Palmerston grasped his left hand with his right. It was so difficult to feel the cold limb. He needed a rest, but there wasn't time. He tried to visualize the British army, thousands of miles away, advancing in triumph into Washington. But the picture wouldn't focus.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Union forces defending Washington were arrayed in a wide circle, which meant that not one single position was defended in extraordinary depth. While the fortresses could stop virtually any attack, it was accepted that no fortification was truly impregnable. Thus, the intent of the massive fortifications was to delay an attacker until reinforcements could arrive both from within Washington and from other locations.
Washington was perceived by planners on both sides as being like Mr. Lowe's balloons in that once pierced a collapse could occur. As commander in Washington, Major General George Meade had planned for exactly such a contingency. He was confident that his reinforcements could react in a timely manner and blunt any Confederate assault. He was particularly pleased that Mr. Lowe's balloons would give him an additional advantage in that the movement of a large force of men would easily be seen from thousands of feet in the sky.
If a small leak did occur in the balloon of his Washington defenses, General Meade was confident that it could be plugged. There, the metaphor ended. Meade wanted the rebels to attack and impale themselves on Washington's fortifications. He had shared this thought with Grant, who'd concurred but who'd also doubted that the British and Confederates would be so cooperative.
In the Anglo-Confederate camp, it was Brigadier General Garnet Wolsey who first postulated a solution to the Washington problem as the weary army trudged slowly towards Virginia. The British had much more experience in siege warfare as a result of the Crimean War, so he proposed that he command a small force of volunteers who would assault one of the Union forts under cover of darkness. It was very similar to the concept of a Forlorn Hope, which was the name given to a group of British soldiers driven to desperation, for whatever reason, who volunteered to make nearly suicidal attacks in hope of achieving glory, forgiveness for crimes, or both.
To provide additional camouflage for his efforts. Wolsey proposed that the main part of the Anglo-Confederate army be several miles away from the point of attack to avoid being considered an immediate threat by the observers in the balloons. Elements of the main army, however, would rush to support Wolsey's attack, also under cover of darkness. When the breach was successfully made, as many troops as necessary would be poured through to defeat Meade's reserves and take Washington.
Once taken, they would do what they wished with it for a couple of days and continue their withdrawal. There were no plans to hold on to the Union capital. It was hoped that the capture of major Northern leaders and the shame of losing the city would be enough. The Union would be humiliated, and purpose would be given to the Anglo-Confederate force's so-far-unsuccessful efforts in Pennsylvania. Whether it would bring the Union to a treaty was problematical. At this point, no one cared. They just wanted to return home victorious.
“Are you with me?” Wolsey beamed. “Then it's approved?” asked Knollys.
“Certainly. What do Lee or Napier have to lose besides a one-eyed brigadier general and a couple of hundred men? I have more volunteers than I could handle. Thank God we still have men who think burning Washington is a marvelous idea. I want you to be my second in command.”
“I'm honored. Perhaps we'll have as much success as we did at New York.”
“Nothing could ever go that well again.” Wolsey looked skyward. The clouds were low and threatening. He wondered what rain would do to his plans.
Colonel John Rawlins often felt his inadequacies as Grant's chief of staff and was frequently embarrassed by them. Managing the myriad functions and controlling Grant's communications was definitely beyond his limited capabilities as an administrator. Yet he would not resign and Grant would not replace him. They were friends and needed each other.
Thus, Rawlins and Grant had been up much of the night drafting the multitude of orders necessary to once again shift the massive army, with Grant again doing much of the clerical work. This time, they were shifting the army southward and would continue to stay parallel to the retreating enemy. Sherman was to move to Baltimore while Thomas, currently at Baltimore, would move south and assume command over Meade at Washington. All the while. Grant would exert heavy pressure on Lee's rear guard.
The rules of the chase had changed. Whereas battle with Lee had been avoided, now it was to be sought out. It was felt that the food and ammunition shortages, verified by prisoners and deserters, had so weakened Lee that victory was a strong likelihood. It was also interesting that a number of the deserters had been British.
Rawlins was tired, and he lurched more than walked in the predawn darkness. As so many times in the past, Grant had dictated the orders and Rawlins had written them out. Rawlins was always impressed by the general's lucidity and the manner in which he wrote copiously and unambiguously the directions that kept the vast army coordinated and organized. To first see the slight, rumpled little general, one would never dream that he had such intellectual capabilities.
Compounding the difficulty in coordinating the dispersed armies was the use of Haupt's railroads. In Rawlins's opinion. Haupt was an arrogant, bullheaded Kraut who also happened to be a genius. Every day. miles of additional track were laid, or ripped up, or ripped up and moved. Haupt understood that the rail lines were temporary and did not have to last forever, only a couple of months at most. He had often laid tracks on ground that had been minimally prepared. As a result, spiderwebs of tracks grew daily and emanated all around the Union armies, thus permitting the swift movement of Grant's forces.
This swiftness was part of Rawlins's problem. Events with armies, corps, and divisions moved with a speed he couldn't keep up with. His pockets were jammed with orders that needed to be distributed promptly and accurately. Some would be sent by messengers to commanders in the field nearby. However, since the armies were distributed over so wide an area, a large number would be sent by telegraph from the communications tent, which was where Rawlins was headed. Grant had a telegraph machine in his tent, but it couldn't handle the volume.
Just as he approached the telegraph center, he was suddenly struck in the side and knocked to the muddy ground. Stunned, he rolled over in the muck and got to his knees just in time to see a young private gazing at him in horror.
“You goddamn fool!” Rawlins snarled.
The private, however, was not a fool. He quickly realized that he had knocked one of Grant's staff onto his ass and into a mud puddle. The private picked himself up and ran off into the night.
“Come back here, you dumb little shit!” Rawlins yelled fruitlessly.
A couple of other soldiers came and helped Rawlins up. all the while managing not to laugh at his discomfiture. Then they started to pick up all the papers that had spilled from Rawlins's pockets in the collision.