- 02 Feb 2022 13:16
#15210021
February 3, Wednesday
At Vicksburg, General Sherman has spent the last two days making certain that everything is in order for his march on Meridian, which will necessarily be made without a base of supplies, and assessing the latest intelligence from spies beyond the lines. Polk by now has shifted his headquarters westward across the Tombigbee, from Demopolis to Meridian, and has posted his two divisions at Canton and Brandon, under Loring and Sam French, twenty miles north and twelve miles east of Jackson, while his cavalry, under Stephen Lee, is patroling the region between the Pearl and the Big Black. Far from alarmed by this, Sherman is pleased to find his adversaries nearer than he had supposed; they number barely half his strength, with 28 guns opposing 67 in the blue column, and the sooner he comes to grips with them, the sooner they will be disposed of as a possible deterrent to his eastward progress and the destruction of everything of value in his path. Intending to move light, without tents or baggage, even for corps commanders or himself, he has prescribed a minimum of equipment—“The expedition is one of celerity, and all things must tend to that”—but, even so, the twenty-day supply of such essentials as hardtack, salt, and coffee, together with ammunition and medical stores, require a 1,000-wagon train.
Today, having assured himself that all is as he has required, Sherman passes the order that puts his four divisions in motion for the Big Black River, one third of the way to Jackson, which in turn is one third of the way to Meridian, where W. Sooy Smith is to join him for the march on Selma, another hundred miles along the railroad he plans to follow all the way. The march is in two columns, a corps in each, and so rapid that by nightfall both are over the river, trains and all, covering mile after eastward mile of ground for which they fought last May, while headed in the opposite direction. Now as then, the weather is bright, the roads firm, and the soldiers in high spirits.
One of the people that quickly learns that Sherman is moving is General Forrest. His training of his new, less than reliable troops has been in progress for barely a month when he receives words at his headquarters, north of Panola, that Sherman is on the march from Vicksburg, 150 miles to the south, evidently intending to strike at Meridian and possibly also at Selma or Mobile.
Polk also quickly learns of Sherman’s approach, but his concerns encompass more than Meridian, or even Demopolis and Selma, but also Mobile, a far greater prize than any of the others in his care. His fears for the Confederacy’s only remaining Gulf port east of the Mississippi has been enlarged since late January when Farragut—who has just returned from a New York holiday, taken while the Hartford was being refitted in the Brooklyn Navy Yard—appeared before the place with a squadron of multigunned warships, evidently intending to launch another of his all-out attacks, not one of which has ever failed with him on hand to see that it is pressed to the required extremity. In point of fact, the admiral is only there to heighten Polk’s fears for the loss of the port and to discourage him from drawing reinforcements from its garrison when Sherman begins his march. There is no need to attack; he accomplishes his purpose mearly by his month-long presence outside the bay, and gains in the process much valuable information which he intends to put to substantial use for his planned return, not for a feint or diversion, but in earnest. As a result, now that Sherman has set out from Vicksburg, Polk is convinced that his goal is Mobile and that what is intended is a combined assault, by land and water, designed to remove that vital port from the list of the South’s assets in continuing its struggle to maintain its national existence. Outnumbered two to one, or worse, the bishop calls loudly on Richmond for assistance, and Richmond passes his appeal to Johnston, the only possible source of reinforcements in a hurry.
Johnston, since his arrival at Dalton after replacing General Bragg as commander of the Army of Tennessee a month ago, has had his own work cut out for him. His army depends on supply by rail—specifically, the Western & Atlantic Railroad from Atlanta. The area around Dalton has few farms; it is a mountainous, river-laced wilderness. And Johnston doesn’t have the authority to seize control of his lifeline. The State of Georgia owns the Western & Atlantic; because of mismanagement and the shortage of rolling stock, a single trainload of supplies sometimes takes up to 36 hours to move over the 85-mile run from Atlanta to Dalton.
But Johnston has faced problems bigger than logistics. When he took command, he found a demoralized army of about 43,000 men. The army had been so shattered by the losses at Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge that soldiers were deserting by the thousands. The lack of manpower was so desperate that just a few days after Johnston’s arrival in Dalton one of his most respected commanders, Major General Patrick Cleburne, submitted a startling proposal signed by thirteen of his brigade and regimental officers. In order to gain thousands of new recruits, Cleburne suggested, the Confederacy ought to enlist slaves as soldiers and reward them with emancipation. The very idea shocked Johnston and most of his subordinate generals. One officer, apparently with an eye to discrediting Cleburne, forwarded a copy of the proposal to the government at Richmond. President Davis thereupon so effectively suppressed all traces of Cleburne’s document that it won’t surface again until 1890.
Johnston brings impressive credentials to the difficulties of his new command, but his advantage is that he looks and acts like a leader. He is in his mid-50s, compactly built, with a gray goatee and closely cropped side whiskers. His quiet good manners and his jaunty appearance have made an immediate impression on the troops. To deal with the problem of desertions, Johnston adopts a carrot-and-stick approach. He proclaims a general amnesty for deserters who agree to return to the ranks, and to help prevent further unauthorized absences he starts a program of furloughs that enables every man to go home for a brief period. But Johnston also makes terrible examples of incorrigible offenders: He stands them up at the foot of freshly dug graves and has them shot in front of the entire army. Johnston also watches out for his soldiers’ welfare. He somehow manages to provide shoes, extra food, and a ration of whiskey and tobacco twice a week for the troops; in turn they idolize him, referring to him reverently as “Old Joe.”
Johnston organizes his seven infantry divisions into two corps. One is led by Lieutenant General William J. Hardee, the veteran commander who, at 48, has been rejuvenated by a recent marriage to a delicate Alabama beauty who is young enough to be his daughter. The other corps goes to a new arrival—the celebrated and badly crippled John Bell Hood, whose left arm was shattered at Gettysburg and whose right leg was lost at Chickamauga. Hood joins Johnston this month fresh from a long convalescence in Richmond, where he was lionized and promoted—at the age of 32—to lieutenant general. Johnston and his corps commanders put the army through intensive and sometimes innovative training. Patrick Cleburne has a log cabin built and conducts classes in tactics there for his brigade commanders, who instruct regimental officers, who in turn teach company commanders. Johnston’s cavalry chief, Major General Joe Wheeler, drills his horsemen in the art of charging an infantry line: He lines up dummies made of old clothes stuffed with straw and then has his troopers charge at full speed, sabers held high, all the while under fire from blank cartridges. Together with Hardee and Hood, Johnston repeatedly reviews the army on parade. Hundreds of spectators ride up from Atlanta to watch these parades and to witness exciting sham battles that pit division against division.
In a light action at Liverpool Heights on the Yazoo River, Federal gunboats silence enemy batteries. In Louisiana a Union expedition operates from Brashear City through the 6th; and on the Kanawha River of West Virginia, Confederates capture the steamer Levi.
President Davis calls the attention of the Confederate Congress to the fact that “discontent, disaffection, and disloyalty” are often manifested among those who “have enjoyed quiet and safety at home.” He recommends suspension of the privilege of the writ of habeus corpus as a “sharp remedy” but one necessary to combat the evils of spying, desertion, associating with the enemy, and disloyal gatherings and activities.
Society cannot exist, unless a controlling power upon will and appetite be placed somewhere; and the less of it there is within, the more there must be without.
—Edmund Burke