Authors: R.E. Thomas
“Then what do you propose instead?” Davis asked.
“To shift the corps of Hood and Stewart by rail to Selma, join with Polk, and invade Middle Tennessee directly. Once there, to destroy McPherson’s Corps and get astride Sherman’s supply lines into Chattanooga. To pry Thomas and perhaps Schofield out of East Tennessee, defeat them as well, and affect the liberation of Middle and East Tennessee.”
Jackson’s reply was so matter-of-fact, Davis was not sure he had heard it correctly. “I beg your pardon? How is removing more than half your army from before Atlanta more practicable than a direct invasion of East Tennessee?”
Assuming the patient, methodical tone he used many times in the classroom at VMI, Jackson said “The movement will rely on the railroad, at least as far as Selma. Based on the experience garnered from dispatching Cheatham’s Division to Demopolis a month ago, my staff has drawn up a plan for shipping the two corps, plus the artillery, wagons and part of the necessary supplies. We can complete the move to Selma in three weeks.”
Davis caught on. “You have known you wanted to do this for a month now!”
Jackson nodded. “Yessir. I wanted to study the matter thoroughly before submitting it to you.”
“That is all very well and good, but I still cannot see how this is any better. If your intention is to attack McPherson, won’t he retreat back on Thomas? And if surprise is so important, just how do you intend to keep the movement of two army corps a secret?
“Confusion and misdirection, Mr. President. And for that, I require your assistance.”
Davis said cautiously “Go on.”
“I forwarded to you a plan from General Polk, requesting that I reinforce him with one army corps for a raid on Middle Tennessee. I disapproved it.”
Davis nodded. “Yes.” He had also received the plan separately from General Polk, but there was no need for Jackson to know of that. Davis did not approve of Polk’s campaign proposal either, and he knew Jackson was touchy on the matter of all communications with the War Department passing through his headquarters.
“I want you to give your blessing to Polk’s plan, and more to the point, I want you to publicly announce your approval of it as soon as possible, and ensure the details of the plan appear in the Atlanta and Richmond papers.”
“The enemy will receive all manner of reports from their spies,” Jackson said, practically spitting on the last word. While Jackson had much use for spies himself, he detested any Southern man who spied for the enemy as the vilest, most cowardly form of traitor. “I will do everything in my power to obfuscate those reports, for I want the only clear reports reaching Yankee ears to be the ones coming from the halls of the Capitol. When the enemy hears from Georgia that I have sent one division, two divisions, four divisions or my entire army to Polk, I want them reading about Polk’s plan in the papers and from their spies.”
Davis saw the virtues of it, because he could imagine how such a scheme might work on his own people. If Lincoln, Grant, Halleck, Sherman and the rest were expecting Jackson to send troops to Polk, and for Polk to mount a raid, they might discount those reports from Georgia that conflicted with that expectation. He knew from his own experience that intelligence reports rarely agreed on anything when it came to enemy intentions or troop numbers, and deducing what the enemy was up to and in what strength was all a matter of educated guesswork. As he thought it over, he wondered if such a bit of legerdemain might not fool him as well.
“So when you march from Selma, they will think you are Polk, and have only two army corps instead of three. And that is what will keep McPherson from falling back on Thomas?”
“If Providence wills it, sir. I expect they will send McPherson to intercept the raid, rather than allow it to advance into Middle Tennessee.”
“And when do you propose to start?”
Jackson smiled. “As soon as you order me to send an army corps to Polk.”
March 24
Early morning
Headquarters, Army of Tennessee
Dalton, Georgia
Jackson set the papers down on his desk, and turned to face his officers. “Satisfactory, Sandie. Harman. Satisfactory. Three weeks to move Hood and Stewart to Selma. Put it into action. At once.”
Harman and Sandie grinned. “Satisfactory” was high praise in Jackson’s army. The two men were pale and bleary-eyed, having worked through the night to put the finishing touches on their plan, but excited nonetheless.
Rising from his seat slowly, Harman half-stretched his tired body as he came to attention. Shorn of sleep as he was, his eyes were clear. The first stage of the plan called for shipping the supplies, the wagons and the pontoon train. That was his department. He saluted with a “Yessir” and left.
