The Smoke at Dawn: A Novel of the Civil War (8 page)

“Are we certain they did that much damage to the wagon train?”

“Four couriers made it out, George. Four. Same report. The smoke from what they left behind was visible on the ridges to the west. What do we do now? How do we feed the men? I will order three-quarter rations in the morning. That will help. Or perhaps half rations. I must speak to General Meigs. He might know of some means of securing another train. Surely there will be more supplies.”

Dana said softly, “And more rebel cavalry.”

Dana moved to the door, looked back at Thomas. “I will do as you ask, sir. I will send nothing of this on the wire yet. By morning we will know our situation with more clarity.”

Thomas nodded, waved him away, the pains in his back pulling Thomas down into the soft chair. He looked at Rosecrans, the man’s face in his hands again, heard words, soft, pleading. It was a prayer. Thomas looked toward the fire, thought, Yes, pray all you must, Rosy. I’m quite sure that somewhere out there, Bragg is saying a prayer of his own.

Bragg’s dislike and distrust of his subordinates had begun to boil over. No one disputed that Chickamauga had been a resounding Confederate victory, but Bragg was hearing a growling sentiment throughout his command that another victory had been squandered, the enemy allowed to turn the tide, or escape from what might have become complete destruction. Bragg had known of that criticism as far back as the vicious fight at Murfreesboro the first of the year, noisy rebukes drifting toward him from several of his generals, Leonidas Polk in particular. Polk had been outspoken in the extreme against Bragg, a lack of respect that Bragg took as outright defiance. As the voices flowed back to Bragg’s headquarters, Polk’s voice seemed most grating of all. But Bragg finally found a way of striking back. On September 20, the climactic day’s fight at Chickamauga, Polk had failed to push forward the attack as Bragg had ordered. On September 29, after Polk had failed to adequately respond to Bragg’s criticisms, Bragg ordered him suspended from command. Polk was ordered to remove himself from the army and retire to Atlanta.

Leonidas Polk was an Episcopal bishop from Louisiana, held the
respect of nearly every commander in the army, and had been a special favorite of Albert Sidney Johnston. Worse for Bragg, Polk was extremely close to Jefferson Davis. Davis responded to Bragg’s order by pointing out to Bragg that suspending Polk meant that Polk would have to be tried for the alleged crimes Bragg had accused him of, a process that the president made clear he was not likely to pursue. Bragg had to be satisfied merely to have Polk elsewhere. But there had to be a replacement, someone of equivalent rank and experience, and the most logical choice was General William Hardee, who had served alongside Bragg at Shiloh. Hardee was highly respected as a battlefield commander, even more so than Polk. Bragg could not dispute the logic of Hardee’s selection, despite the fact that Bragg despised Hardee almost as much as he did Polk. To Bragg, President Davis’s “solution” was a poor compromise, but one he had to accept.

Polk had no choice but to obey Bragg’s order, and he immediately relocated his headquarters to Atlanta, but his own campaign against Bragg continued. There were vitriolic letters to his friend Davis, to others in Richmond, and an ongoing communication between Polk and several of the other senior officers now entrenched around Chattanooga, including Longstreet. Though Bragg had purged his army of one significant enemy, a tempest continued to build around him.

“I do not have a copy of the petition, sir. It would have been unwise for me to attempt to procure one, not having affixed my own signature. But its meaning requires no special interpretation. Please understand, sir, that I come here knowing that it is inappropriate for an officer of my subordinate rank to bypass my own commanding officer.”

Bragg waited for more, had heard only fragments of gossip about the document General Liddell was now revealing to him. He didn’t completely trust Liddell, knew that Liddell had been one of those noisy annoyances from the field, speaking out against Bragg’s decisions during several engagements. Bragg had little regard for brigade
commanders who assumed to know more than their commanding general. But still … Liddell was here now. And the message he was offering to Bragg might be placing Liddell in a compromised situation within his own command. At the very least, Bragg was intrigued by the courage, or the backhandedness required for Liddell to address him at all.

