And, Cardigan thought, such an effort would not only bring him glory, but would also get Viscount Monck off his back. Monck's mewing about the displaced people of Ontario had reached a sickening crescendo. In point of fact, relatively few people had been displaced. Most had remained where they lived or had returned to their homes and were shamelessly collaborating with the Americans. Wolsey was not aware of any great problems the Americans were having in their rear with guerrillas or saboteurs. Did Cardigan know something he did not, or was this wishful thinking on the part of the old general?
Wolsey was still puzzled. “Sir, it is my understanding that reinforcements are en route that will more than double our numbers. Wouldn't it be prudent to wait for their arrival?”
“Prudence be damned! No, we attack now and we'll not wait for any bloody reinforcements.”
Wolsey was about to comment further when it dawned on him that Cardigan was afraid of losing his command when the reinforcements arrived. General Hugh Gough, a veteran of fighting in India, had already arrived and General Hugh Rose was en route. Perhaps their lordships in England felt that such a large command was beyond Cardigan's limited skills? Cardigan would be supplanted by a newcomer and the old general could easily hate the prospect.
Cardigan could even be replaced with someone already present, Wolsey thought. Even if General Rose wasn't to be the new commander, perhaps either General Campbell or General Gough could be promoted? Neither was a spectacularly brilliant leader, but both were solid professionals.
Perhaps the Duke of Cambridge, one of England's most senior generals, was en route as well? Cardigan's tenure in Canada had not exactly been covered with glory. He'd been surprised by Grant at Windsor, lost much of the most prosperous and densely populated area of Ontario, and thoroughly antagonized the influential Viscount Monck and much of the remainder of Canada.
No, Cardigan would take his army out to glory or death before he could be replaced and sent packing.
“What is my role, sir?”
Cardigan smiled. “Recall, please, that General Campbell commands the Scottish Division and that General Gough commands the British Division.”
Upon receipt of some British regulars to augment the Scottish regiments that had arrived and marched overland from Bangor, Maine, Cardigan had seen fit to divide his force along ethnic lines. The Scottish Division was the larger, consisting of about thirteen thousand men, while the British Division had about eleven thousand.
“Thanks to Viscount Monck,” Cardigan continued, “there is now a fairly substantial Canadian element, which now constitutes a third, and Canadian, division. It seems there is now a real fear of American occupation among the English-speaking Canadians, although the Frenchies seem almost mindlessly ambivalent about the war. As the Canadian militia have almost no knowledge of things military, they need an experienced commander. You, Brigadier General Wolsey, shall command them.”
“Another formless mob?” Wolsey blurted out before he could stop himself.
“A little better,” Cardigan said with a chuckle, “although not by much. They have been training for the last several weeks, and they do have proper arms along with a semblance of uniforms. They have, of course, elected their own officers, which may or may not be a good thing.”
Wolsey sighed. “I must admit it seems a dubious honor.”
“But an essential one. I have no intention of committing your Canadians to the assault against the Union. They shall remain in reserve and be on the defensive.”
That was somewhat comforting, Wolsey thought. Untrained troops do far better on the defensive, where the need for maneuver is less, than on the offensive, where they easily get confused as they move about. As to their electing their own officers, many militia units had shown intelligence and elected men who were likely to be good leaders, and not necessarily those who plied them with liquor to get their votes. Militia soldiers had a marvelous tendency to support those who were likely to bring them back alive.
“One last thing, Wolsey.”
“Yes. sir.”
“Try not to surrender or disband this lot. They're all we have.”
On safe arrival within the Union lines, former Confederate general Patrick Ronayne Cleburne had been greeted warmly by the Union general Don Carlos Buell, and then been sent by rail to Washington, where he'd met both Halleck and Stanton. After clarifying a few points, Cleburne had been commissioned a brigadier general in the Union army, and was authorized to recruit an all-Irish force to use against the British.
This did not sit well with everyone. Predictably, the Confederate press condemned Cleburne as a traitor even greater than Benedict Arnold, while some Union officers were far from thrilled with a turncoat immigrant being made a general. In particular, the officers commanding the previously organized Irish Brigade felt slighted. The Irish Brigade consisted of the 63rd, 69th, and 33th Regiments from New York. It was commanded by Thomas Meagher, an Irish revolutionary who had his own agenda regarding England. To mollify the New York regiments and Meagher, Cleburne's force was called the Irish Legion.
One of the points clarified was what to do with Irish deserters from the Confederate army. These now numbered several hundred, many of whom had elected to follow Cleburne and fight the British, while the rest simply wanted out of the damned war. It was decided that any who left the Confederate army were a blessing to the Union. Thus, those who wished to join Cleburne were free to do so, and any who wished to join the Union army and serve in the west against the Indians were equally free to do so. Further, those who wished to immigrate to the western territories as civilians could also do as they wished.
Cleburne did some recruiting in New York, but with only limited success, as Meagher's Irish Brigade had been there first. He did: however, cause a number of Irish already in the Irish Brigade to desert and enlist with him under assumed names. This infuriated Meagher and the other officers of the Brigade, who protested, but to no avail.
While Cleburne personally drummed up troops in Philadelphia and Boston, Attila Flynn sent Fenians to the various Union prisons. While many Confederate Irish were less than thrilled at serving the Union after their harsh treatment as prisoners, a number saw that fighting the English as a free man was a lot better than rotting and starving as a Union prisoner. A few who weren't Irish at all tried to convince Flynn's associates that they were, and some of these were accepted.
The most fertile area for recruiting was Boston. Not only did the city have a large number of rabidly anti-British Irish, but the British had bombarded the town, killed civilians, and destroyed the livelihoods of those people who had just emigrated to the new world in hopes of bringing themselves up from the abject poverty of the old. In civilian life, Cleburne had been a lawyer and had developed some skill as an orator, which further helped convince recruits to join him.
Within a couple of weeks, Brigadier General Cleburne had a Legion that stood at just over seven thousand eager but untrained souls, with more clamoring to join. Wisely, he determined that what he had was all he could cope with at the moment. He would add more later. Equally wisely, he took them well into western Massachusetts and away from the taverns and other temptations of Boston for their training.
Attila Flynn sat under the shade of a tree and watched Cleburne's recruits march and maneuver. They were a ragged group, but nowhere near as disorganized and confused as they had been when they first started. Most seemed to understand the difference between their right and left feet. Cleburne walked over and squatted on the ground beside him. Flynn turned and grinned.
“A fine sight, isn't it, General? All of these wonderful young men ready to fight against Victoria and her brutish minions.”