Chapter 4: The noose tightens

Grant’s army arrived outside Mobile, and with them the remainder of the cavalry. Grant clearly thought of the Army of the Savannah as an ancillary force which saved him from using some of the troops he’d brought with him from performing some necessary -- if subsidiary -- tasks.

The force, Butler’s army added to Grant’s larger one, now encircled Mobile on the land side. The fleet in Mobile Bay had the sea side covered.

Grant had become fond of Warren. The man had arrived at his headquarters with nearly 2,000 men and horses ready to do any task assigned. He had presented the army a series of guarded bridges on streams Grant had expected to cross on pontoon bridges.

Grant was used to people asking him for things, not offering him things. Then, too, Warren spoke well of his troops. Grant was not entirely convinced that colored troops could fight as well as white ones, but he was totally convinced that an officer who bad-mouthed his troops was rotten to the core.

When Warren did ask him for something, it was something he could give.

“The Army of the Savannah has, I think, ten cannon now,” Sam said. “We marched out of the city of Savannah with none. General Sherman did not plan for the garrison to move beyond the walls, clearly. The city has many large guns to protect it. We could have blown Augusta off the map with them, but we would still be dragging them there if we’d tried.”

“Ten guns are not much for a siege.”

“Yes, General. General Butler asked for some, but artillery batteries are provided guns by the localities where they are recruited. Washington was willing to give us uniforms and small arms. They were not ready to give us artillery pieces. Still less were they willing to assign some battery of snobs to a colored division.”

“You know,” Grant said, “I had the same problem after Vicksburg. I had lost artillerymen -- guns too, but hunks of iron are more resistant to shrapnel than is flesh. We captured a good many guns at Vicksburg. I asked the War Department to send me artillerymen for the guns. They said, like you did, that they had artillery batteries whose sponsors had paid for the guns. Well, I had enough artillerymen to set up a school. They taught enlisted freedmen to be artillerymen. We had captured guns, and between the two we got a good many colored batteries. I can send for more of them and attach them to your army.”

He was not only good as his word, he sent a colored artillery regiment that had been traveling with his army across the river the next day.

They had the city of Mobile surrounded; they had an overwhelming force; they had superiority in artillery and a reliable source of ammunition. They had, however, to pause.

It was election time in the USA. Nineteen states allowed soldiers to vote in the field. Grant argued that citizen-soldiers were still citizens; he was a strong proponent of the system.

Ironically, Illinois was not one of those states. Grant (and Warren) could not vote.

The enlisted men of The Army of the Savannah, colored Georgians, could not vote. More than half their officers could. Campaigning was hot and heavy. In Grant’s army, most of the regiments came from the same state; either none could vote or all over 21 could. There were, however, several colored units in the same situation as Butler’s.

Warren’s troops, if only an audience, were an interested audience. Republican canvassers were eager to tell them that former slaves were voting in Virginia, and that they would vote in the election in two years if the Republicans won.

Jenkins was amazed. He could not decide whether he was impressed or aghast. He wrote:

| Reginald Jenkins
| The Times
|
| With the Union Army of the Savannah.
|
| The United States national government has two “armies”
| and a fleet surrounding Mobile. This may be the largest
| force in one place during this war, and it is certainly
| one of the larger in the entire history of warfare.
|
| So, what is this aggregation of fighting strength doing?
|
| They are conducting an election.
|
| Moreover, the election may be about whether to continue
| the war. The Republicans say that it is; the Democrats
| are not quite certain. |
| Americans do not seem to have independent members, but they
| have had a plethora of parties. The president, who combines
| the offices of Head of State -- think Queen -- and Head of
| Government -- think PM -- is elected every 4 years. In 1852,
| the 2 main parties were Democrats and Whigs. (To confuse
| things further, the Whigs were the more conservative party.)
| In 1860, the 4 main parties were the Democrats, the Southern
| Democrats, the Constitutional Union Party, and the Republicans.
| The Republicans won.
|
| For the war years, the Democratic Party in the Union has been
| divided between the War Democrats, who believe in fighting
| the war until the Confederacy surrenders and the Union is
| restored, and the Peace Democrats who look for some sort of
| peace with the Confederacy. Some of those profess to believe
| that restoration of slavery and special rules to prevent any
| future challenge to the peculiar institution would be enough
| to bring the South back into the Union. My sources among the
| Confederate prisoners do not think that that is likely.
|
| The present Democratic candidate is George B. McClellan. He is
| a past commander of the most important Union Army -- the victor
| of Antietam. The Democratic Convention passed a Peace-Democrat
| platform and nominated him. He responded with a War-Democrat
| acceptance letter.
|
| The other main party in contention is the Union Party. Its
| candidate is the current president, Hannibal Hamlin. He stood
| for vice president on the Republican ticket 4 years ago, was
| elected, and succeeded President Lincoln on his assassination.
|
| The Democratic Party claims to unite Peace Democrats and
| the War Democrats. The Union Party claims to unite the War
| Democrats with the Republicans.

Jenkins sent the dispatch off on the ship leaving for Washington. There, it would be mailed across the sea to London.

He wandered down to Butler’s headquarters where the general invited him to dine. The general set a good table, and Jenkins hoped to get a quotation for his next dispatch.

“I do not understand American politics,” he said.

“That is because you think that there is an American politics. Oh, so there is in the sense that there is a European politics: the French do this, the Germans do that, and the Spanish do the other thing. But not in the sense that there is an English politics.”

“What is this between Mr. Hamlin and General McClellan, then? Is it not national?”

“It has national results, but it is a conglomeration of state contests.”

The conversation wandered. Jenkins asked what the plans were after Mobile was reduced. Butler declined to answer.

Grant’s staff and the War Department in Washington claimed their plans were secret; everybody else said that the army would turn on Montgomery. A month previously, Alabama had been almost untouched, a stark contrast with the other Confederate states except Texas.

“It would be a major port if the city and the bay were in the same hands,” Jenkins observed. “You have commanded the garrisons of the others. Do you expect to command the garrison of Mobile?”

“Naming that person would be General Grant’s right,” Butler said. “I haven’t discussed that with him.”

“It would be commanding a major port.”

“So it would. So were Savannah and New Orleans. I think the Army of the Savannah is too large for that task. Besides it would cause conflict with the occupied populace to have their streets patrolled almost exclusively by colored troops.”

Jenkins changed the subject: “Could General Johnston disengage and get to Montgomery?”

“General Johnston could certainly get to Montgomery, if not by train. Or were you asking if he could bring his army with him?”

“His army certainly. What use would he be alone? For that matter, why not by train?”

“Do you think the march from Atlanta to Savannah by the Army of the Mississippi was merely a way to get to Savannah?” Butler asked.

“Well, I have spoken with some of your officers, and they seem prouder of the march than of the capture of the city.”

“Sherman left a wide swath with no railroad tracks. So did we, if not so wide. Not only does the South not have the industry to restore those sections, they do not have the railroad equipment to handle the areas around that swath. General Johnston could move on horseback from one railroad still in use to another. I don’t think there are many places along the route from South Carolina to Montgomery which has a railroad which could carry all his men, let alone a supply train.”

“Essentially,” Butler continued. “The march divided Virginia and the Carolinas from the rest of the Confederacy. Virginia was nearly pacified by that time, but the Carolinas were only occupied in a few places on the coast.”

“And now the coast is Sherman’s.”

“The entire coast is Sherman’s. Northwest South Carolina is Meade’s, and Johnston must fear meeting both of them. He has, however, the only significant Confederate field force east of Alabama. Move too many troops to Montgomery, and the Confederacy risks the Union sweeping up all the small garrisons remaining in the east. Mobile is the most significant force between New Orleans and Pensacola by far. The forces here could secure the Gulf Coast, and then move on. Instead of my army pacifying Georgia as I had intended, we could cover both South Georgia and Northern Florida. Would Her Majesty’s government consider recognizing ‘The Confederate States of Central Alabama’?”