“Is it not true, Mr. Liddell, that you have been a critic of mine in the past? Have you not done your own share of spouting out? Now you tell me others are doing the same, and you come here … why? From a sense of outrage?”

Liddell seemed to understand his predicament, chose his words carefully. “Sir, I admit that I have often disagreed with your command decisions, or your methods of maneuver. I have however been discreet within the bounds of my station. My concern is that others … including many who outrank me … are not so discreet. There are boundaries of protocol. Those boundaries are being grossly violated.”

Bragg stared at Liddell with a hard scowl, waited for more, could see that the man was extremely uncomfortable. “You said a petition. Who signed it?”

Liddell looked down. “I did not, sir.”

“I assumed that you are not both indiscreet and stupid, General. If your signature was on that petition, you wouldn’t be here, correct? You’d be out there, scurrying about your headquarters like the other rats who claim to support this
vessel
of an army, all the while abandoning it.”

“I cannot recall every name, sir. Numerous officers were present. Most all outranked me, though there were some regimental commanders who signed as well.”

“Longstreet?”

“Yes, sir. Most definitely.”

That was no surprise to Bragg. Any petition condemning Bragg that was being circulated through his command would most likely originate with Longstreet.

“What does it say, precisely? As precisely as you can recall.”

“I … prefer not to attempt to quote such seditiousness, sir. Suffice to say that a dozen or more general officers in this army have petitioned
President Davis to remove you from command. Your abilities are being soundly dismissed. Must I say more?”

“Hill? Buckner? Breckinridge?”

Liddell took a long breath. “I believe so, sir. Cleburne, Randall, Preston. No, not Breckinridge.”

“No, of course not. Ever the politician. One’s name on a piece of paper can’t be so easily denied should that piece of paper one day become inconvenient. But, General, tell me, why is your signature not on that piece of paper? I am well aware of your lack of respect for this chair.”

Liddell seemed to ponder the question. “Sir, I have revealed to you the details of a subject which has caused me, and will cause this entire army, considerable anxiety. My own feelings are well known within my own camp, and no further. Two weeks ago, the fruits of victory were right before us. All we had to do was grab them. I believe an opportunity was lost. But I would not voice that opinion to any public forum. It is unbecoming an officer. I was outraged that these men would be so blatant in their efforts to remove you from command. It is no less than an act of mutiny.”

“And by that you are outraged. And you would perform an act of indiscretion by approaching me directly to let me know just how outraged you are. You, who have been quick to question my decisions, who may perhaps believe with those others, that I am not fit to command this army.”

“I would not sign, sir. I would not go so far as to question your abilities for command.”

“Go as far as you wish, General Liddell. By signing this ridiculous petition, my enemies have made themselves known to me. They have revealed their cards, as it were. But I am not concerned by this. Not at all. For every critic, I have a voice of authority who speaks out on my behalf. Already I have received the heartiest congratulations for my success from Joe Johnston, from General Lee, from a great many of those loyal to me in Richmond. This kind of chicanery cannot be tolerated, and it will not be tolerated. Leave me, General. The pretense of your loyalty is noted, as is your lack of decorum, and your unwillingness to document what you say.”

Liddell hesitated, said, “Sir, before I leave this office, I must mention
that there are others who would not be a party to this scheme. Not every general officer in this army is so eager to express their disloyalty, or demonstrate such flagrant disrespect. It would be an error on your part to assume such.”

“It is a little late for you to kneel down, General.”

“Sir, I only …”

Liddell stopped, seemed to run out of words. He made a short bow, marched noisily from the office. Bragg felt his heart racing, ran the names through his head, the faces of Longstreet, Buckner, Cleburne, thought, They would test my resolve? They would urge the president to remove me, after such successes as we have had? They have made a serious tactical error, one that will cost them dearly.

Mackall was in the doorway, said, “Excuse me, sir. It was impossible not to hear General Liddell’s report. If I may inquire, sir, what are you going to do?”

