Let Us Fight It Out - Chapter One

Room 5
Spotswood Hotel
Richmond, Virginia
May 5, 1863

Lieutenant General James Longstreet, commander of the Army of Northern Virginia’s First Corps, pushed back the faded curtains and gazed outside. The cadet gray sky was streaked with vermilion. Last night’s rain had moved out sometime after he had gone to bed. Puddles spotted the muddy streets. Quiet reigned except for a merchant across the way sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store.

Two days ago, the army had won a tremendous victory at a small village – no more than a crossroads in the Virginia wilderness – and sent the Union army scrambling back to Washington City to lick its wounds. A victory the army had won without him. He, along with Hood’s and Pickett’s divisions, had spent the winter in North Carolina securing food for Robert E. Lee’s starving soldiers.

In early March, Lee had sent a warning that the Yankees were preparing to cross the Rappahannock. Longstreet was to make immediate arrangements to return to Fredericksburg. It was an order Longstreet was in no hurry to obey. He had found something better to do than gather food. There were Yankees garrisoned in Suffolk, and he planned to seize the city and drive the enemy from North Carolina. But just as his plans were unfolding, the Yankees had crossed the Rappahannock in force. Urgent telegrams arrived from Richmond. Lee was in desperate straits and needed Longstreet and his men. Still, Longstreet took his time to move, hoping that the order would be rescinded and he could remain in North Carolina.

Hearing voices in the hall, Longstreet turned from the window and listened to Jeb Stuart implore his “good and gallant Jackson” to hurry up, for Stuart was starving. Jackson mumbled something in return.

Longstreet shook his head in amusement. That was one relationship he couldn’t figure out: the boisterous Stuart and the puritanical, devout Jackson. They were polar opposites except Stuart was the only man in the army who could match Jackson’s zeal for all things sacred. Longstreet gave the young cavalry leader credit though. Around Stuart’s teasing ways, Jackson was almost human…and likeable. Their footsteps faded and the hall was silent.

Longstreet sat down at the desk and opened his portfolio. The leather notebook released its tight grip on papers and marked-up maps and splayed them over the scratched surface of the desk. He unfolded a map of Vicksburg and the surrounding vicinity. Right now, his old friend, Sam Grant, was poised to seize the city and, with it, control of the Mississippi River. The Confederates, under General John Pemberton, were scattered throughout the Mississippi countryside trying in vain to stop the Union juggernaut. If Grant forced the Confederates into Vicksburg, both the city and army would be lost.

The situation cried out for the strong hand of a purposeful commander. A commander who could rally the demoralized troops and stave off the disaster threatening to consume the South and end its bid for independence. It cried out for someone like him.

But Longstreet desired to go west for another reason. He was slowly suffocating under the shadows of Lee and Jackson. Over the past two years, both men had cheated him of accolades that belonged to him. After all, it had been his brigade that had been responsible for the majority of the victories on the Peninsula when the Confederates had hurled McClellan’s great army from the gates of Richmond. It had been his corps that had withstood the bloody attack at Sharpsburg, and the victory at Fredericksburg had been due to his defensive line and nothing else.

But as a Georgian in an army named for Virginia, he received very little credit. Oh, Lee may affectionately call him “his old war horse,” but in the past year, Lee had turned more and more to the taciturn Jackson to shape the army’s strategy. Longstreet deeply resented being pushed aside in favor of the VMI professor.

He set the map aside and picked up the proposal he planned to present at this morning’s meeting with President Davis. He was confident Lee would propose an invasion of the North, and knowing Lee as he did, he was also certain that the plan would concentrate only on short term remedies and not long term solutions.

His plan, on the other hand, gathered up all the Confederate forces – the Army of Mississippi, the Army of Tennessee, and the Army of Northern Virginia – for an invasion of the North through Kentucky. This would force Grant to break off his attack on Vicksburg. The Confederates would cross the Ohio River, turn, dig in, and have the Yankees wreck themselves on the Confederates’ strong defenses. He would assume command of the western armies and overall command of the invasion. Yes, even over Lee.

Humming tunelessly, he updated the maps with the latest intelligence. The sun came up, the candlelight faded, and his papers were bathed in rich, golden light. A knock at the door roused him from his task.

“General!” It was his adjutant, Moxley Sorrel.

“Come in, Major. Door is open.”

Sorrel burst into the room. The young man, handsome with his dark hair and mustache, was a fellow Georgian and considered by many to be the best chief-of-staff in the Confederate army. Those in the Second Corps would vigorously protest that Sandie Pendleton was Sorrel’s superior, but they would be wrong. “General Lee wants to know if you’ll join him for a quick breakfast.”

