Stonewall Goes West: A Novel of The Civil War and What Might Have Been (Stonewall Goes West Trilogy) (7 page)

Davis’s thoughts were interrupted by his arrival at the Executive Mansion, a white, stuccoed building in the neoclassical style. He handed his horse over to the groom, and was met at the door by his private secretary, Burton Harrison.

“Mr. President, Secretary Benjamin is here to see you. He has been waiting more than half an hour. I know he doesn’t have an appointment, but he said it was urgent and that he would wait for your return.”

Davis nodded. “I’ll see him in my office. Wait 10 minutes and then bring him up.” Even though he longed to see Varina and the children after such a long, tiresome day, Davis went straight to his office, where a plush chair for Benjamin was already set up before his desk. He inspected and straightened his clothes, sat down behind his desk, assumed a severe pose, and waited for his Secretary of State.

Benjamin, a plump, round-faced man with the happy, ruddy features common to men of that build, was shown in. He was the most loyal member of Davis’s government, which was part of why Benjamin had survived so many tribulations as Attorney General, Secretary of War and now Secretary of State. The other part was his imperturbability and thick, leathery skin, two virtues essential to the fortunes of anyone born as a Jew in the British Caribbean and making his way in the politics of the South.

Davis greeted him by leaping from behind his desk to shake his hand, but still addressed him as “Secretary Benjamin” before inviting him to sit down.

Benjamin sat, laying his slender, gold-handled cane across his lap. He was accustomed to Davis’s peculiar mixture of the generous and amiable on the one hand, and the stiffly formal on the other.

Davis started. “I had assumed I would be seeing you, Mr. Secretary, although perhaps not so soon. It is most unusual for you to remain so silent in Cabinet.”

Judah smiled. “Mr. President, I wanted to consider this business more carefully before I offered my opinion to you. Also, I believe what I am about to propose might strike some as a sensational, perhaps even controversial act, and wished to take precautions and ensure it did not appear prematurely in the papers.”

“I take it you have a proposal to make for replacing General Bragg, then?”

“Yes, and I think it is the only option, both viable and palatable to us: Thomas J. Jackson.”

Davis remained composed and reticent, although he was surprised to hear this coming from Benjamin. “I had considered Jackson already, and discounted him for two reasons. First, he is clearly ranked by both Generals Longstreet and Kirby Smith, and some others probably think they outrank him, including some very senior men out West. Vaulting Jackson over all those heads will surely cause some resentment and dissension, and I think we have already had enough of that in the West. Furthermore, Jackson has the reputation for being at least as secretive as Johnston, and at least as difficult to work with as Bragg. You remember Romney, do you not?”

How could I forget? Benjamin thought. Jackson planned and led a minor-but-successful expedition into the mountains of western Virginia in November 1861. Afterward, he left his senior subordinate, one W. W. Loring, to garrison the town of Romney in winter quarters. Loring didn’t care for being left in Romney or for serving under Jackson, and promptly circumvented Jackson by writing to Benjamin, complaining that his men were suffering badly in the icy weather and should be withdrawn.

Benjamin brought the matter to Davis, who agreed, and Benjamin ordered Jackson to withdraw Loring, a stupid blunder as Benjamin now freely admitted. That was because while Stonewall obeyed, he also tendered his resignation, sparking a major political flap.

“I remember it all too well, Mr. President, because I stumbled quite badly and brought on the whole thing.” Of course, he had done no such thing. Davis had made that decision, just as he made so many of even the most picayune decisions of the War Department, but Benjamin had fallen on his sword in that instance, and was not about to pull himself back off that sword now. “In retrospect, I think that if proper channels had been strictly followed, that unpleasant incident would never have happened.”

He suspected Davis gave the order because the President knew Loring better than he did Jackson, having made Loring a colonel in the old United States Army during his tenure as the U.S. Secretary of War. Davis often made such decisions on the basis of personal relationships, which explained why an incompetent schemer like Leonidas Polk was in command of Mississippi and Alabama, among others.

