They were not a very prepossessing pair. The Senator was young and already balding. General Sherman had a wiry red beard and a short but tough body, although he did have the erect and military bearing of a West Point graduate. His eyes were as cold and empty as those of a bird of prey. Unless he was addressed directly he did not speak. Instead he sat quietly, looking out the window at the Potomac River and past that to the plowed fields of Virginia on the far side. Apparently having no interest at all in the political conversation. Lincoln watched him out of the corners of his eyes, struggling with a memory that was just below the surface. Of course!
“Well Senator,” the President cut in, interrupting what was turning into an all too familiar abolitionist speech, “what you say has a lot of good reason to it. All I have to say is what the girl said when she put her foot into the stocking, ‘It strikes me that there is something in it’. I shall keep your thoughts in mind. But now I would also like to have a word or two with your brother.” He turned in his chair to face Sherman. “General, stop me if I am wrong, but didn’t we meet at least once before?”
Sherman nodded. “We have, Mr. Lincoln. It was soon after the Battle of Bull Run.”
“That’s it, of course, a little matter of discipline with one of your Irish regiments as I recall.”
“You might say that. As I remember it happened soon before you arrived. A captain, a lawyer if you will excuse my saying so, came up to me and spoke while a number of his soldiers were within earshot. In no uncertain terms he told me that his three-month term was up and he was going home. I was not going to abide by this, not in front of the men.”
Sherman’s face was rigid with anger as he relived the moment. “This kind of thing has to be stopped the instant it starts. Particularly in front of men who have already fled once from battle. So I reached inside my overcoat and said, ‘If you attempt to leave without orders, it will be mutiny, and I will shoot you like a dog’. The matter ended there.”
“Not quite,” Lincoln said, smiling at the memory. “It must have been later that same day when I was riding through the encampment with Secretary of State Seward when this same captain comes up and points at you and says, ‘Mr. President, I have a cause of grievance. This morning I went to speak to Colonel Sherman, and he threatened to shoot me’.”
Always savoring a good story, Lincoln leaned back while he hesitated a dramatic moment before going on.
“I waited a bit, then leaned down and whispered to him in what I believe they call a stage whisper. I said, ‘Well, if I were you, and he threatened to shoot, I would not trust him for I believe he would do it!’ ”
They laughed together because it was a good story well told.
“Of course,” Lincoln added, “I only discovered what it was all about after Colonel Sherman, as he was at that time, explained. My feeling was that since I did not know anything about it, I did still feel that you knew your own business best.”
“Morale was not good after our defeat at Bull Run so any talk like that had to be stopped at once.”
“In the West Point manner.”
“That is correct.”
“After leaving West Point were you not also at one time superintendent of the Louisiana State Military Academy? Is that true?”
“I had that honor.”
“Cump is too reluctant by far,” John said. “He founded that academy, practically built it by himself. Started with an empty field, designed the buildings and had the school up and running within two months.”
The President nodded. “With a responsible post like that you must have had many friends in the South?”
“I had — and perhaps still have some of them. During my service I grew to know the men of the South. I had personal friends there whom I admired as men. But for their attitude toward the Negroes they enslave I have no respect at all. If a man goes forth and no matter how well dressed and well spoken he is, he is a man like any other. However if a man goes forth and is followed by a slave who attends him, why in the South he is looked upon as something else again. A man who enslaves other men — and is proud of it to boot. In many other ways they can be fine and honorable people. If trained, they make good soldiers. They are a military people with a strong military tradition.”
Lincoln nodded. “Unhappily that is so. Far too many of your West Point comrades are fighting on the other side.”
“The Southerners make good fighting men. But at times they are immune to simple logic. I know, for I have attempted to make them see reason. At one time I even attempted to warn them, the officers teaching in the academy, of their certain fate, of what the future positively held in store for them. I am afraid they did not listen for they are a most firm-minded lot.”
The President was puzzled. “You have me there, General. What was it you wanted to warn them about?”
“This was after the Southern states began to secede. It was a time of great concern. All of the instructors in the academy were serving officers in the United States Army. They were torn by loyalty to the government and loyalty to their states. I tried to reason with them. To tell them about the disastrous war that was certainly coming, Mr. President. I tried to tell them of their folly for I could see that our country would be drenched in blood if they persevered along this road to civil war. Drenched in their own blood. I could not convince them that the peaceful people of the North would fight if they had to. They would fight and they would win.”
“You speak with great conviction. You felt the fighting spirit of the North would eventually prevail against that of the South?”
“Not at all. The Southerner has always been military-minded, that is why so many of them have gone to West Point. Because of that they think themselves superior in many ways. But we are all Americans, North and South, and react to conflict in an identical manner. But it is not the fighting spirit that will win this war. In the end it is the machinery of warfare that will prevail. The South cannot build a locomotive or a railway car. Or anything else needed to fight a war and pursue it to final victory. They will win battles — they are very brave people — but they do not have the resources to win a war. When I told them this they smiled at me as though I were soft.”
Sherman paused for a moment looking out of the window with his cold, empty eyes. Looking across the dividing Potomac at the enemy land. Seeing events past — perhaps seeing events to come.
“After that I had no choice. The only course open to me was to leave the South and join the Union cause. Of course my words were rejected and quickly forgotten — and we were swept into this war. But I knew them as kind good friends. To this day I cannot think of them as rebels or traitors. They are fighting in defense of their country, their houses and families, against what they see as invaders.”
Lincoln was impressed; a fighting man who was a serious thinker as well. Too many of his generals were full of fight and very little else. And some of them didn’t even have that fighting spirit. General McClellan had spent five months doing absolutely nothing. Now he was in hospital with fever and the President had taken over his command. In the west Halleck appeared to be stalemated. Soldiers were dying but nothing seemed to be happening despite this. Only at sea was the blockade succeeding. Blockade runners were seized almost every day, supplies in the South running out. But this was a stalemate. The war could not be won by simply standing back and hoping the Rebels would starve themselves to death. If this General Sherman had a higher command he might be able to do something about that. Not right now, but he would keep him in mind.
“You will go far, General. Indeed I wish I had a dozen like you. If I did this war would be over by next spring. It is my understanding that it is your wish to take up a command under General Halleck?”
“It is. If the Commander-in-Chief is in agreement he wishes me to have a division under General Grant.”<