The Cave of the Moonbat is cluttered with maps and dispatches tonight, as your resident historiorantologist tries to make sense of the amazing gamut of larger-than-life personalities, epic battles, and social strife that was America in 1863. Tonight, the cities burn with draft resistance, generalship (at its best and worst) is on display, enormous armies duke it out, and governments on both sides play a kind of switcheroo with regard to who's a slave. A parade of would-be leaders fall victim to Lincoln's one-strike-and-you're-out policy, even as Robert E. Lee's confidence grows to the point of being dangerous.
Join me, if you will, around the fire in the middle of the Cave. Let's talk about how personal failings in a commander can bring entire armies to their knees, about how timidity and lack of resolve are the very first things that will be exploited by a determined enemy. Oh, wait...you already know about that...
Cross-posted at Never In Our Names
Cross-posted at Progressive Historians
The Peter Principle
Ambrose Everett Burnside didn't want the job of commanding the Army of the Potomac; he'd already refused it twice when Abe Lincoln - who had just fired George McClellan once and for all - ordered him to the post in early November, 1862. He'd performed well in attacks on the North Carolina coast, but was worried about his relative inexperience; despite being a West Point grad and the inventor of a breech-loading carbine rifle (though he lost the patent to creditors), Burnside had only served garrison duty in Mexico and was removed from the southwestern action entirely in 1849 when he was wounded while in action against the Apache, and resigned his active commission in 1853. Now, 9 years later, the President was ordering him to assume command of the Army of the Potomac and to attack Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia immediately. Burnside felt he had little choice by to obey his commander-in-chief, so he dutifully (and quickly) set out toward the South, with a bickering general staff in tow.
On November 17, his army arrived on the northern bank of the Rappahannock River, opposite the town of Fredricksburg, Virginia, but here the Joementum took over. Halliburton-esque logistics delayed the arrival of pontoon bridges Burnside had requisitioned, and even after they arrived, he tarried in getting them deployed. It wasn't until December 11 that his engineers started assembling the bridges.
Historiorant: As history would have it, Burnside's legacy was to be determined by bridges of one type or another, in the same way that Bush's will be forever linked to rivers. While the latter's mistakes have been visited disastrously upon the banks of the Tigris, Euphrates, and Mississippi, General Burnside's tendency to try to funnel huge numbers of men across narrow bridges with entrenched enemies on the other side contributed mightily to the carnage at Antietam and the subsequent slaughter at Fredricksburg.
It took a lot of doing (and included a two-hour, 8000-round bombardment, a desperate, 400-foot river crossings in improvised pontoon boats, and some fierce urban warfare), but overwhelming numbers finally compelled the Mississippians who had bought Robert E. Lee another day to leave the town. Once in control of Fredericksburg, however, the Union troops that poured in on December 12th did not acquit themselves well. According to a chaplain from Connecticut:
I saw men break down the doors to rooms of fine houses, enter, shatter the looking glasses with the blow of the ax, [and] knock the vases and lamps off the mantelpiece with a careless swing ... A cavalry man sat down at a fine rosewood Piano ... drove his saber through the polished keys, then knocked off the top [and] tore out the strings ...
National Park Service
Beating Your Troops' Heads Against A Stone Wall
Getting control of the rampaging soldiery delayed Burnside's attack until the morning of the 13th, by which time the cream of Confederate generalship (Lee, Longstreet, Stonewall Jackson, etc.) had arrayed their forces in unassailable defensive positions on high ground and behind stone walls. In no less than 15 waves, 3 entire Union divisions threw themselves at the Confederates, and all were hurled back with such ease that Robert E. Lee was inspired to quip:
"It is well that war is so terrible. We should grow too fond of it."
ibid.
The Union took 3000 casualties in a single hour, but Burnside ordered the attacks to continue the next day. Perhaps seeking atonement through glorious death at the head of a charge, Burnside tried to take personal command, but was talked down by his subordinates. When he finally withdrew back across the Rappahannock on the night of December 15th, the Army of the Potomac had suffered 12,600 casualties, with a full two-thirds of them falling before the stone wall. Lee, by contrast, took 5300 casualties, but the enormous boost the victory gave to Confederate morale was enough to get Lee to think about taking the fight to the North again. Burnside would try another stab at Richmond, but it was so Operation Forward Together-successful that it was nicknamed "The Muddy March," and Lincoln fired him later in the spring.
