Grant Comes East - Civil War 02 (40 page)

"That's a lot of manpower," Burnside interjected.

"Well spent," Haupt replied. "Twenty trains a day on that line could sustain the army while it advanced, cutting down drastically on our need for wagons and mules. I'm stockpiling over a hundred miles of track, twenty thousand ties, material for water tanks and switching. The Cumberland line managed to get five of its locomotives back here before the bridge was burned, and we'll get additional rolling stock and locomotives from the Pennsylvania and the Reading. The bridge a dozen miles above Marysville is still intact to the west shore, thank God, so we can run supplies directly down to you once the campaign starts.

"If, and again I'm only saying if, the campaign takes us down to the Potomac, once into Harper's Ferry, your new supply line can run out of the west from the Baltimore and Ohio. I'm stockpiling replacement bridges for that line as well. I only wish I had enough men and material. I think I could throw a connecting line from Hagerstown across down to the B&O in less than a month if I had five thousand men."

"We'll see," Grant said with a smile.

This man was the type of soldier he liked, and he was amazed that Haupt's skills were never fully appreciated here in the East. Haupt had only confessed to him the day before that he had been seriously contemplating retiring from the army, fed up with its bureaucracy and backstabbing. Fortunately Grant had been able to convince him to stay on to the end of the campaign, promoted him to major general, and given him complete control of all military operations on all railroads in the country.

And Haupt was indeed right. If the campaign did take them to the Potomac and beyond, it would be worth the effort to run a railroad track from Hagerstown the twenty miles to a hookup with the Baltimore and Ohio. Such an accomplishment would give him a link from Harrisburg to Harper's Ferry, and from there clear down to the Shenandoah Valley, linking as well back to the Midwest. It was the type of project undreamed of five years ago, to run a line twenty miles in one month, solely for the purpose of supporting an army in the field. Today, if need be, it could be done, and if he gave the order, it would be done. "Other supplies?" Grant asked.

Haupt stood silent for a moment and seemed to sway. Grant looked
over nervously at Elihu Washburn
e, who sat quietly, unobtrusively, in the corner of the tent. Elihu and Haupt had formed quite a bond over the last month. The way Haupt had stood up to Stanton had won his admiration, along with the wonders he had created in terms of bringing this army together.

Elihu shook his head.

"Perhaps later, General Haupt."

"No, sir. Just a minute more, and then, yes, I think you will have to excuse me."

Haupt took a deep breath, sweat glistening on his face.

"Ammunition. Enough stockpiled now for a strong defensive action but sustainable for only two days at most. Just over one hundred rounds per man in the ranks, two caissons of assorted solid shot, shell, and canister for the field pieces. The "suppliers in New York and Massachusetts are working twenty-four hours a day, and we should be up to the levels you will need in four weeks as well.

"Artillery. You have a hundred and ten pieces with you now, a mix of Napoleons, three-inch ordnance rifles, and Parrotts, two batteries of twenty-pounders, and one battery of thirty-pounders. Again, you should have a hundred more guns in a month."

"Billy Sherman is up to his ears in guns," Ord interjected. "He must have three hundred pieces with him between the guns we left behind and
the ordnance captured at Vicks
burg."

'Too difficult to ship now. I'd rather use the shipping for horses and get the guns from New York," Haupt replied.

"What about all that artillery still down in Mississippi?" Ord asked. "Surely Sherman can't use all of it?"

"I told him, if it's a burden, put what he can on boats to haul north and dump the rest in the Mississippi," Grant replied coolly.

No one spoke. Such a profligate waste of material, perfectly good field guns, shocked none of them anymore. If the guns were dumped, others could be made.

"Rations?" Grant asked.

"That's going ahead of schedule; it's convenient that we are near Philadelphia and New York. Hardtack is almost up to the level to support us for a month in the field, the same with salted pork, coffee, sugar, tobacco, tea. Farmers from as far away as Berks County to the east are driving in herds of cattle and swine; we'll have a good supply of food on the hoof. Medical supplies as well are more than sufficient."

He hesitated for a moment and again seemed to sway.

"I talked with the head of your medical corps this morning. Hospitals sufficient for twenty thousand casualties will be constructed here in Harrisburg. Mostly open-sided sheds and tents to start; bedding is being shipped in; volunteer nurses are being recruited through that Miss Barton that everyone is talking about."

Twenty thousand casualties. No one spoke. Though they were hardened by the campaign for Vicksburg and even Shiloh, the sheer magnitude of so many wounded and sick was still daunting, but after Union Mills, the larger number had to be anticipated.

"Another reason I want the railroad repaired," Grant interjected. "We had hospital boats for our wounded at Vicksburg. Hauling wounded men back on a hundred miles of dirt road would be a nightmare."

"The other supplies—ether, chloroform, morphine, medical tools, stretchers, bandages, splints, crutches—all of it should be in place."

Haupt fell silent and looked over at Grant.

Grant could see that the man was about to have another violent attack.

"General Haupt, you are excused, sir, and please, will you get yourself over to my doctor and then take some rest?"

"Yes, sir," Haupt gasped and, bent over slightly at the waist, he staggered out of the tent.

Grant followed him with his gaze. Over two years of war he had learned to become hard when it came to the using of men. He had looked into the eyes of far too many, knew he was ordering them to their deaths or the destruction of their commands, and then told them to go, never hesitating, never showing sentiment. War had no room for that, no matter what it might do inside his heart. Haupt was valuable, far too valuable to use up, but it was obvious that the dysentery that was tormenting him was beginning to drain his life away. And yet he had to continue to use him rather than order him back to a hospital in the rear. He had tried that once, and the following morning he had found the man in the telegraphy station, dictating orders as fast as four scribes could take them down, his mind some sort of strange calculating machine that could not stop whirling.

