Let Us Fight It Out - Chapter 3

Bragg’s Headquarters
May 20, 1863

Bragg stared across the table at an exhausted Pemberton and watched him drain his fifth cup of coffee. Next to Pemberton sat a dusty Forrest snoring quietly, sound asleep in the chair he had plopped down in.

Bragg and Pemberton made surreptitious glances at the tent door. An hour ago, word had arrived from Longstreet’s adjutant that Longstreet wanted to meet briefly with his commanders. Bragg had a million questions about the future and he was sure that Pemberton did too.

Obviously, the assembling of the two armies meant one thing. The Confederates were going on the offense. But against whom? Grant, who had seized Vicksburg two days ago, or Rosecrans’ Army of the Cumberland now encamped at Murfreesboro?

The sound of horses. Forrest woke with a start. The tent flap opened. A captain entered followed by a major. A brief moment passed as if staged for dramatic effect, then General Longstreet strode into the tent. The moment of truth had arrived. Here was Richmond’s champion! The generals rose.

Longstreet handed his hat and gauntlets to the captain and accepted a weather-beaten portfolio from the major. He faced his gawking generals and took them in with one sweeping glance.

Bragg stepped forward. “Good evening, General Longstreet. I’m General Bragg.” He held out his hand. Longstreet’s grip was firm. Bragg turned toward Pemberton and Forrest, both standing somewhat at attention. “This is General Pemberton and General Forrest.”

“General Pemberton,” Longstreet said, “General Lee wanted me to give you his warm regards.”

“How is the General?” Pemberton asked. A smile graced his weary face.

“Preparing to follow General Jackson’s corps into Pennsylvania.”

Forrest sat back down and grabbed a coffee cup. “We shoulda done that a year ago,” he snorted.

“General Forrest!” Bragg snapped, irritated by the cavalry leader’s bluntness.

Forrest glared at him before splashing the rest of the pot’s content into his cup.

Longstreet gestured toward the table. “Let’s sit, gentlemen.” He sat next to Forrest and opened his portfolio. Pemberton and Bragg returned to their places.

“You may not be aware of it, General Longstreet, but Vicksburg has fallen,” Pemberton announced.

“Yes, I did know that.”

“It needn’t have happened. My army could have protected the city.” Pemberton was defensive.

“Perhaps,” Longstreet replied with a casual shrug.

Pemberton bristled. “Perhaps!” He jerked back in his chair and folded his arms.

Longstreet gave a small smile and held up his hand. “General Pemberton, smooth your ruffled feathers. I’m not belittling your men or their fighting prowess. I’m sure they are the finest in the Confederacy. But, gentlemen, let’s not deceive ourselves. The war is being lost, here, in the west. Richmond has sent me to right this sinking ship. And I mean to do just that.”

Bragg took umbrage at the statement. Maybe not with the statement’s truth but certainly with the cold, hard way it was delivered. He followed Pemberton’s lead, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms across his chest.

Longstreet didn’t seem to notice that he had offended two of his generals. “Gentlemen, the blame doesn’t belong with you or with your men,” he continued, “but to a strategy devised in Richmond that has tried to defend too much land with too little men.”

Bragg repented of his hasty judgment. Longstreet had pinpointed a major source of the failure suffered by the commands in the west. He unfolded his arms.

“It’s time to change that strategy and give our armies the opportunity to show the Yankees their mettle,” Longstreet finished.

“What do ya have in mind?” Forrest asked. He emptied his cup.

Longstreet opened his portfolio and drew out a map. He unfolded it and slid it over to Bragg.

Bragg placed a finger on the map. If he was to be relieved, then he wanted to be relieved now, before Longstreet unfolded whatever plan he had been sent west with. “Sir, before you go on, what happens to the armies and their commanders?”

Pemberton leaned forward. “That’s a question I’d like an answer to.”

Longstreet looked Bragg in the eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, everyone begins with a clean slate. Obey my orders, and you’ll keep your commands.”

At the news, relief swept through Bragg. He raised his eyes to Heaven and uttered a silent prayer of thanksgiving.

Longstreet unfolded another map and set it before Pemberton. “We’re going to push Rosecrans out of the way and head toward the Ohio River.”

Forrest slapped his hand on the table. “It’s about time!”

Bragg raised a hand. “Hold on,” he said to Forrest. He turned his attention to Longstreet. “Push Rosecrans out of the way, where?”

“Toward Shelbyville,” Longstreet answered. “We’re going to force him to either do battle with us as we pour through Guy’s Gap and Bell Buckle Gap or retreat.”

Bragg shook his head in disagreement. “He can easily flank us through either Liberty Gap or Hoover Gap.”

Longstreet pointed at the map. “Not if we cut the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad.” He reached over and drew Bragg’s map to him. “For Rosecrans or any other Union commander, their most pressing concern is protecting their supply lines. It’s their Achilles’ heel.

“That’s how we stopped Grant cold last December,” Forrest said. “When Van Dorn burnt the Yankees’ supply depot at Holly Springs, Grant had no choice but to break off his attack on Vicksburg.”

“Thank you for the history lesson,” Bragg sharply rebuked.

Forrest warded off the reprimand with a shrug of his shoulder.

“We cut the railroad and Rosecrans will have to attack or retreat. The Barrens will protect us from an attack through Liberty or Hoover Gaps,” Longstreet explained.

“That made sense,” Bragg thought. His army had stripped The Barrens of what little it had produced months ago.

“Once we dispatch Rosecrans, the way to the Ohio will be wide open,” Longstreet continued. “Mr. Lincoln can’t have both the Army of Northern Virginia and our combined forces tramping unopposed through the North. He’ll have no choice but to send Grant after us.”

Bragg reclaimed the map from Longstreet. “I think it’s a mistake to plan a strategy based on what Lincoln will or will not do. He could easily order Grant south toward Atlanta. We would have no choice but to break off our invasion.”

Longstreet took a cigar from his pocket. He twirled it between thumb and forefinger. “There is that possibility and I won’t deny it.” He bit off the end of the cigar and spat it on the ground. “But we have two choices. We can wait for Grant to combine with Rosecrans and then push toward Atlanta, or we can take the initiative and force the Yankees to dance to our tune.” He lit the cigar and puffed out a cloud of smoke.

Of the two scenarios, Bragg preferred the latter. “When do we go?”

“General Pemberton, when will your men arrive?” Longstreet asked.

“They’re about two days away. But sir, they’ve fought hard for the past six months and have marched hard for the last few days. They’ll need rest.”

“They’ll have it.” Longstreet rounded on Forrest. “General, I’m going to give you the task of cutting and holding the railroad.”

“I’ll need Morgan’s and Wheeler’s brigades put under my command.”

“Major Sorrel,” Longstreet called. The adjutant retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote quickly. He handed the note to the captain, who exited the tent. “Gentlemen, I know it’s late and General Pemberton and General Forrest have ridden many miles today. Let’s meet here tomorrow morning after we’ve all had a good night’s sleep and discuss the particulars. I’ll give out specific assignments then and answer any questions you may have.”

Longstreet stood. The generals followed suit. “If there’s nothing else.” He didn’t wait for answer. He exited the tent.