The Smoke at Dawn: A Novel of the Civil War (17 page)

“Only that the Yankees have the place in hand.”

“Burnside’s sitting up there, wondering when we’re going to hit him. I expected Burnside to strengthen Rosecrans right here. Scouts reported all kinds of jabbering between those two. Even the Federal War Department is pushing Burnside up his rear end to move down here. Could have turned the tables on you at Chickamauga. But Burnside is Burnside. Unless there’s a superior shouting right into his ear, he’s going to move slow. Right now he may not move at all. In his mind, he conquered Knoxville, so I expect he’ll enjoy that for a while. Rosecrans is still screaming for reinforcements, but so is Burnside. Whoever screams louder keeps Washington’s attention.” He looked at Cleburne now, still no smile. “There’s stupidity on both sides, Patrick. And so, your division will again suffer a long casualty list before it’s over with.”

Cleburne wondered how Hardee had so much information, had to assume that Hardee had cavalry scouts and perhaps even spies scattered all around the Federal armies. He had been commandant of cadets at West Point for several years just prior to the war, and surely,
Cleburne thought, he has young men out there who are still willing to do him favors, no matter what uniform they’re wearing.

After a long moment Hardee said, “So, how are you handling Liddell?”

Cleburne absorbed the question, shrugged. “He’s not happy being back in brigade command. Can’t really speak to that. General Bragg put him in command of his own division, then took it away. Not sure what that was about, but Liddell understands he’s my subordinate again.”

“Keep an eye on him, Patrick. St. John Liddell has serious ambition. He was on my staff, you know, first part of the war. Decent staff officer, decent field officer, to a point. But he thinks he ought to have more, a great deal more. Your other brigades shouldn’t be a problem. Good men, veterans. They’ll do what you tell ’em to. Liddell might try to make a name for himself, do something … independent.”

“I’ve had some conversation with him about General Bragg. We both sided with General Longstreet, the others. But Liddell seemed to back away from that, insisted General Bragg might be the best we have. Challenged me to name someone else to step into the position. I thought of you, of course.”

“Never. Leave my name out of it.”

“Oh, yes, sir. I would never have suggested something like that. Not my place.”

“Yes, but you signed that blamed petition, didn’t you?” Cleburne lowered his head. “This isn’t a democracy, Patrick. You throw in with men who spout off about Bragg, it can’t end well for you.”

“Yes, sir. President Davis told me as much.”

“I know. That was a good sign for you. If Davis didn’t think you were worth the bother, he’d have ignored you, let Bragg toss you in the latrine. You and Polk and Buckner, Hill and Hindman, whoever else he chooses, you could all sit around some parlor in Atlanta and moan about injustice, while Bragg fights this war with lapdog subordinates. You’re not a good enough politician to take sides in a pissing match.”

Cleburne nodded. “That’s what the president said, in a manner of speaking.”

“Good. Just do your job. If we’re to win this thing, we need Bragg
to do his. Not sure that’s going to happen, not with Longstreet on top of that mountain tossing spit at him.”

Cleburne glanced up that way, the crown of Lookout Mountain hidden in a veil of fog.

Hardee said, “Bragg thinks he has the good ground. Thinks the enemy is penned up like so many chickens. That’s going to change, before long. This weather breaks, we’re in for a fight.”

“You think we’ll go down there, hit ’em straight on? They’ve strengthened the defenses. They don’t want us in there, it’ll be a tough go. General Bragg thinks they’ll give up without a fight.”

“They won’t give up at all if they get reinforcements. Washington’s not just going to let Rosecrans hang himself out here. Chattanooga’s too important. They want those railroads as bad as we do, as bad as we need ’em. There’s already buzzing all over the telegraph lines about orders out west, putting people into motion.”

Cleburne wasn’t sure what Hardee meant. “Out west? Who? Maybe they’ll figure Burnside needs help, too, hanging on to Knoxville.”