Weird Historical Sidenote: It was in the realm of barbering that Ambrose Burnside made his greatest impression on society, even if he later went on to a successful career in Rhode Island politics (Governor and Senator). In a century notable for outstanding facial hair, Burnside saw his own name turned around to reflect the style in which he wore his - we still use the term "sideburns" today. Here's why:
Next!
"Fightin' Joe" Hooker was Lincoln's next sacrificial lamb trotted to the head of the Army of the Potomac. Another Mexico vet, Hooker had made one of those seemed-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time decisions that young, ambitious officers sometimes make, and had testified against Winfield Scott in an inquiry about the conduct of the war - resulting in a resignation in 1853 and a thorough dissing by Scott in 1861. Still, he was liked by his troops, both because he seemed to care about the common soldier, and because he tended to share the moral code of the most base of them.
This guy would have been at home in the Bush leadership team. He was the sort who blamed subordinates and superiors alike for his failures - wound up resigning his command just a few days before the Battle of Gettysburg in a pissing contest with Army commander George Halleck - and fellow officers described his HQ as a combo bar and brothel. And just like our Dear Leader, Hooker publicly swore off the booze, only to find that in crisis situations, he probably would have performed better with a few bracers in him.
Weird Historical Sidenote: In keeping with the theme of "Civil War Generals whose names are still frequently referenced," it should be noted that Joseph Hooker so enjoyed the company of prostitutes that his name is now forever linked with them. Kinda puts the whole Jeff Gannon thing in perspective - or should we start calling practitioners of his profession "roves" or "mehlmans?"
Hooker's essential Bushiness was displayed most prominently at Chancellorsville, Virginia, beginning on May 1, 1863. He had moved on the South at a most inopportune time for General Lee (whose very capable sidekick James Longstreet was at the head of two divisions that were off gathering supplies in southern Virginia), and in so doing had displayed strategic vision and boldness - Hooker got 90,000 men across the Rappahannock in two main columns 40 miles apart, and successfully linked up his western forces at Chancellorsville Tavern, a crossroads in the middle of thick forests, trackless forests known locally as the Wilderness.
So far, so good - but like the Decider in Baghdad, Hooker's confidence was shaken at the first signs that his enemy was not acting in accordance with his own strategery. First, Lee detailed about 10,000 men under Jubal Early to reoccupy the defensive works in Fredericksburg and hold off the eastern wing, then unexpectedly (from Hooker's perspective) advanced to protect his western flank instead of retreating like a good little outnumbered general should. Stonewall Jackson, who found his handful of brigades closer to the action, played out the Lee's aggressive plan in microcosm when he seized the initiative by attacking the Union's much larger force, surprising Hooker's advancing lead elements and causing their commanders to send panicked messages back to Hooker that things weren't going well.
I've Heard This Before Somewhere...
His nose unexpectedly bloodied by the rebel's refusal to withdraw politely, Hooker called off the forward momentum, dug in, and even hit his corps commander, General Darius Couch, with a bit of stupidity that can only be described as Rumsfeldian in its breadth:
"It is all right, Couch," Hooker reassured him, "I have got Lee just where I want him; he must fight me on my own ground."
National Park Service
Like "the commanders on the ground" with whom the Preznit "regularly consults" because "we'd rather fight them over there than over here," Hooker's subordinates were furious that he would fail to utilize his overwhelming advantages to steamroll the outnumbered and outgunned (albeit spirited) rebels who obstinately refused to do what the textbook said they ought to. Couch, especially, was pissed:
"To hear from his own lip that the advantages gained by the successful marches of his lieutenants were to culminate in fighting a defensive battle in that nest of thickets was too much, and I retired from his presence with the belief that my commanding general was a whipped man."
ibid.
