were widely
recognized, and there had been grave doubts as to the wisdom of
permitting him to attempt so difficult an undertaking as the capture of
Vicksburg. Within a few months, however, there were even graver doubts
as to the wisdom of having entrusted the enterprise to Grant, for by the
end of March, 1863, the general opinion was that no one could have
made a worse mess of it than he was making, and that it was hopeless to
expect anything as long as he was in authority.
As a matter of fact, the immense difficulty of capturing a city such as
Vicksburg had not been realized until the work was actually undertaken.
It was practically a fortress commanding the Mississippi, and whoever
held it ruled the river. The Confederate leaders understood this very
thoroughly and they had accordingly fortified the place, which was
admirably adapted for defense, with great care and skill. In front of
it flowed the Mississippi, twisting and turning in such snake-like
conditions that it could be navigated only by boats of a certain length
and build, and on either side of the city stretched wide swamp lands and
bayous completely commanded by batteries well posted on the high ground
occupied by the town. All this was formidable enough in itself, but
shortly after Grant began his campaign, the river overflowed its banks
and the whole country for miles was under water which, while not deep
enough for steamers, was an absolute barrier to the approach of an army.
Indeed, the capture of the city seemed hopeless from a military
standpoint, but Grant would not abandon the task. Finding traces of an
abandoned canal, he attempted to complete it in the hope of changing the
course of the river, or at least of diverting some of the water from the
overflowed land, but the effort was a stupendous failure almost from
the start. Then he ordered the levees of the Mississippi protecting two
great lakes to be cut, with the idea of flooding the adjacent streams
and providing a waterway for his ships. This gigantic enterprise was
actually put into operation, the dams were removed, and gun-boats were
forced on the swollen watercourses far into the interior until some of
them became hopelessly tangled in the submerged forests and their crews,
attacked by the Confederate sharpshooters, were glad to make their
escape. Week after week and month after month this exhausting work
continued, but, at the end of it all, Vicksburg was no nearer capture
than before. Indeed, the only result of the campaign was the loss of
thousands of men who died of malaria, yellow fever, smallpox, and all
the diseases which swamp lands breed. For this, of course, Grant was
severely criticized and the denunciations at last became so bitter that
an order removing him from the command was entrusted to an official who
was directed to deliver it, if, on investigation, the facts seemed to
warrant it.
But the visiting official, after arriving at the front, soon learned
that the army had complete confidence in its commander and that it would
be a mistake to interfere with him. Indeed, by this time "the silent
General," who had neither answered the numerous complaints against him
nor paid the least attention to the storm of public indignation raging
beyond his camp, had abandoned his efforts to reach Vicksburg from the
front and was busily engaged in swinging his army behind it by a long
overland route in the face of appalling difficulties, but with a grim
resolution which forced all obstructions from his path. Meanwhile, the
gun-boats under Admiral Porter were ordered to attempt to run the
land batteries, and April 16, 1863, was selected as the date for their
perilous mission. Each vessel had been carefully protected by cotton
bales, and the crews stood ready with great wads of cotton to stop
leaks, while all lights were extinguished except one in the stern of
each ship to guide the one that followed.
It was a black night when the Admiral started down the river in his
flagship, and for a while it was hoped that the fleet would slip by
the batteries under cover of darkness. The leading vessels did, indeed,
escape the lookouts of the first forts, but before long a warning rocket
shot into the sky and the river was instantly lit by immense bonfires
which had been prepared for just this emergency, and by the glare of
their flames the gunners poured shot and shell at the black hulls as
they sped swiftly by. Shot after shot found its mark, but still the
fleet continued on its course. Then, after the bonfires died down,
houses were set on fire to enable the artillerists to see their targets,
but before daylight the whole fleet had run the gauntlet and lay almost
uninjured below Vicksburg, ready to coöperate with Grant's advancing
army.
By this time the Confederates must have realized that they were facing
defeat. Nevertheless, for fully a month they stubbornly contested every
foot of ground. But Grant, approaching the rear by his long, roundabout
marches, handled his veteran troops with rare good judgment, moving
swiftly and allowing his adversaries no rest, so that by the 17th of
May, 1863, General Pemberton, commanding the defenses of Vicksburg, was
forced to take refuge in the town. Grant immediately swung his army into
position, blocking every avenue of escape and began a close siege. The
prize for which he had been struggling for more than half a year was now
fairly within his grasp, but there was still a chance that it might slip
through his fingers, for close on his heels came General Joseph Johnston
with a powerful army intent upon rescuing General Pemberton and his
gallant garrison.
If Johnston could come to Pemberton's relief or if Pemberton could break
through and unite with Johnston, they could together save Vicksburg. But
Grant had resolved that they should not join forces, and to the problem
confronting him he devoted himself body and mind. Constantly in the
saddle, watching every detail of the work as the attacking army slowly
dug its way toward the city and personally posting the troops holding
Johnston at bay, his quiet, determined face and mud-splashed uniform
became familiar sights to the soldiers, and his appearance on the lines
was invariably greeted with inspiring cheers. By July, the trenches of
the besieged and the besiegers were so close together that the opposing
pickets could take to each other, and the gun-boats threw shells night
and day into the town. Still Pemberton would not surrender and many of
the inhabitants of Vicksburg were forced to leave their houses and dig
caves in the cliffs upon which the city was built to protect themselves
and their families from the iron hail.
It was only when food of every kind had been practically exhausted and
his garrison was threatened with starvation that Pemberton yielded. On
July 3, 1863, however, he realized that the end had come and raised
the white flag. Nearly twenty-four hours passed before the terms of
surrender were agreed upon, but Grant, who had served in the same
division with Pemberton in the Mexican War, was not inclined to exact
humiliating conditions upon his old acquaintance whose men had made
such a long and gallant fight. He, accordingly, offered to free all the
prisoners upon their signing a written promise not to take arms again
unless properly exchanged, and to allow all the officers to retain their
side arms and horses. These generous terms were finally accepted, and on
July 4, 1863, the Confederate army, numbering about 30,000, marched out
in the presence of their opponents and stacked their arms, receiving the
tribute of absolute silence from the 75,000 men who watched them from
the Union ranks.
Four months before this event, Halleck, the Commander-in-Chief, had
advised Grant and other officers of his rank that there was a major
generalship in the Regular Army for the man who should first win a
decisive victory in the field. The captor of Vicksburg had certainly
earned this promotion, for with its fall the Mississippi River was
controlled by the Union and, in the words of Lincoln, "The Father of
Waters again ran unvexed to the sea."