“That does not sound like a world power,” Jenkins conceded. “Is that what you claim that this incredibly large force will do, then? It will merely consolidate Union hold on the Gulf Coast? It isn’t going to use the port closest to the capital of the Confederacy to take Montgomery?”

“Oh, we could do that, of course. We could do all sorts of things. And, sooner or later, the Union must do all of them. We merely want Jeff Davis to worry about what we will do first. The Army of the Atlantic, which is what General Sherman is calling his force now that it has left the Tennessee long behind, is somewhat depleted by marching so far, fighting so often, and leaving garrisons in so many cities. It could probably defeat Johnston’s force by itself. The Army of the Potomac has won each of a long series of engagements with it. Those two forces, combined, could crush it. So far, Johnston has managed to avoid being crushed. Not being crushed is not quite a laurel wreath for principal Confederate force of the east.”

While Captain Jenkins and General Butler were gossiping about General Johnston, two other men with more immediate concern had already decided about him.

Meade had written to the War Department:

As general in charge of the forces
In the east, I order that the garrisons
of New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore,
and Washington be reduced by half.

The units so freed are to be transferred
by sea to The Army of the Atlantic.

General Sherman may use them in his
mobile force or use them to replace
garrisons he has placed in disloyal
cities.

Meade was very clear that this would bring resistance. The only reduction that had been made in the Washington garrison since Washington was thought threatened by The Army of Northern Virginia was the assignment of Andrews’s division to dispute the crossing of the Potomac.

He didn’t get all he asked for. The troops in New York were in case of another riot, not protecting against a Confederate raid. Sherman did get nearly half the troops from Washington, and that was several divisions. He and Sherman thought that would be enough for Sherman to move to trap Johnston when the various shifts had been made. Sherman definitely wanted his old troops rather than men who had grown soft in garrison duty.

At nearly the same time, Jefferson Davis wired Johnston to break off and to proceed to Montgomery.

Breaking off was easier said than done. Sheridan and his cavalry were back with the Army of the Potomac, and they outnumbered as well as outgunned the Confederate cavalry. These had to shield the retreating infantry as a rear guard, act as a vanguard and pathfinders, and keep a shield to their east in case the Army of the Atlantic showed up unexpectedly as Sherman’s troops often did.

Once he noticed that his advance was no longer opposed, Meade sent the news to Sherman. The news had to travel back to North Carolina, then eastward, and then back south. Since it took that path via telegraph, this took mere minutes. Sherman, in turn, traveled by a ship the Navy had put at his disposal to Savannah.

He conferred with Brigadier General Wilcox, whom Butler had left in charge of the training of colored troops. (Another was in charge of the garrison.) Wilcox had been one of Sherman’s colonels, although he hardly knew him. Wilcox figured he could put about 9,000 troops on the march the next day. Others were deployed all over the state gathering rice and freedmen.

Meade’s intelligence reported that Johnston commanded 10,000 now or a little more. Still, those were veterans with recent combat experience. Wilcox’s enlisted men had never seen combat; many of them had never seen a route march. The officers had seen combat, but not as officers.

Butler had left a garrison at Augusta. Among the duties were guarding that bridge. Wilcox would send 400 infantry to reinforce that garrison. Johnston was northeast of Augusta, and there was one bridge across the Savannah River upstream of Augusta and out of reach of Meade. Sherman thought Johnston would use that one.

Somewhere, Johnston would have to cross the wide track that Sherman’s troops had made on the road to Savannah the previous year. Sherman and Wilcox agreed that Sherman’s troops would march north of the river until they reached Augusta. They would cross there and would try to reach Johnston’s troops north of the path they had cut. When they crossed Johnston’s trail if he was ahead of them, they would follow him.