“Tell General Lee I’ll be right down.”

Sorrel backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Longstreet jammed the papers into the portfolio and forced it closed.

***

Longstreet sat in a rickety chair opposite the thick oak door of President Jefferson Davis’ office. He gripped and released his portfolio until his knuckles hurt. He shifted in his seat and leaned back. The chair squeaked in protest. Burton Harrison, Davis’ secretary, glanced up from his papers long enough to frown reproachfully.

Longstreet had been correct about Lee’s intentions. In this morning’s meeting, the commanding general announced that he wanted to go north. In the silence that followed Lee’s declaration, and before Longstreet could open his leather case, Jackson, always Jackson, had spoken. Of course, the Presbyterian had his own plan – some nonsense about occupying coalfields and damaging the northern economy.

It was folly, but Jackson had gotten Davis’ attention with high talk about defeating the Army of the Potomac, occupying Harrisburg, and perhaps affecting the presidential election. Davis was won over. Jackson left Richmond immediately to prepare his corps to march to Pennsylvania and Jeb Stuart went with him.

Longstreet sent word to a well placed contact within Davis’ office that he needed to see the president on an urgent matter. He warned his contact to approach the president only after Lee had left the White House.

Some might see such subterfuge as a betrayal, but Longstreet didn’t care about appearances. He knew Lee’s influence with Davis was so great that a simple shake of Lee’s gray head would keep Longstreet forever chained to the Army of Northern Virginia.

His contact was true to his mission. He sent word to Longstreet that Davis would see him at three o’clock.

Longstreet sat at his desk and gutted his proposal. Gone was any mention of the Army of Northern Virginia. He would leave the East to Lee and Jackson. He would go west and prove two things: that Lee and Jackson were nothing without him and that his defensive strategy was far superior to Jackson’s flank moves and Lee’s audaciousness.

The door opened and Secretary of War James Seddon motioned for him to enter. Longstreet unfolded his long frame and smoothed his jacket. He gripped his portfolio, cleared all doubt from his mind, and marched into the president’s office.

“General Longstreet.” Davis greeted him warmly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it best if Secretary Seddon joined us.”

“Yes, sir.” Longstreet waited at the round table, his portfolio clutched in front of him.

“Sit, sit!” Davis ordered, settling back in his chair. “Now what’s so important that you had to see me immediately? I do wish you’d have given me more notice. I’d have liked General Lee to sit in on this meeting as well.”

Longstreet held his breath. Had the president sent for Lee?

“But my runner informs me that General Lee is unavailable. So, you’ll have to settle for us.”

“I’m very happy to do so,” Longstreet said in relief.

“Now what can I do for you?” Davis asked.

Longstreet cleared his throat and spoke quickly. “I believe the situation out west is critical. If we don’t do something in the next few days to change it, the war will be lost.”

Davis folded his hands on the table. “What do you suggest?”

“Consolidate all the commands scattered throughout the Department of Mississippi into a single army under my command.”

Davis shot Seddon a wary look.

Longstreet also glanced at Seddon, but the Secretary’s face didn’t give away what he was thinking. Seddon gestured for Longstreet to continue. “I believe I’ve proven my worth as both a corps and an independent commander.”

“You’re one of the best,” Seddon responded.

“General, how developed are your plans?” Davis asked.

Longstreet stared at the president for a long moment. How many letters had he sent Davis since the first of the year? At least a dozen, if not more. He opened his portfolio and selected a map. Unfolding it, he set it before the commander-in-chief. “There’s only one way to prevent Vicksburg from being captured. We need to concentrate our forces in Tennessee. I’m talking about gathering them all in. Pemberton’s army, Taylor’s small force, the army General Johnston is assembling in Jackson, General Gardner’s force at Port Hudson, and Bragg’s army at Tullahoma.”

Davis folded the map and handed it back to Longstreet. “Absolutely not! That will leave the entire river open to the Yankees.”

Longstreet appealed to Seddon but the Secretary sat impassive. Longstreet cleared his throat. “The river is threatened because Grant’s army is between Pemberton’s scattered forces and Bragg’s inactive one.”

Davis held up his hand. “I’ve heard all of this from General Johnston.”

“General Johnston is essentially correct,” Longstreet insisted. He reopened the map and slid it over to Davis. “If we don’t concentrate our forces, Grant will drive General Pemberton into Vicksburg and besiege the city. Then he will march to Murfreesboro and combine his forces with the Army of the Cumberland. A quick march to capture Chattanooga and from there, Atlanta and Savannah.”