“We’re not a threat to Burnside. Not yet anyway. But out along the Mississippi River, there’s a whole flock of Federals with not a lot to do. I’m guessing you’ll hear word that Sherman’s been ordered to march this way, maybe McPherson. We’ve got time, but not a lot of it. If this weather hangs across this place, there won’t be any serious fighting. All we can do is sit and wait. The longer we wait, the closer those Yankees will get. I’m betting it’s Sherman.”

Cleburne hadn’t thought of Sherman at all. “He’s … where? Memphis?”

“For now. But we’ve got cavalry watching him. That’s where I spent most of the summer, remember? The railroad’s pretty torn up, but the Yankees have more engineers than we do, and whatever slaves they’ve gathered up will fall in line, help with the labor. One thing we don’t have up here is a wealth of labor. You don’t feed the men decent rations, you can’t expect them to do any serious work. Not sure why Bragg hasn’t pushed hard to get the commissary wagons out here where we need ’em. I’ll jab him about that. He won’t like it, but he knows I’m right.”

Cleburne looked out to the side, along the wide ridgeline, saw men working with shovels, more men down below, toward the flatter
ground. “We’re trying, making do. My men are pretty sore about the lack of rations. But General Bragg, his staff officers, they keep pushing the men with how much the Yankees are suffering. If General Bragg’s right, we’re in a lot better shape than they are. Time ought to be on our side.”

Hardee looked at him. “When was the last time you knew General Bragg to be
right
? No, don’t answer that. You got yourself in enough Dutch already. He’s our commanding general, and we’ll follow him straight to the gates of hell, if he tells us to.” Hardee paused. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, anyway. But if Bragg’s wrong about how long it’ll take those Yankees to starve to death … well, the gates of hell might not be too far from where we’re sitting right now.”

The leg was killing him, a relentless ache that had kept him on crutches now for weeks. The fall had come at New Orleans, a nasty horse someone had loaned him, the animal doing its best to show Grant who was really in charge. The fall had been brutal, knocking him unconscious, his only real memory of that a gathering of scowling doctors hovering over his bed. He hated the crutches, his underarms as sore as the lingering effects of the bruise all along his side. But Julia insisted, backed up by the orders from the doctors. No matter Grant’s rank or authority over a hundred thousand men, he knew better than to disobey his wife.

He hobbled his way along the corridor of the railcar, flinched with every step, reached his compartment, the door closed, heard her voice, some conversation about hotel rooms. He rapped one end of the crutch against the door, announcing himself, the door opening quickly, the efficiency of his chief of staff, John Rawlins.

“Welcome back, General. Were you able to … manage?”

“If I ever require you to assist me in the latrine, Mr. Rawlins, you shall know before anyone else.” He saw Julia now, caught her glare of
disapproval. Grant let out a breath, said, “My apologies. My patience is at a low ebb these days.”

“Apologies not necessary, sir. Mrs. Grant and I were just discussing the accommodations we are expecting to find in Louisville.”

Grant shrugged. “The telegram said the Galt House. I’m sure whatever they offer us will be fine. If there’s a bed, I’m happy.”

“Now, Ulyss,” Julia said, “you be gracious to General Rawlins. He goes to great lengths to look after you. Someone has to, when I’m not about. Just look at you. Your shirt is dirty.”

Grant nodded in resignation, saw Rawlins step forward, a brief hesitation, then a quick wipe at a smudge on his collar.

“Get away from me! When I feel the need to change uniforms, I shall inform you. Should I do it in the latrine, you can have double duty.”

“Ulyss!”

He knew her tone, that there would be a stern lecture now, once Rawlins had retired. Rawlins seemed to know it as well, made a short bow.

“I shall leave you, with your permission, sir. Anything you require …”

“Yes, I know. I’ll belch in your general direction.”

“Ulysses S. Grant!”