All of this was before the spring of 1862 and Jackson’s prodigious feats in the Shenandoah Valley. They had no idea Jackson would prove a genius and become a national hero, while Loring would turn out to be a very ordinary division commander.

Benjamin continued “I can hardly blame a man for standing on principle. Can you, Mr. President?”

Davis said unthinkingly “Of course not,” conveniently ignoring that he routinely questioned the motives of everyone and anyone who disagreed with his own principles.

“As for the personal frictions besetting our western army, perhaps the best way to rise above them is to appoint an outside man, a man with a clean slate. Even were that not the case, Mr. President, it is my firm and considered opinion that Thomas Jackson is, after Robert E. Lee, our best general. That is the only consideration that matters. Do you doubt that Jackson will give us victories where Johnston or Beauregard would not?”

“No, I do not doubt it,” Davis admitted.

“Then he should be given the job. With the support of this government and the Southern people, Jackson will give us our best chance for sustaining the independence that is ours by right.” Judah paused, and then added “And he cannot help but enjoy the support of our people, Mr. President. Is he not the most venerated officer in the army, the equal of General Lee in the popular imagination? You remember how the entire nation held its breath after his wounding?”

Davis replied “Yes, of course I do.” Benjamin had a point, there was no denying it. Jackson was, after Lee, the only other proven field commander the country had. Yet promoting him meant setting aside all notions of seniority, and officers in general were very touchy about matters of rank and seniority. But it wasn’t as if promotion on the basis of merit was illegal, unprecedented or unwarranted.

Davis turned his chair away from Benjamin, clasped his hands under his chin, and thought it over. His enemies in the Congress would begin agitating for the appointment of either Johnston or Beauregard as soon as Congress reconvened on Monday, December 7. Newspapers critical of his government were already printing such tripe, seasoned richly with invective directed against him personally. The promotion and appointment of Jackson was sure to be so popular with the people, no one in the Congress would dare to oppose it. Especially if he submitted Jackson’s name on Monday, by surprise, before his chorus of critics could choreograph their carping.

In fact, he reasoned, there might be an opportunity to accomplish something more here. “What if I go beyond merely making Jackson head of the Army of Tennessee? What if I reorganize Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama and the bulk of Georgia into a ‘Department of the Center,’ so to speak, and name Jackson to its head? Something like what Washington did for their General Grant, putting all the middle of the country under one man?”

Benjamin saw at once what Davis meant. “You intend to reorganize General Johnston out of his job?”

Davis smiled. A twinkle appeared in Davis’s eyes, even the blind, filmy one. The malice of it almost made Benjamin shift in his chair, despite himself. “I have no intention of removing General Johnston, but he has often complained that his command in the West is impractical for one man. In my opinion, his poor performance vindicates that view, and I therefore propose, Secretary Benjamin, to lighten his burdens.”

“And what if Congress balks at leaving Johnston shorn so?” Benjamin chuckled. “He has many supporters.”

Indeed he does, Davis thought. My critics and Johnston’s supporters seemed to always be the same people. “I’ll make this a question of standing either for or against Jackson. Can you imagine anyone in the Congress daring to vote against the elevation of Stonewall Jackson? And I won’t give them the time to introduce an alternative bill. This is war, and the Army of the Tennessee needs a permanent commander as soon as possible. I’ll horsewhip any opposition with the urgency of the matter.”

Benjamin nodded. He had suspected that Davis had already considered Jackson, but needed a little persuading to work his way through the bureaucratic legalisms the President so often entangled himself in. He had not, however, thought about using Jackson to settle scores with the administration’s enemies, but that worked just as well. Johnston would give up the whole country in retreat were he given a free hand to do so. The sooner he was shelved, the better.

“Then, Mr. President, I suggest we dispatch a confidential messenger to the Army of Northern Virginia at once.”

Davis replied “Yes. Assuming he accepts the promotion, I will reconvene the Cabinet on Sunday, put the matter to them as a formality, and submit Jackson’s name to the Congress on Monday morning.”

