The right man to conduct the Shenandoah campaign was already in the Army
of the Potomac, but it was not until about a week after the failure of
the Petersburg mine that circumstances enabled Grant to place General
Philip Sheridan in charge of that important task.
Sheridan, like Sherman, had served with Grant in the West and had
developed into a brilliant cavalry leader. Indeed, he was the only man
in the Northern armies whose record could be compared with that of Jeb
Stuart and many other great cavalry commanders in the South. But Grant
felt that Sheridan could handle an entire army as well as he had handled
the cavalry alone and he soon showed himself fully worthy of this
confidence, for from the moment he took over the command of the Union
forces in the Shenandoah Valley, the Confederates were compelled to
fight for it as they had never fought before.
Up to this time, the war had been conducted with comparatively little
destruction of private property on either side. But the moment had
now arrived for harsher measures, for Sherman had occupied Atlanta on
September 2, 1864, and was preparing to march to the sea coast and cut
the Confederacy in two. If Grant's plan of depriving Lee of the fertile
valley to the north was to be put in operation, there was no time
to lose. Sheridan, accordingly, at once proceeded to attack the
Confederates with the utmost vigor, defeating them in two engagements
at Winchester and Fisher's Hill, and following up this success by laying
waste the fields and ruthlessly destroying all the stores of grain and
provisions which might prove useful to Lee's army. For a month or more
he continued to sweep through the country practically unchecked. But
on October 19.1864, during his absence, his army was surprised and
furiously attacked by General Early's men at Cedar Creek, and before
long they had the Union troops in a perilous position which threatened
to end in their destruction and the recapture of the entire valley.
Sheridan was at Winchester on his way to the front from Washington when
the news of this impending disaster reached him and, mounting his horse,
he dashed straight across country for the scene of action. He was then,
however, fully twenty miles from the field and there seemed but little
chance of his reaching it any time to be of any service. Nevertheless,
he spurred forward at a breakneck pace and his splendid horse,
responding gamely, fairly flew over the ground, racing along mile after
mile at killing speed in a lather of foam and sweat, until the
battle field was reached just as the Union troops came reeling back,
panic-stricken, under cover of a thin line of troops who had at last
succeeded in making a stand.
Instantly, the General was among the fugitives ordering them to turn and
follow him and inspired by his presence, they wheeled as he dashed down
their broken lines and, madly cheering, hurled themselves upon their
pursuers. Completely surprised by this unexpected recovery, the
Confederates faltered and the Union troops, gathering force as they
charged, rolled them back with irresistible fury and finally swept them
completely from the field. Indeed, Early's force was so badly shattered
and scattered by this overwhelming defeat that it virtually abandoned
the Valley and Sheridan continued his work of destruction almost
unopposed, until the whole region was so barren that, as he reported, a
crow flying across it would have to carry his own provisions or starve
to death.
Meanwhile, Sherman had begun to march from Atlanta to Savannah, Georgia,
where he intended to get in touch with the navy guarding the coast and
then sweep northward to Grant. Behind him lay the Confederate army,
formerly commanded by General Joseph Johnston but now led by General
Hood, a daring officer who was expected to retrieve Johnston's failure
by some brilliant feat of arms. Whether he would attempt this by
following Sherman and attacking him at the first favorable moment
or take advantage of his departure to turn north and play havoc with
Tennessee and the region thus exposed to attack, was uncertain. To meet
either of these moves Sherman sent a substantial part of his army to
General Thomas at Nashville, Tennessee, and swung off with the rest of
his troops toward the sea. Hood instantly advanced against Thomas,
and Grant at Petersburg, closely watching the movement saw a
great opportunity to dispose of one of the Confederate armies. He,
accordingly, ordered Thomas to attack with his whole strength as soon as
Hood reached Nashville, but although the Confederates reached that
point considerably weakened by a partial defeat inflicted on them by
a retreating Union column, Thomas delayed his assault. Days of anxious
waiting followed and then Grant hurried General Logan, one of his most
trusted officers, to the scene of action with orders to take over the
command, unless Thomas immediately obeyed his instructions. In the
meantime, however, Thomas, slow but sure, had completed his preparations
and, hurling himself upon Hood with a vastly superior force, pursued his
retreating columns (Dec. 16, 1864) until they were split into fragments,
never again to be reunited as a fighting force.
It was not until this practical annihilation of Hood that the North
began to realize how far reaching and complete Grant's plans were.
But that event and the Shenandoah campaign made it clear that he
had determined that no army worthy of the name should be left to
the Confederacy when he finally closed in upon Lee, so that with his
destruction or surrender there should be no excuse for prolonging the
war. It was in furtherance of this plan that Sherman left ruin and
desolation behind him as he blazed his way up from the South. The
inhabitants of the region through which he was marching had, up to this
time, been living in perfect security and Sherman intended to make war
so hideous that they would have no desire to prolong the contest. He,
accordingly, tore up the railroads, heating the rails and then twisting
them about trees so that they could never be used again, burned public
buildings and private dwellings, allowed his army to live on whatever
food they could find in the houses, stores or barns, and generally made
it a terror to all who lay in the broad path he was sweeping towards
Petersburg.
Grant then had Lee fairly caught. His only possible chances of
prolonging the contest lay in taking refuge in the mountains or joining
his forces with the remnants of Hood's army which had been gathered
together and again entrusted with other troops to the command of General
Joseph Johnston. Had it been possible to do this, nothing practical
would have been achieved, for he had less than 30,000 effective men and
Johnston's whole force did not amount to much more than 30,000, while
Grant, Sherman and Sheridan together had a quarter of a million men
under arms. From a military standpoint Lee knew that the situation was
hopeless, but until the authorities who had placed him in the field gave
up the cause he felt in duty bound to continue the fight to the bitter
end. Had the Union army been his only opponent, it is possible that
he might have succeeded in escaping the rings of steel which Grant was
daily riveting around him. But he had to fight hunger, and from the day
that Sheridan mastered the Shenandoah Valley and Sherman cut off all
supplies from the South starvation stared him in the face.
Meanwhile, his troops, though almost reduced to skeletons and clothed
in rags, confidently believed that in spite of everything he would find
some way of leading them out of Grant's clutches and, inspired by this
implicit faith, they hurled themselves again and again upon the masses
of troops which were steadily closing around them. But though they
frequently checked the advancing columns and sometimes even threw them
back, inflicting heavy losses and taking many prisoners, the blue lines
soon crept forward again, closing up gap after gap with a resistless
tide of men. At last the road to the west leading toward the mountains
beyond Lynchburg alone remained open. But to avail himself of this
Lee knew that he would have to abandon Petersburg and Richmond and he
hesitated to take this step; while Grant, seeing the opening and fearing
that his opponent would take advantage of it, strained every nerve to
get his troops into a position where they could block the road.
Such was the condition of affairs at the end of March, 1865, but neither
the starving soldiers in the Confederate trenches nor the people of
Richmond or Petersburg imagined that the end was desperately near. While
"Marse Robert," as Lee's men affectionately called him, was in command
they felt that no real danger could come nigh them, and their idol was
outwardly as calm as in the hour of his greatest triumph.