Even as Hooker's will faltered, Stonewall Jackson was moving his corps in an impressive (and highly secretive) forced march along narrow paths in the thick forests of the Wilderness, then attacking and driving off a Union corps along a nearly two-mile front on Hooker's western flank. Now in position to continue his northern- and western circumnavigation of Hooker's army, Jackson (who, for all his tactical brilliance, was a bull-headed micromanager) rode out on a nighttime reconnaissance, only to have his small party mistaken for Union cavalry and fired upon as it approached the Confederate lines. Jackson was mortally wounded; he lost his left arm before dying of pneumonia eight days later.
The 9/11 My Pet Goat Stare, 19th-Century Style
Hooker's Calgon-take-me-away moment occurred in fighting around Chancellorsville Tavern itself, when a cannonball slammed into a pillar in front of his headquarters and the General was thrown violently to the ground. Dazed, he ordered his troops to fall back to the Rappahannock bridgeheads, passed partial command authority to Couch, then left his subordinates to ensure that the Union did not suffer anything worse than the humiliation of having an army of 135,000 (the largest of the war) thrown back by a force of 55,000. In the meantime, Confederate troops surrounding the now-burning former Union HQ were wildly cheering General Lee, who had appeared out of the smoke. One of his staff officers was moved to reflect:
"it must have been from such a scene that men in ancient times rose to the dignity of gods."
ibid.
For the Union, being backed up against the Rappahannock and destroyed was a very real threat, and one that was only avoided when the eastern wing of their invasion force finally broke through Fredericksburg and approached Lee from the rear. When that threat had been dealt with, and Lee again turned toward the main body, Hooker ordered an unphased redeployment to the north. He had taken more than 17,000 casualties, Lee 13,000.
Chancellorsville was an improbable victory for the South, and it was brought about largely because of the vast gulf in ability between the generals of the two sides. Still, it was costly, especially for the South: those casualty figures listed above represent 13% and 22% (respectively) of the armies involved, not to mention the loss of Stonewall Jackson. Nonetheless, Robert E. Lee - no doubt buoyed by scenes like the one at the Chancellorsville victory party - began to think his army invincible, regardless of his less-committed enemy's numbers. Within six weeks, he led would lead it toward Gettysburg.
Weird Historical Sidenote: Veterans of New York's 124th Infantry, who saw action at Chancellorsville, returned after the war to Port Jervis, hometown of Stephen Crane. Pretty convincing evidence that The Red Badge of Courage is based on the battle can be found at this site
Freedom On The March
On January 1st, 1863 - after Fredericksburg but before Chancellorsville - Abraham Lincoln made good on his promise of the previous September and went ahead and formalized the Emancipation Proclamation. Though it didn't actually liberate a single slave, it did mean that every inch of soil taken by Union forces represented an expansion of free territory. Lincoln thus upped the moral ante of the North's efforts to keep the recruits enlisting - by the time the war was almost two years old, pretty much everybody willing to volunteer to put his life on the line to save the republic already had; something bigger and even more noble would be needed to go after the next group of fence-sitters.
The Emancipation Proclamation (btw, the link above goes to the National Archives page, which has a transcript and photos of the original) also allowed for the recruitment of blacks into the Army and Navy - by the end of the war, over 200,000 enlisted and took part in what Lincoln's edict had made a fight about slavery. The most celebrated of these "black regiments" was the 54th Massachusetts Infantry, which began organizing shortly after the Proclamation. By June, 1863, the regiment was in the Southern Theater, pressuring Confederate fortifications along the coast of the Carolinas. As recounted in the 1989 film Glory, the 54th acquitted itself with astounding bravery and staggering losses (281 casualties) during a controversial and ultimately futile assault on well-entrenched Confederate artillery positions at Battery Wagner on July 18, 1863, and in so doing proved beyond the shadow of a doubt the ultimate sensibility of allowing blacks to take part in the emancipation of the slaves.
Weird Historical Sidenote, Pop Quiz Edition: Which of the following was/were members of the actual 54th Massachusetts?