Of course, if they met the Confederates north of the river, they would engage them.

Some of the railroads directly into Savannah had been repaired. Wilcox’s troops would take one and then march across the path that Butler’s troops had cut earlier in the year. They would take a defensive position south of the path that Sherman’s bummers had cut. They would forage liberally and especially concentrate on wagons and teams. They would leave as little transport as possible for Johnston’s army to use.

They would resist Johnston’s army if attacked; they would pursue and harass that army if it got west of them. Until Sherman or Meade came up, they would avoid any straight-up combat unless they were dug in.

Wilcox had only one regiment of cavalry, but that numbered 1100 men. They knew that Johnston had several brigades; how many men out of those brigades survived, they did not know.

Wilcox got into position. He sent out infantry foragers to the south and west and most of his cavalry as scouts to the north and west. The rest of the infantry dug in. Then he waited.

Since Meade had taken command, the Army of the Potomac had won many victories. None of the others were as notable as Gettysburg, but few victories in any war are as notable as Gettysburg. They were redoubtable fighters, but it could not be claimed that they moved quickly.

Sheridan’s cavalry kept in touch with Wheeler’s, but Johnston was able to get his entire army across the Savannah River before the first Union infantry drew into sight. Then they saw the bridge on fire. Meade’s engineers were able to make repair, but they were a day and a half behind the Confederates before they were across and ready to march.

Johnston, knowing that speed was his best defense against Meade and that his troops had to cross a region where food would be sparse, divided his forces into three columns. He assigned half the cavalry to the left – eastern – column since this was where he feared that Sherman might appear. He aimed, as far as possible in this mountainous territory, at right angles to Sherman’s march of more than a year before.

The plants had grown again, but the path was still detectable. Some of those cavalry were half way across when they saw some riders with blue uniforms and black faces. They rode toward them and fired upon them. The Union troopers raced away.

The Confederates rode on telling themselves that it took more than a uniform and a saber to make a soldier out of a “scaredy nigger.” They didn’t consider that the highest-priority order for those cavalry was to bring reports of enemy contact. Those fleeing troopers reached their captain and were sent back to tell the general about what they had seen.

There was a world of difference between cavalry contact and infantry contact, though. The captain sent a rider to the next company. An hour later, two companies, well spread out, rode in the direction in which the scouts had made contact.

A half dozen Confederate riderss saw some of them and fired on them. The confederates were carrying breech-loading rifles. These required concentration and a steady horse to reload after the single shot. The Union riders, carrying repeating carbines, rode them down and shot them. Then they reloaded and rode further. They reached more cavalry, but not infantry. They exchanged shots and gave better than they took until the numbers seemed too much. The blue-coats rode off and sought their colonel to tell him of their results.

Most of the regiment spread out and rode in the direction of their encounter. This time, they outnumbered as well as outshot the confederates. These fell back miles until they came to an infantry column. With a fair number of the Confederate riders dead, the Union regiment withdrew. They stopped well out of rifle range, and the colonel sent back his report to General Wilcox. What he didn’t report, because he didn’t know, was that this was but one of three columns.

The Union cavalry kept in close enough contact that the Confederate cavalry was boxed in. The commander of the first Confederate infantry brigade sent reports to his superior, who sent reports to Johnston, that there were Union forces – at least cavalry – on their front. Sherman was not known to have colored cavalrymen in his force. Meade did, and if these troops were from Meade, they were not as far ahead of him as they had thought.

In any case, this was sparse country for foraging, and hostile cavalry made foraging a quite risky enterprise. The lead brigade settled down early for a hungry camp that night. The following brigades marched longer and the entire column camped close together.

The Union cavalry camped far away and with many pickets assigned.

The Confederate troops moved out with a loose half circle of Union cavalry around them. They had enough that the Confederate cavalry stayed within easy rifle range of their infantry.