He closed his eyes, his mind filling with apologies, knew what it meant when she used his full name. There would be little peace anywhere she made her headquarters. Rawlins was slipping out the doorway, stopped, expecting Grant to require something else. It was Rawlins’s way, always had been, the man ever anxious to sweep through any task that surrounded Grant’s command. Grant hobbled toward the bench seat, said, “Leave, Mr. Rawlins. There’s a storm brewing here, and I shall absorb the brunt of it.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Rawlins was quickly out, closed the compartment door behind Grant.

“Ulyss, why must you be so disagreeable? He is only doing his job, and you need his every effort. Just look at you … your hands are dirty. Even your crutches …”

“Yes, dear. It has been a tiresome day. And once we reach Louisville, it will be tiresome still.”

“Do you know yet who we are meeting?”

The
we
caught his attention, Julia always hoping that any gathering he was called upon to attend would be more of a social affair than something military. He turned, leaned on the crutches, dropped himself down to the seat with a dull groan. She stood with her hands on her hips, shook her head.

“I could help you, you know. If you weren’t so stubborn.”

“My dear, I don’t need your help, really. As for General Rawlins, he provides me all the assistance anyone could ask for, and a good deal more that I don’t ask for. He’s my mother, your mother, and you, all in one.”

He knew immediately he had made a mistake. She turned away in cold silence, her arms crossed, stared out the train window. He struggled to say something that would help, had learned long ago that the effort would likely make matters worse. He tried to soften his voice, add a lilt of affection.

“My dear, I don’t know who is meeting with us. All I know is what Halleck’s telegram said. They want me in Louisville to meet with an officer of the War Department. Things are … messy these days. I have to assume they want me to help clean it up.”

“They should be using you more efficiently. Memphis is horrid, a terrible place. No better than Vicksburg. And Cairo … my word, Ulyss, could anyone ever suggest you make your headquarters in such a place?”

He knew better, that every hint the War Department had given pointed to some place for him much closer to the crisis in Tennessee. He kept his silence, felt the train slowing, and he could see buildings, homes, a general store. He peered out past her, said, “Indianapolis. Train will take on water, or wood, or whatever trains require. No one ever said I should command a railroad.”

He heard shouts from the platform, could see movement, a man rushing through the small crowd. In a few seconds, there was a hard rap on the door. Julia turned, moved that way, and Grant felt a stab of alarm, held up his hand, “No.” It was a signal she understood, a sternness
to his voice when the army got in the way. Grant pulled one crutch close to him, a potential weapon, and she watched him, her face reflecting his concern. “Stand away from the door, please, Julia. I’m not expecting a visitor.”

He forced himself up from the padded bench, the rap on the door coming again, more insistent, and now a voice, Rawlins.

“Sir! Most urgent, sir!”

Grant felt relief, knew Rawlins wouldn’t be there unless it was necessary. “You may enter, General.”

The door opened, to Rawlins and another man, nervous, out of breath, a civilian. Rawlins seemed annoyed, said, “Sir, this man says he is from the War Department, and that it is imperative the train hold here at the station.”

Grant looked at the man and said, “I’d like to hear it from you, sir. You have something for me?”

The man was young, short, small frame, held a hat in both hands. He made a short bow toward Julia, then said, “Sir, if I may speak in front of … um … the lady.”

“Speak, sir. What is it?”

“General Grant, I am to inform you that another train, a special train, is just now arriving at the station here. You are to await its passenger. He shall meet with you presently, and possibly accompany you on your journey to Louisville.”

Rawlins stepped in, as though shielding Grant from the man’s intrusion.

“This man knows details of your itinerary, sir. It is possible that he is telling the truth. However, I wouldn’t take him solely at his word. Should he be found to carry false information, I shall have him detained.”

Grant sagged. “General, I detect no subversion here. Sir, in the interest of relieving my chief of staff’s concerns, are you a spy? An assassin perhaps?”

The man’s eyes widened, and Grant saw far more indignation than fear. The young man seemed to puff up, a distinct air of haughtiness.

“Most certainly not, sir. My name is Heathcliff Baker. I am here under official orders, with the full authority of the secretary of war.”