“But Vicksburg!”

Longstreet unfolded another map. “Vicksburg isn’t Grant’s true target.”

Davis turned his head to stare out the window.

“Go on, General.” This came from Seddon.

Longstreet turned his attention from the President’s averted head to the approving face of the Secretary of War. “Before General Grant can take Vicksburg, he must defeat Pemberton or risk being shut up in Vicksburg himself.”

Davis turned back from the window and stared at Seddon, who slowly nodded.

Confidence shot through Longstreet. He had an ally. He passed another map to the Secretary. “I know Sam Grant. Before the war he was one of my best friends. I know the way he thinks and how he will react in most circumstances.”

Davis leaned back in his chair. “Really?”

Longstreet’s nod in response was authoritative. He did know Sam Grant. “Grant will push Pemberton into Vicksburg and starve him out. We can’t allow that to happen. If we combine all our forces, we can match the Yankees in manpower. We move swiftly against Rosecrans, defeat his army, then march through Tennessee and Kentucky and invade the Ohio Valley. Grant will have no choice but to leave Mississippi and chase us. We maneuver around him, find good ground, and make him attack us.”

Davis pulled on his iron gray goatee as he contemplated Longstreet’s words “No, we can’t lose Vicksburg!”

From the expression on Davis’ face, Longstreet knew he was in danger of being dismissed. “We can if it helps us drive the Yankees from our land.”

“You sound more and more like General Johnston,” Davis declared. “His telegrams are filled front to back with tactical retreats and dire warnings.”

“Except General Johnston’s only strategy is to retreat. He never commits his troops to battle. I do and I will.”

Davis’ gaze returned to the window.

“That’s true,” Seddon said.

What was true? That Johnston didn’t put his troops into the fray or that he, Longstreet, would fight. Longstreet wasn’t sure.

“The Army of Northern Virginia is heading north,” Davis said to the window.

“Public relations.” Longstreet was dismissive.

It was the wrong thing to say. Davis went rigid with anger. Another surreptitious glance at Seddon revealed that his remark had also angered the Secretary.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Longstreet swiftly backpedaled. “I believe Lee’s march is the right strategy for the eastern theater, but west is where we’ll win our independence.”

Davis relented. Longstreet handed the President his proposal.

Davis quickly read the first few pages and handed them to Seddon. “Why not just give this plan to General Johnston. He’s already in Mississippi.”

Longstreet’s blue eyes revealed his fear. What if they accepted his plan but rejected him?

Before he could speak, Seddon did. “I think the most important component of any winning strategy is the commanding general.”

Davis opened another map and studied the Mississippi’s winding curves. “General Johnston feels that the department is too much for one man to handle.”

Longstreet sensed a trap. Either Davis was planning to dilute his command from the outset or he was seeking assurances that Johnston was the man for the job. He leaned back in his chair. His fingers rifled through the edges of his papers while he thought his way clear of the snare. “I’d have to disagree with General Johnston’s assessment. I believe the situation calls for one commander.”

Davis studied Longstreet. “Is General Johnston that one commander?”

Longstreet paused. Johnston was a good friend, and he didn’t want to harm Johnston’s reputation. “If General Johnston had fully recovered from his wounds, then, yes, he’d be that commander,” he said slowly, “but he hasn’t and that hinders him.”

Davis seemed to agree with Longstreet’s assessment. He picked up the proposal and scanned it again. “Having a steady leader would certainly solve an enormous problem,” he said to Seddon.

“As I have suggested several times,” Seddon replied.

“Yes, you have,” Davis said tightly. “General Longstreet, whereas I appreciate this proposal, I do have to say that with the army headed north, I believe your place is with your corps.”

Longstreet swallowed deeply. “There are many capable generals in the army who can lead the First Corps: A.P. Hill, Generals Ewell or Hood. I’m needed out west.” He swallowed again. That last sentence made him sound desperate.

Davis chewed on the remark as he reread the proposal. “Have you spoken to General Lee about this?”

Longstreet stepped warily around the subject of Lee. “Since my detachment from the army, my communication with General Lee has dealt mainly with supplies. I left any talk of strategy for a face-to-face meeting. Due to the extreme emergency we find ourselves in, I haven’t had the opportunity.”

“What do you think he’d say?” Seddon asked.

“I think he’d agree with me.”

Davis sighed. “The Confederacy is in extreme emergency and I have no confidence in General Johnston or General Bragg to successfully deal with the Yankees.” Davis’ head dropped down on his chest. He closed his eyes. “What do you think, Secretary Seddon?”