Late in the morning, the Union forces trailing the Confederates spotted another party of Union cavalry behind them. The captain dispatched a lieutenant to meet them.

“Lieutenant Morris Blake, Fourteenth Georgia Colored Cavalry.”

“Trooper James Kelly, sir, Seventh Iowa Cavalry. If you’ve got 14 regiments, you should be able to wipe out those rebs.”

“Yeah, but we’ve only got 1 regiment here. Who you with?”

“Army of the Potomac. You need to talk with the major.”

“Yeah, and he needs to talk with my colonel.”

When the two units connected, it was decided that Sheridan’s boys would stay far enough behind so that the Confederates wouldn’t know that they’d been reached. The Georgians could keep them informed of any important changes. A captain of the Iowa Cavalry would be guided by two Georgians to meet Wilcox. At the same time, a captain of the Georgia Colored Cavalry would be taken to meet Sheridan.

Wilcox learned for the first time that there were 3 columns. “And how many troops in the eastern column?” he asked.

“Maybe 3,000 horse and foot. Maybe 3,000 infantry and up to 600 cavalry. I don’t know precisely, sir, but there ain’t twice that, and there are more than half that. Your troops ought to be able to give you better guesses. I rode around the column from a distance.”

“Well, we will do our best to deal with the eastern column. If General Meade hasn’t been able to wipe the entire army out in months, I am not going to try to do it in a week.”

“I don’t think the army expects you to, sir. I didn’t know you were here, and I don’t know if General Sheridan did.”

General Sheridan had not known, but he had hoped. With the news that there was a Union division more-or-less astride the probable route of the left-hand column, he wrote Meade his recommendation that Meade’s infantry concentrate on pursuit of the right-hand column.

“When you have taken care of them,” he wrote, “you might still be west of the other columns.” When the westernmost column had given Meade the slip, he thought, he well might have a chance at the other columns.

When Sheridan heard “division,” he thought of the divisions of the Army of the Potomac, or the even-more pared down divisions in Johnston’s corps. He didn’t imagine that Wilcox had continued Butler’s program of filling the slots emptied by sickness with new recruits. That meant that Wilcox had nearer 9,000 than 8,000 infantry and 1100 cavalry.

Meanwhile, that left-hand column had come to a river. It wasn’t very deep, but the wagons had trouble fording it. With Union cavalry haunting them, the division commander kept the infantry drawn up on either bank until the wagons were across.

Meanwhile, Sherman’s cavalry saw no rebels in front of his troops. He thought his infantry could do what no other soldiers in the war could do. “Fifteen miles a day, rain or shine,” he told his regimental commanders. “Breakfast at dawn, eight miles before dinner, seven miles between dinner and supper. Then, you do it the next day.” He kept two cavalry brigades to guard his flanks and sent two ahead to find the enemy and harass them.

The two Union cavalry units around the left-hand column each outnumbered the Confederate cavalry facing them. The commanders decided on a strategy to take advantage of this.

The brigade from the Army of the Potomac took some rest. When nightfall came and the Confederates made camp, they rode in close and fired on them from the east. The camp stood to arms; the Yankees retreated; the rebel cavalry chased them. Far out of reach of Confederate rifles, the Union forces turned. The fire fight was confusing and most of the shots from both sides went wild in the dimness, but the blue-coats were firing repeating carbines. They fired many times as many bullets and scored almost as many times as many hits. After midnight, the Union forces made another attack from the north. The results were mostly the same.

When the tired Confederate infantry got moving in the morning, they came upon a trench dug across their front not a mile after they had started marching. The troops were formed up, and they delivered a proper bayonet charge against carbine fire. They drove the colored Yankees out of the trench. They reformed in marching order, and pressed on. A mile later, they came upon another trench. They dealt with this trench and the next one in similar fashion. When they halted for dinner at noon, the infantry had won three skirmishes. They had also advanced little more than three miles.