Chapter 20: The River War
Ulysses S. Grant did not seem like the savior of the Union. He hadn’t achieved a victory like McDowell had; neither did he have the Napoleonic manner of McClellan or the decisive bravery of Lyon. Diffident, tormented by alcoholism that often drew unfair criticism and threw him into depression, Grant however proved himself to be equal to the task at hand. His legend started in 1862, when he conducted the war in the Mississippi after General Polk invaded the state.
Polk’s maneuver had been ill-advised, and it quickly lit the flame of Kentucky Unionism. “The actions of the Southern General,” a secessionist grimly concluded, “have destroyed the support we had enjoyed beforehand.” Despite this, thousands of Kentuckians rallied to the Southern banner, deciding that Lincoln was a greater threat than Breckinridge. Pushed to join a side, Kentuckians split equally in favor of the rebels and the federals, with around 40,000 fighting for each side during the war – though it would eventually tilt in favor of the Union in later years. Nonetheless, in the first years of the war Kentucky was still hotly contested, and the possibility of it falling to the Confederates was a very real one. The Lincoln administration, naturally, focused a lot of resources in securing the Union’s control over the state. The southernmost Union base at Cairo, Illinois, became a formidable supply depot and training area for this very purpose, and also resources were dedicated to acquiring and solidifying control over the many rivers of the region.
The rivers, as both Frémont and Grant recognized, would be vital for any campaign. The importance of the Mississippi is obvious enough, yet it still cannot be overstated. The Father of the Waters figured as an important part of the Anaconda Plan; taking it would split the Confederacy in twain, and provide access to the very heartland of the South. There were also other very important rivers in the region. Unlike Virginia, where the west-east orientation of the rivers served as an asset to the rebels, in the west most rivers actually benefited the bluejackets. The Confederacy placed its hopes in strategic forts that prevented ships from sailing down the river, thus hopefully warding off invasions and forcing the foe to march uselessly and sink under mud and disease. One factor working against these Confederate “Gibraltars” was the fact that the Union could build better ships, and employ them with more efficacy.
Part of it is, of course, the material element. The Confederacy simply did not have the resources to spare. Precious steel was better used in the production of arms and artillery, and even in that area it was scarce. This explains why the Confederates found it so hard to make boats in the quality and quantity necessary to completely keep the Union out from the Mississippi and its tributaries. Soldiers were also hard to come by. The problems the Breckinridge administration faced when it came to concentrating its forces have already been explained; to them, it should be added that the Confederate leadership often seemed strangely disinterested in the west, giving the lion’s share of attention, supplies and soldiers to the Maryland theater – and even there, Beauregard’s soldiers often complained of shortages.
Material superiority by itself would not be enough. Fortunately for Lincoln, the Union had also striking human talent. The main genius behind the river flotilla that so helped Grant in 1862 was James B. Eads, the Indiana-born resident of St. Louis who had been contracted by the government to build ships for use in the rivers of the region. The odd design of the ships could be owed to the genius of Samuel Pook, the main naval designer. Nicknamed "Pook’s turtles" due to their flat bottom, wide beams and thick iron armor, the ships were more than a match for the hastily converted Confederate gunboats. Their thirteen guns made them especially fearsome enemies of the Confederate forts that guarded the river system. Another formidable foe was Andrew Hull Foote, the naval officer in charge of the Western Gunboat Flotilla.
Outwardly, Foote seemed like the opposite of Grant. A naval officer with firm and deep religious beliefs that pushed him towards abolitionism and abstinence from alcohol, he contrasted Grant and his alcohol problems, lack of religious fervor and indifference towards slavery. Yet they established a good working relationship that bore good results for the Union they both cherished.
Grant and Foote’s fruitful cooperation helped to overcome the problem of army-navy relations when it came to inland water operations. Betraying the simple fact that the United States did not have the necessary institutional precedents for such a large and industrial war, there was a lot of confusion regarding how this kind of operation was to be conducted. The War Department quickly asserted that any inland operation was the Army’s responsibility, resulting in the peculiar arrangement of the Navy building, maintaining and piloting the ships but the Army being in charge. Congress would in due time rectify this, but in the meantime the Union leaders there had to make do with perplexing command chains and ragtag crews formed of sailors, soldiers, civilians and practically anyone else that was up to the task. Ironically enough, the gunboats earned their greater laurels here.
The first operation was an attack against the heights of Columbus, Kentucky, just south of Cairo. Polk had taken them at the start of his unwise invasion, and he then proceeded to fortify them with some 140 guns. The formidable position was the first to receive the perhaps haughty nickname of “Gibraltar of the West” – the rebels, much to their own frustration, also did not have an equivalent of the Royal Navy to defend it. Other forts dotted the Mississippi in its downriver course to Memphis, but they were poorly equipped because President Breckinridge, wanting to retake his beloved home state, had insisted on the fortification of the Cumberland and Tennessee rivers. Very important strategically, Union control of the rivers would make communications with Kentucky more difficult and put one of the Confederacy’s most important wheat-growing and mule-raising regions at risk.
Breckinridge chose a fellow son of Kentucky to command the Southern forces in the area. Albert Sydney Johnston had great military experience, being a veteran of the Black Hawk War, the Texan Revolution and the Mexican-American War. He had come to consider himself a Texan, and true to that he spent most of his years in the peacetime-army in the Lone Star State. His reputation and prestige earned him the respect and admiration of many, including, critically, that of Secretary of War Jefferson Davis. His personal story in the first months of the war even befitted that of a great general in the making – he resigned his position as commander of the California Department, evaded capture by armed patrols and set out in a daring trek across the continent to the Confederacy, to which he pledged his loyalty and service. His legend, commanding height and his pleasant manner gave him authority and respect. Davis went as far as naming him "the greatest soldier, the ablest man, civil or military, Confederate or Federal."