Old Jack never shared his plans. He told you what to do, but never why. Yet for this campaign, Jackson had to share at least some of his intentions with his chief of staff and his quartermaster, because moving the men, mules, horses, guns, wagons, ambulances and supplies of two army corps was not something that could be improvised, and it was too complex for him to direct alone.
Now Sandie and Harman were the only men in the army who knew what their chief intended. The prospect of invading Tennessee was exciting as it was, but carrying and keeping such a secret was more so, lending them renewed vigor.
In hindsight, Sandie could see that Jackson had intended this change of base for many weeks, perhaps all along. In the first week after taking command, Jackson told him to put some railroad men onto the staff, who were then sent out to inspect every locomotive, every station, and nearly every rail car and section of track. Scouts had been dispatched investigate crossing points for the Tennessee River. Such work was typical under Jackson, who liked to plan for every contingency, so the staff never wondered about it, and outside Jackson’s staff hardly anyone noticed.
Sandie was thankful he had brought with him the records from Richmond covering Braxton Bragg’s 1862 change of base from Mississippi to Chattanooga. In Sandie’s opinion, that movement was brilliantly conceived and executed, and it gave him a working model for his own plan.
“Now, sir, I have the telegraphy. General Polk has sent you his dispositions, as you requested.” Polk was always prompt when he was getting what he wanted, Sandie smirked to himself.
Jackson took the papers from Sandie, and read through them. For his “raid,” Polk intended to concentrate the infantry divisions of Samuel French and W.W. Loring.
“Loring” Jackson grumbled aloud. Man would bear watching, he thought.
Continuing, Jackson saw that Polk also meant to bring the cavalry divisions of Red Jackson and Nathan Bedford Forrest. Jackson had ordered Polk to supply his own cavalry from the outsized force of horsemen in his department, and Polk had complied. That was important, as it meant Jackson had no need to bring any of Wheeler’s cavalry from Georgia with him, lightening his transportation burden. Finally, S.D. Lee would command the balance of the cavalry in Polk’s department, shielding western Mississippi.
“Hurm. Forrest.” There was that name again. In the East, Forrest had the reputation of being merely a talented cavalry raider, but the reports Jackson had read since his appointment as Army of Tennessee commander pointed to a man who was something more than that. There was no time to finish reviewing the mountain of paperwork, however, and there was a better way to get to the bottom of who the man was.
“Sandie, send over to General Wheeler. He is to report to me at his earliest convenience, but sometime before midday. And tell him I want any brigadier or colonel who has served under General Forrest sent to me later this afternoon.”
April 2
Early afternoon
Headquarters, Military Division of the Mississippi, USA
Nashville, Tennessee
Major Audenried found Sherman in high feather that morning, chewing on stewed chicken and going about his paperwork.
Sherman swallowed and said “Ah! Joseph. Come on in. Is that the latest from the telegraph office? Set it down here.”
Audenried smiled an easy, pleasant smile. “Yessir. May I ask what has you in such a fair mood?”
Sherman wiped the grease from his fingers with a napkin, took up a piece of paper, shook it at Audenried, and then motioned for him to sit down. “This, my dear fellow, is my authorization from Secretary Stanton to take possession of all the railroads in the department. I’ve already told Colonel Anderson to seize every locomotive and car that comes into Nashville, and put them to work pushing supplies down to Chattanooga.”
“That’s marvelous news, sir.”
Sherman was very nervous about matters of supply, given that his armies were at the end of a railroad line stretching back 300 miles, all the way back to Louisville, Kentucky. Half of that was hostile territory. Everyone knew that once the campaign started, Rebel raiders would play merry hell with that supply line wherever and whenever they could.
Part of Sherman’s answer to this problem was to build up enough ammunition, food, forage, and sundries in Chattanooga to supply 100,000 men and 35,000 animals for 70 days. The difficulty wasn’t collecting all that materiel, as Nashville was already a vast, bustling supply base, surely the largest in the world. Instead, the trouble was moving that materiel down to Chattanooga. With control of the railroads, Sherman could organize things as he saw fit.