A. Lewis and Charles Douglass, sons of famed abolitionist Frederick Douglass
B. Mathew Broderick
C. Morgan Freeman
D. Denzel Washington
Answer: If you gave a response other than "A," click on over to your Netflix account and put "Glory" in your queue
Even the Emancipation Proclamation wasn't enough to spur enlistment back to pre-Bull Run levels, however, and Lincoln was obligated to turn to a more compulsory means of drumming up recruits. The Confederacy, whose smaller population resulted in manpower shortages earlier than the Union's, had turned to involuntary military service in April, 1862; in March, 1863, Lincoln joined the drafting club by signing legislation for the conscription of northern men between the ages of 18 and 45.
You Get What You Pay For
The Civil War draft was every bit as fair as the one conducted during the Vietnam not-civil-war. If, like chickenhawk Rush Limbaugh ("who, ahhh...harrumph...did not serve in Vietnaaaamm..."), an enterprising young man could prove that he had a debilitating medical condition (such as a cyst on his ass), he could get a medical deferment. If a chickenhawk happened to be of the John D. Rockefeller/ Dick Cheney variety - a guy with "other priorities" - you could hire a less societally-valuable man to go die in your place, or simply pony up about 300 bucks and commute yourself entirely. To make it convenient for cowardly word-parsers (the Bushs and Gonzalezs of the era), there were built-in exemptions for lone male heirs and practitioners of specific professions.
Despite its size - Lincoln's initial call was for 300,000 conscripts - the draft never resulted in all that many (proportionally speaking) boots on the ground. Only about 6% of 249,259 men who were called ever served (source linked in blockquote below - u.m.) and when deployed on campaigns, often suffered harassment at the hands of those who had volunteered. Historical Times Encyclopedia of the Civil War, Patricia L. Faust, ed., pretty much sums it up:
But compulsory service embittered the public, who considered it an infringement on individual free will and personal liberty and feared it would concentrate arbitrary power in the military. Believing with some justification that unwilling soldiers made poor fighting men, volunteer soldiers despised conscripts. Conscription also undercut morale, as soldiers complained that it compromised voluntary enlistments and appeared as an act of desperation in the face of repeated military defeats.
Conscription nurtured substitutes, bounty-jumping, and desertion. Charges of class discrimination were leveled against both Confederate and Union draft laws since exemption and commutation clauses allowed propertied men to avoid service, thus laying the burden on immigrants and men with few resources. Occupational, only-son, and medical exemptions created many loopholes in the laws. Doctors certified healthy men unfit for duty, while some physically or mentally deficient conscripts went to the front after sham examinations. Enforcement presented obstacles of its own; many conscripts simply failed to report for duty. Several states challenged the draft's legality, trying to block it and arguing over the quota system. Unpopular, unwieldy, and unfair, conscription raised more discontent than soldiers.
via civilwarhome.com http://www.civilwarhome.com/...]
In the South, the situation was a little different, but the end results were the same. Rich guys could buy their way out, those with more than 20 slaves to look after were exempted, etc., but the acute disparity between northern and southern populations meant that attrition would work against the Confederacy in the long run. What they needed to do was expand the base, which Jefferson Davis did with successive draft acts that expanded the opportunity for military service ever closer to the edges of "cradle to grave." By the end of the war, the South was conscripting men between the ages of 17 and 50, and by late 1864, upwards of 1/3 of their army east of the Mississippi was composed of draftees.
Take That, Hippies!
So it was to be a rich man's fight and poor man's war. The shiftless masses in the cities of the North quickly recognized that they were getting the shaft, and took to the streets to express their displeasure. The anger was especially intense among Irish immigrants, who had been flooding into cities like New York and Boston in great numbers ever since the Potato Famine of '48: now they being told to go to war in order to set free even more competition for the low rungs on the economic ladder. Adding to the problem was the machine politics of the entire Tammany Hall era: the practice of registering the newly-arrived so as to pad local election rolls had suddenly made a great many unsuspecting people eligible for involuntary enlistment.
The first lists of draftee names were drawn in New York shortly after casualty figures from Gettysburg (July 1-3) had been published in the papers. When the second drawing and announcement was held on July 13, the city exploded in mob violence, much of it directed at African-Americans. For several days, rioters barricaded streets, looted and burned buildings, and lynched free blacks, until a hastily-assembled force of militia and volunteer regulars marched into the city and restored order by killing people. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 people died in the violence, with perhaps three times that many injured; property damage was in the neighborhood of $1.5 million (a little over 24 million, to you and me).
