CHAPTER XXVII.
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 manœuvre 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 Spott sylvania 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.