“I believe General Longstreet’s an answer to prayer,” Seddon said, smiling at Longstreet.

Longstreet held his breath.

“I agree,” Davis replied, opening his eyes and raising his head. “General Longstreet, I approve your proposal. How soon can you leave for Tennessee?”

Longstreet wasn’t ready to accept Davis’ offer just yet. He hadn’t received everything he wanted or needed. He splayed his large hands on the table. “Sir, I am a lieutenant general…”

“Yes, yes.” Davis waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll recommend your promotion to full general to the Congress.”

Longstreet swallowed his triumphant smile. “Then I can leave for Tennessee at first light.”

“Excellent!” Davis stood, followed promptly by Seddon.

Longstreet kept his seat.

“What else?” Davis questioned impatiently.

“General Lee.”

“I’ll inform General Lee of my decision at dinner.”

Longstreet stood.

Davis offered his hand. “General, I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake.”

Longstreet gripped Davis’ hand. “No, sir, you don’t.”

***

Robert E. Lee stood across the street from the Spotswood Hotel and stared through the hotel’s wide windows at the hectic activity in the lobby. He spied Major Sorrel hurrying through the room. Where was Longstreet? He wasn’t visible, but Lee was certain his old war horse was in the middle of the crush of men, orchestrating the commotion.

Two couriers exited the hotel on the run and headed toward the telegraph office. They clutched slips of papers in their hands; most likely orders to Longstreet’s new subordinates out west – the most fractious and ambitious bunch of men in the entire Confederate army. Well, Longstreet was welcome to them.

Dinner was winding down when Davis had brusquely informed him that late this afternoon the Congress had approved Longstreet’s reassignment to the Department of Mississippi and promotion to full general. Davis paused so Lee could object, but Lee said nothing. In the silence, Davis stammered out justification after justification for snatching Longstreet away on the eve of the army’s invasion of the North.

As Davis stumbled through his list of reasons, Lee could only nod in agreement. The situation out west was deteriorating rapidly. But if there was going to be a change in command, then Jackson was better suited to lead an army against the aggressive Grant. Lee was preparing to offer Jackson but stopped before he did. It was a selfish impulse, yet it snatched the words clean from his throat. He didn’t want Jackson to leave his command. He would miss the reticent professor. Over the past winter a friendship had grown between the two men – a friendship Lee took pleasure in.

When Davis’ last reason had faded away, Lee acquiesced because he didn’t really have a choice. The decision had been made and the orders given. All Lee could do now was make a list of candidates to replace Longstreet.

Another courier dashed down the street. Major Sorrel stood framed in the doorway. As he turned to go back inside, he spied Lee and waved. Lee waved back and headed across the street toward the hotel.

***

“Sir, General Lee is coming,” Sorrel announced.

Longstreet suddenly felt like a disobedient child about to face a disapproving father. He steeled himself and forced the panic away. He had no reason to be intimidated. This afternoon he had become Lee’s equal. When he chased Grant from Mississippi, he would finally usurp the Virginian in the public’s affection.

He drained the whiskey from his glass and set it down on the table with a thud. He stood as Lee approached.

Lee waved him back into his seat and fell wearily into the chair across the way. In the candlelight, Lee looked older than his 56 years.

“Robert,” Longstreet said in greeting.

“General Longstreet.”

Longstreet ignored the reprimand in Lee’s voice. “When will you be returning to the army?”

“I’ve a few things to wrap up here first.”

“I’m headed for Tennessee tomorrow morning,” Longstreet said, careful to keep his voice free of triumph.

“So I’ve heard.” Lee rose. “Well, it’s late.”

“Robert, before you go, I want to talk to you about Stuart.”

Lee frowned and retook his seat. “What about General Stuart?”

“I’d like him to come to Tennessee with me.”

Lee’s frown deepened. “I don’t think I could do without General Stuart’s services.”

“Now, don’t be stingy, Robert,” he scolded. “You’ve plenty of officers to take Stuart’s place.”

Lee pulled hard on his shirt cuff.

Longstreet gave him a stare. “Are you not even open to the possibility that my need for Stuart could outweigh yours?”

“No.” Lee was abrupt.

Longstreet chuckled. “Perhaps we should bring the matter up to the president.”

Lee raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had quite a day, General. Why not be satisfied with the victories already won?”

Longstreet wanted to speak angry words, but Lee was on his feet.

“I wish you success in your new command. I know how much you longed for it and what was involved in securing it. I hope all your corps commanders obey your orders as swiftly as you obeyed mine last week. Goodnight.”

Without turning back, Lee disappeared from the lobby.