Now it was time to live up to that legend. His Department of the West had around 80,000 Confederates facing more than 100,000 Federals in a line that covered eastern Kentucky and parts of Missouri. While Johnston had been granted complete authority in the Confederate West, Union leadership was divided between the shrewd and capable, but oftentimes reckless and aggressive Nathaniel Lyon, and the impatient and battle-ready William T. Sherman. Lyon had been appointed commander of the Department of Missouri after Lincoln had been forced to dismiss Frémont. For his part, Sherman was sent to Kentucky following his distinguished participation in the Battle of Baltimore, where his regiment proved essential in pinning down Confederate reinforcements and thus securing victory.
But, worryingly enough, Sherman had started to display erratic behavior that points out to a nervous collapse. His demand for many more men was logical enough; the Battle of Baltimore had already shown that this was not to be a 90 days war. What alarmed his subordinates and superiors was his seeming paranoia when it came to spies, and his surly behavior. Nowadays, it’s pretty clear that Sherman fell into a case of depression. He even confessed in a letter that he entertained thoughts of suicide. His inability to help East Tennessee’s Unionists had been forgiven in account of his service at Baltimore and the fact that the difficult terrain made such a move all but impossible, but it still constituted a hit to his confidence.
Lincoln, still trying to find a winning strategy, asked Sherman and Lyon to cooperate. Urged on by General-in-chief Scott to keep up the planned descend on the Mississippi instead of “ghastly combats such as those at Baltimore”, Lincoln wanted to use his superior numbers to overwhelm the Confederates. "Attack different points, at the same time," the President advised his generals. Sherman was not willing to do so due to his wildly exaggerated estimations of Confederate strength in the zone, but Lyon was eager.
The Missourian found a like-minded official in Grant. The confidence of the Ohioan had been rising steadily, in part because his modesty and common-sense aptitude inspired respect and obedience from the enlisted men and earned him the high esteem of his superiors. The main factor seems to be a now famous anecdote about his first action as a colonel of an Illinois regiment. Fear and the desire to get out of the battlefield seemed to grapple Grant as he approached the rebel camp. Though personally brave, a trait he had shown sufficiently in the Mexican War, Grant now had the weight of command on his shoulders. Yet he carried on. When he finally reached the camp, he saw that the rebels had fled. The Southern commander, Grant realized, "had been as much afraid of me as I had been of him. This was a view of the question I had never taken before; but it was one I never forgot. . . . The lesson was valuable." The sang froid he acquired there would be expressed clearly in another incident, when a larger Confederate force encircled him and he decided against surrender, simply saying that "we had cut our way in and could cut our way out just as well." And he proceeded then to do just that.
Grant suggested attacking Fort Henry on the Cumberland, a suggestion Lyon listened to almost immediately. Though the hot-headed Lyon had initially wanted to attack Columbus head on, he was no fool, and he recognized that Fort Henry was not well-placed, and that Johnston had neglected it because he expected the Union to attack Columbus or Bowling Green. Grant quickly landed to the South of Fort Henry in early January, but his troops slogged in the mud thanks to heavy rains. Ultimately, Foote’s gunboats did most of the work. Grant’s troops only arrived to take in the artillery company that had stayed in the Fort. Most of the garrison recognized that the situation was hopeless, and withdrew to Fort Donelson on the Cumberland, some 12 miles away from Fort Henry.
Now Grant was in the middle of the two main Confederate forces, something that understandably alarmed Johnston. Now the Federals could freely choose whether they wanted to attacked Columbus from the rear or subdue Donelson first. The possibility that distressed the Confederate general the most was Grant attacking his front while Sherman attacked him from the other side. The aggressive Lyon was quick to favor this idea, as he wanted to secure the complete destruction of the enemy. Grant had wanted to subdue Fort Donelson first, but Lyon decided not to miss this opportunity to crush the rebels. And thus, Grant was directed to bypass Fort Donelson and instead attack Johnston at Bowling Green.
The task of Johnston was harder thanks to the contradicting orders and desires of the President and the other Johnston. While Joseph E. Johnston, a believer in cautious defense, wanted Albert Sidney Johnston to retreat to a line along Nashville and protect the important iron there, Breckinridge did not want to leave his native state undefended. Ultimately, Breckinridge decided to concede to his general in-chief, but it’s clear that his opinion played a part in Albert Sidney Johnston’s ultimate decision of taking his whole army to Fort Donelson, where he hoped to defeat Grant before Sherman appeared behind him, retake Fort Henry thus securing his position at Columbus (which would need the repair of the vital Louisville and Nashville Railroad that Grant had cut) and then turn back to defend Nashville when Sherman came to attack him. Basically, Johnston was aiming for a offensive-defensive stroke that would allow him to face each Union army separately, with the possibility of retreating to Nashville still open if necessary.
The pieces were thus set for the first great battle of the Civil War in the west, one that pitted Lyon and Grant’s 45,000 men against Johnston’s 40,000. The destiny of Kentucky was to be decided in that pivotal confrontation, which started in January 19th, 1862. Like Baltimore, this battle would set a new standard for a new war, and create legends for ages to come. It would, also, be one of the bloodiest yet fought.
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AN: So, this chapter is a little shorter than usual, and also ends in a cliffhanger, mainly because I wanted to hear you guy's ideas, speculations and opinions before writing how this battle will actually take place. I fully admit that I'm more comfortable with social and political than with military and economic matters, and here's where the war starts to wildly diverge from OTL, so I'd like to hear some advice from you all. I do have a plan for how it all is going to unfold, but some further information never hurts.