Weird Historical Sidenote: Martin Scorsese's 2002 film Gangs of New York depicted Federal ships firing indiscriminately into the city, but your resident historiorantologist hasn't had much luck in verifying that such naval gunfire actually occurred. Scorsese wouldn't alter history just to depersonalize the crackdown, would he?
The South faced resistance of a different sort, and press gangs and conscription agents learned to avoid isolated hollers where sharpshooting draft resisters might dwell - see Cold Mountain. Recruiters also found themselves significantly lowering the bar for acceptance into the ranks: It was said that if a man could see lightning and hear thunder, he was fit for service.
Historiorant: Welcome to the 19th century
This Sounds Familiar, Too...
Out West, Ulysses S. Grant was leading his forces toward the strategic town of Vicksburg, Mississippi; had been since April. Situated on high bluffs above a bend in the Mississippi River, ships passed below only at the pleasure of he who held Vicksburg. He laid siege to the town on May 22, and was creeping, digging, and flinging bombs toward it even as Lee approached the fateful field at Gettysburg. Things got pretty bad for the residents:
They wreaked their worst and utmost on the town, bringing out the most vicious of all war's aspects. That the ordinary atmosphere of life, the course of conversation, the thread of every human existence took in for nearly two months the momently contingency of these messengers of thunder and murder, is past ordinary comprehension. How many of them came and burst, nobody can have the least idea. An account says that on June 22d 150,000 shells fell inside of the city; but this was probably an exaggeration. They became at last such an ordinary occurrence of daily life that I have seen ladies walk quietly along the streets while the shells burst above them, their heads protected meanwhile by a parasol held between them and the sun.
Nothing was spared by the shells. The churches fared especially severely, and the reverend clergy had narrow escapes. The libraries of the Rev. Dr. Lord, of the Episcopalian, and of Rev. Dr. Rutherford, of the Presbyterian church, were both invaded and badly worsted. One Baptist church had been rendered useless for purposes of worship by the previous shelling. But what mattered churches, or ally-sacred place, or sacred exercise at such a time? There was nothing more striking about the interior of the siege than the breaking down of the ordinary partition between the days of the week, as well as the walls which make safe and sacred domestic life. During those long weeks there was no sound or summon of bell to prayer. There was no song of praise. The mortars had no almanac, and the mortars kept at home a perpetual service of fast and humiliation.
via civilwarhome.com
The siege culminated even as Pickett was charging on July 3rd at the Battle of Gettysburg, and Vicksburg surrendered the next day, just as Lee was withdrawing and Lincoln's new Johnny-on-the-spot, George Meade, was being a little lackadaisical about following him. Lincoln received the news of Grant's success at Vicksburg a little later than he did of Meade's at Gettysburg, but in it he saw a glimmer of hope that he might finally have found the general he'd been looking for.
Historiorant:
Alas, the deadline approacheth! And here I am, with no more moonbatification done on Gettysburg than some heavy foreshadowing! Well, regardless of how far I get next week, it'll be my last US history post for a little while - having reached nine diaries by me and one by aphra behn, this series has now equaled the Crusades in length, and I gotta take a break from writing this far out of my particular nook in the historical multiverse.
That does not mean the Cave of the Moonbat will be shuttered and closed, however! Indeed, you should continue to make regular Sunday evening visits, as well as encouraging all your friends and neighbors to do the same. You can promise them a 4-part tag-team effort on slavery with aphra behn, a rare Moonbat foray into the realm of comedy in partnership with Swordsmith for a role-playing game of Machiavellian dimensions, and perhaps a super-secret, super-blowout with the Grand Kahuna of All Things Meta, Buhdydharma. There'll also be a couple of country studies for a couple of very dear non-corporeal friends, then, if I've timed it right, I can get back to this Civil War just in time to have my diary on Andrew Johnson's impeachment coincide with the first phases of George Bush's.