Grant looked back to his three corps commanders and the various staff and division commanders gathered around the table.

"I want this army ready to move within a month," he announced.

There were nods of agreement, though he could see that Ord, if given the order to jump into the Susquehanna today, would do so.

"We are constrained, as are all armies, by our supplies. General Haupt is doing his best to see us through."

"And additional men?" Bumside asked. "I am still one division short of a standard corps. I would have liked to have brought along the Twenty-third Corps from my old command in Kentucky."

"I understand, Burnside. I would have preferred it as well, but we have to maintain some kind of force in Kentucky. You will receive an additional division by the end of the month."

"From where, sir?"

Grant hesitated for a brief instant.

"Eight colored regiments, currently being recruited in Ohio, New York, and Pennsylvania, are to report here. They'll be at nearly full strength. That should be six thousand additional men. Do you object?"

He watched Burnside carefully. More than one general would flatly refuse such an offer, even if it meant his command remained under-strength.

"No problem with that at all, sir," Burnside said and then he actually smiled. "Freemen or slaves?"

"Mostly freemen from the North, though we might have a regiment or two of untrained refugees from Maryland. Why?"

"Slaves are used to the toughest work; army life is a picnic in comparison."

"Until the minie
balls start whistling," McPherson interjected.

"Still, I think the black man will prove to be a tough soldier. I'll take 'em."

"Fine then, they're yours. You appoint the division and brigade commanders. Make sure they are of like mind and can inspire these men. I suspect the president will be watching this closely. I don't want these men held back, nor do I want them thrown away as a sacrifice, but they will be expected to fight when the time comes."

As he spoke, he looked over at Elihu, who nodded in agreement

"What about the Nineteenth Corps?" Ord asked.

The men around Ord nodded in agreement and anticipation. Nineteenth Corps was a familiar command to all of them. Though unfortunate to be under General Banks, they had campaigned well farther south on the Mississippi, misused at times by their leader, but good fighting men, nearly all from New England and New York. It was ironic that they, rather than western troops, had wound up on the lower Mississippi, a fate decided by the ability to ship them from northern ports to support Farrugat's naval assault up the river. The men had suffered terribly. For every battle loss, half a dozen were felled by ague or yellow fever. The men were ecstatic to be coming back north again, and would be eager for a fight on familiar terrain rather than the muddy swamps and bayous, which had bedeviled them for over a year.

Even now the convoy bearing them was coming from New Orleans, supposedly to begin docking at Philadelphia in a matter of days. The original command had close to thirty thousand in their ranks; a brigade of infantry, the locally recruited Corps d'Afrique, and some other militia to be left behind to garrison New Orleans. The famed Grierson, commander of their cavalry, a match for Stuart's men, was coming with his brigade as well, to be remounted in Philadelphia once they arrived.

Their arrival would increase his army by over thirty per
cent, giving him four solid corps of combat-experienced troops, all of them used to victory.

'The Nineteenth will fall in on Harrisburg within the week. We have to be careful with all these forces coming from the western theater. I don't want any slacking off over this next month," Grant said, and now his voice was sharp. "I've seen a bit of it already, some of the men swaggering around, lording it over the militia and the ninety-day regiments."

As he spoke, he turned and looked straight at old General Couch, who had come to him repeatedly with the complaint. There were still twenty thousand militia with him in Harrisburg, and the old general wanted to take them into the field, to convince as many as possible to reenlist for the duration of the campaign, or "the current emergency," as he was calling it. A number of fistfights had already broken out between the western veterans and the green recruits from the East. The camp of one Pennsylvania militia regiment had been raided only the night before, the men actually stripped of their uniforms, shoes, rifles, tentage, and choice rations, with the culprits running off into the night, hooting and laughing. The hospital was filled this morning with several dozen cases of broken bones and one man lingering near death with a fractured skull.

"Well," Ord interjected, "the boys have a right to be proud."

Grant glared at Ord. Damn! Ord knew it was his boys and was trying to cover up for them.

"I want an army that is united," Grant snapped. "It's why I left the name Army of the Tennessee behind when we got off the boat at Cairo. This is a new army. Do you understand that, a new army, the Army of the Susquehanna."

Everyone was silent

"Do we understand each other? Any more thievery, any more brawls like last night, and I'll have the culprits bucked and gagged, then drummed out of the army, their regimental commander stripped of rank, and right up to corps someone will pay for it."

No one spoke, even Ord lowered his head, though Couch did smile, but his grin disappeared when Grant caught his eye.

"And by heavens, General Couch, if you can convince your men to sign on for the duration, enough to field another corps, they will march and they will fight like soldiers. I rode past your camp yesterday, and a pig wouldn't live in it. As for your men, if that is how they plan to look and fight, I'll ship every last one of them across to the rebels and have them sign up with Lee. With men like that in his command, it will only help us to win."

Now it was Couch's turn to look crestfallen.

"You have commanded a corps in the field, General Couch. I understand your reasons for resigning because of General Hooker. Given your experience, I expect you to whip your men into shape; militia, ninety-day regiments, I don't care. They are to be turned into soldiers ready to face Hood, Pickett Scales, and Early. You've faced them before, Couch, and I'm asking you now, will your men be able to stand on the volley line a month from now? I know the mettle of the rest of my men, but yours I am not sure of, and by God if they break and we lose this war, I will hold you responsible."

Couch nervously looked around the room, the other three corps commanders all glaring at him. "I will do my best, sir."