Bragg felt energized, the familiar ailments swept away. He looked out toward the open ground beyond the Nail House, the rain blowing past in a steady torrent, several days of that now. He heard a distant thump of thunder, and Mackall looked that way, said, “It is just the storm, sir. There is no movement, no activity.”

“Oh, there is activity aplenty. They wish a war, they shall have a war.”

Mackall started to protest, then stopped, seemed to understand what Bragg was saying. “Sir, if I might offer, with deepest respects—”

“Later. There is much to be done. Plans to be made, correspondence to be sent. Have the secretary prepared with pen and paper. I must think about this, put into words the best strategy.”

“You are not speaking of the Yankees.”

Bragg made a small laugh, as much joviality as he permitted himself. “I am speaking of the
enemy
, Mr. Mackall. We have a war, and I mean to fight it. President Davis will expect something from me very quickly. I must not hesitate.”

Mackall said nothing, stared at him for a long moment.

“Be selective with your comments, Mr. Mackall. I might assume you to be among the conspirators.”

Mackall waited, then said softly, “Does this affair, this confrontation with your subordinates … bring you joy?”

Bragg was surprised by the question, thought a moment. “There is never joy in disloyalty. I did not ask for this controversy, but I will confront it. Those who dismiss my willingness to fight shall pay for their mistake.”

“I know of no one in this army who questions your fight, sir.”

“I suppose I should thank you for your blindness. No good, Mr. Mackall. I am like the serpent who has been tread upon. I will rise up and smite my enemies.”

“You’re referring to your own commanders, sir. No one is your enemy. They are critical, they have different opinions of what we must do. They are impatient. They seek to correct errors. If we devote too much energy to this kind of squabble, it can only harm us, harm our cause.”

“This is far from a squabble. There is great danger from those who oppose this command, who would seek to remove me from this office at the moment of a great triumph.” Bragg tilted his head, examined Mackall’s stoic expression, had grown weary of that. “Have you nothing to add, Mr. Mackall? Do you not see opportunity here? Finally, I may rid the army of those who seek to defeat us.”

Mackall turned away, then paused, stood in the doorway, said in a soft voice, “What of the Yankees? We must put our attentions there.”

“The Yankees are of little concern right now. This rain could last for days, and with every creek overflowing and every road a sea of mud, there will be little activity on the front lines. Would you at least agree with that?”

“They have thus far shown no activity in our direction, sir.”

“And they will not. Not while we have the good ground. They are content to cower behind their defenses, and even now, they must be contemplating their own starvation.”

Mackall looked his way again. “If that is true, surely we can expect them to act. They will not just sit still while they exhaust their rations.”

“Then they will leave. Either way, our victory is secure. Do not talk to me of such details, Mr. Mackall. You may choose to support my efforts, or you may resign from my service. Those are your options.”

Mackall looked down, and Bragg saw a glimmer of despair on the man’s face, felt a surge of relief from that. Yes, he is loyal. He does not
stand up like some rooster and defy me. “Go on, Mr. Mackall. You have your duty.”

Mackall nodded. “I shall bring the secretary … when you order it.”

Word of Joe Wheeler’s October 3 cavalry raid on the Federal wagon train had come back to Bragg’s headquarters in a rush of celebration. With a long stretch of the Tennessee River useless to Federal boat traffic, the only supply route that Rosecrans’s commissary officers could use came over the mountains, the kind of ragged narrow passageway that was difficult for horses and wagons even in good weather. If his siege was not a complete encirclement of the Federal camps, Bragg had confidence that this single lifeline left to the enemy was woefully inadequate to supply their needs. Wheeler’s resounding success in crushing the Federal supply train seemed to Bragg to be one more nail in Rosecrans’s coffin. More important to Wheeler, who had a simmering dislike of the more flamboyant Nathan Bedford Forrest, Bragg allowed himself to be convinced that Forrest was simply ineffective, Wheeler persuading Bragg that Forrest should be ordered to give up most of his strength, and transfer those horsemen directly to Wheeler. In effect, Bragg had elevated Joe Wheeler to overall command of the cavalry throughout this entire theater of the war.