“How long do you think it will take to push all the materiel down the line?” Audenried asked.
“30 days, give or take.” Having delivered his news, Sherman returned reading the new reports and munching on his dinner.
Sherman had complete confidence in that figure. Although his quartermasters would need a day or two to sort out the new timetables, he had all the facts and figures memorized, and had already clicked away in his head at the sums. He knew it could be done if his people were efficient, and he had made sure a long time ago that they were quite efficient.
He read through half a dozen pages at a fast clip, absorbing every word faster than most men could merely glance things over. Then Sherman noticed something that made him remember his meeting with Banks the month before.
“Oh, Audenried. Send to General Corse. Smith and his boys ought to be leaving Banks in Louisiana and on his way back to us by now, but Banks is being evasive about it. Tell Corse he is to get down there and move things along.”
“Yessir.” Corse was Sherman’s inspector general and chief troubleshooter.
Grant will send preemptory orders to Banks if need be, Sherman thought, and even halt the entire Red River business if that is what it takes. Still, I’m in Nashville and Grant is in Washington. It always helps to have a man on the spot if you want to get things done.
Sherman took up a new page, and his countenance suddenly darkened. General Thomas in Chattanooga had sent a report from his spies that infantry had departed from Dalton for Atlanta.
That settled it, Sherman thought. The War Department had been sending him reports these last few weeks that Richmond had approved a major raid under Bishop Polk, probably to try and cut his supply lines. Spies and newspapers were all indicating that Jackson would receive reinforcements from the Carolinas, and that Jackson, in turn, would reinforce Polk.
“Well, Major, I suppose we had to expect the Johnnies to make some kind of spoiling attack on us. Now we know. Bishop Polk is coming this way. Reckon he wants to serve me a taste of my own medicine.”
That brought chuckles from Audenried, but the matter was serious enough. Sherman couldn’t let Polk just stroll into Tennessee. The damage even the fumbling Bishop Polk could do with 25,000 infantry at his back would be bad enough, and the newspapers would go mad with exaggeration over the whole business. The only proper use for a newspaper is wiping your backside, Sherman thought, but people still read and believe that trash, God knows why.
He would have to send McPherson. McPherson was posted in northeastern Alabama, the closest to Polk’s Tennessee River starting line. McPherson’s Army of the Tennessee had five infantry divisions, and most of a sixth could be mustered up by pulling his Tennessee River garrisons back in, leaving behind just what handful of men were needed to hold Rebel banditry at bay. Sherman ran the figures in his head, and estimated McPherson would have 28,000 infantry and artillery, all of them Grant’s hardened veterans, the best fighting men in the world.
Was he ready for the job? Sherman thought. He, Grant and many others beside thought of McPherson as the great, rising man of the war. More than once both he and Grant had agreed that if either of them were killed, it would be McPherson who would step into the gap and help finish the job. McPherson had done well at the head of a corps in Vicksburg, but as an army commander Sherman had always intended McPherson to operate under his loose supervision in Georgia.
Sherman looked at Audenried. “Major, you have writing materials? Good. Take this down.”
He began dictating orders for McPherson to concentrate, collect supplies, and be ready to change his base and move to intercept Polk once that situation developed. As he spoke, he realized McPherson would need more cavalry. Kilpatrick was with McPherson, but with only a small force at hand. More than 4,000 horsemen were refitting in Franklin, only 20 miles down the road from Nashville. Some of those troopers must be made ready for action immediately.
He snatched up the draft once Audenried finished writing, reviewed it, made some changes and gave it back. “Take that to the chief of staff. And tell an orderly to have my horse saddled and an escort readied. I depart for Franklin directly.”
April 7
Mid-morning
Headquarters, Army of Tennessee, CSA
Dalton, Georgia
Jackson’s chief aide, James Power Smith, pulled back the flaps of the headquarters tent, and found Jackson busy at his desk. “General?”
Jackson half turned, pen still poised above the page. “Yes, Captain?”
“General Hardee is here to see you. His appointment, sir? He is a tad early.”