December 3

Evening

Lee’s Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia, CSA

Winter Quarters, Orange County Virginia

Jackson ducked under the tent flap and entered Lee’s headquarters. He was surprised to find there not only Lee, but also Lee’s eldest son, George Washington Custis Lee. A brigadier general at 31, George Lee served as a top military aide to President Davis. So, whatever this was about, Jackson knew it came from Richmond, not army headquarters.

Jackson snapped a salute. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”

“At ease. Thank you for coming, General,” Lee replied. “General Lee has something to tell you. From the President.”

A stickler for discipline and protocol though he was, Jackson wondered if he could ever be as formal, pleasant but formal nonetheless, with his own offspring as Lee was.

George Lee showed he had not fallen far from the tree, by saying “Thank you, sir.”

Turning to Jackson, he said “General Thomas J. Jackson, I have the honor of informing you that our President, Jefferson Davis, wishes you to accept promotion to the rank of full general, and assignment as the commander of the Army of Tennessee, now positioned in Dalton, Georgia.”

Jackson blinked. He slowly extended his right hand to accept the letter proffered by George Lee. After an awkward pause, Jackson said “What of General Johnston? General Beauregard? Surely they...”

George Lee answered “The President feels that you are best qualified to take this command, General Jackson.”

Jackson was numb. It was no secret the President’s relations with Beauregard and Johnston were poisoned. Even so, Jackson had thought the command would naturally go to one of them. The possibility of it being offered to him had never occurred to him.

Jackson said quietly “I... I accept.”

Lee, still seated behind his camp table, looked down. He knew Jackson as endowed with a modest, dutiful nature, but also with industrious ambition. There had never been any doubt in his mind that the offer would take Jackson by surprise, just as he himself was unsurprised by Jackson’s acceptance.

Still, Lee felt slightly displeased, although he did not show it. Half-expect Jackson’s promotion though he did, Lee had not wanted to hear of it. It meant the loss of one of his best lieutenants.

George Lee, on the other hand, smiled brightly with an assignment successfully completed. “Very good, General Jackson. I am to instruct you, on behalf of the President, that nothing is to be said of this matter by either yourself or General Lee until the promotion and appointment become official. The bill will be placed before Congress on Monday morning.”

Lee stood up. “Now, General Lee, I have business to discuss with General Jackson. But if you would be so kind as to wait, and return when we are finished? Perhaps we could have supper together?”

“Of course, sir.” George Lee saluted and left.

Lee said quietly “Please, sit down.” After a pause, he added “May I call you Thomas?”

This was another surprise, although not as shocking as the offer of promotion and command. Lee rarely referred to anyone in the army by their Christian name, even in private. Even Jackson referred to his subordinates in given, informal terms more often than Lee did.

After Jackson assented, Lee said “Well then, Thomas, may I offer you my warmest and most sincere congratulations on this happy occasion? You have achieved a signal accomplishment in your career, and I can think of no officer in Confederate service who deserves it more.”

Jackson blushed and stammered “Thank you, sir.” After a pause, he continued “It has always been my pleasure to serve.”

Lee nodded, and asked softly “When you were wounded at Chancellorsville, do you recall the message I sent? That while you had lost your left arm, I had lost my right?”

Jackson reddened. “Sir, I believe we have won victories through the grace of divine Providence. It was Providence that saw fit to give us you as our leader in our time of need. What part I have played in that has merely been as a lesser instrument.”

“God favors our cause and graces us with victories, yes,” Lee agreed, “but your role has not been so small as that. The good Lord blesses us each with our own talents, and yours have always been especially well-suited to command. May I give you some advice?”

Jackson replied earnestly, “I am honored, sir.”

Lee spoke slowly. “The President has sometimes suggested to me that I assume command of our western army. I have always refused, for a variety of reasons. One is I believe I would not receive the cooperation of the officers there. We have always been a proud, spirited people, Thomas, but that is at least as much a burden as it is to our benefit. As many of our people are cursed with hot tempers and an empty, prideful stubbornness as are blessed with courage, dignity and those other virtues belonging to a true gentleman. And greed is far from being solely a sin of the Northern man.”