“The British have new warships as well,” Grant said.
“They do — and I have examined reports on them. I am sure that in battle they will be outgunned and outfought by our own ships.”
“Good,” Sherman said, and turned as the door opened. “And here is the man himself.”
Ericsson muttered something incomprehensible as he hurried to his workbench and rifled through a sheaf of drawings there. His hands were smeared with grease, but he did not notice the dark marks that he made on the drawings. “Here,” he said, extracting a drawing and holding it up for inspection. “This can explain how the sea batteries are constructed. Far better than words can. See?”
His finger traced along the bottom of the drawing, pointing out a thick iron structure. “You will note the mortars are aligned along the centerline of the vessel, directly over this iron keel. When they fire, in turn I must insist, the recoil is absorbed by the keel. Mortars of this size have never been mounted in a ship before. It is my fear that if they were all fired at once, it would blow out the bottom of the hull. Is this clear, Admiral; do you understand precisely what I am saying?”
“I understand clearly,” Farragut said, making no attempt to conceal his anger at the engineer’s overbearing attitude. “All of the ship’s officers have been well briefed. They will fire only when your electric telegraph is activated.”
“The telegraph is just a machine — and it could easily fail in combat. The central gunnery officer sends an electric signal that activates a solenoid at a gun position — which raises the red tag instructing the position to fire. But if the machine is broken, signals must be passed along manually. That is when there should be no confusion. One gun at a time, that is most important.”
“The instructions have been given. All of the officers are aware of the situation and have been trained to act accordingly.”
“Hmmph,” Ericsson muttered, then sniffed loudly. Obviously believing in the perfection of machines — but not of men. His bad temper faded only when he looked at the drawing again.
“You will have noted the resemblance of this design to the Roman military ‘turtle’ defensive maneuver. Where the outer ranks of an attacking party held their shields on all sides to protect them from enemy missiles. While the center ranks held their shields over their heads in a defense similar to a turtle’s shell. So do our sea batteries. There is six inches of iron armor, backed by oak, in the hull, rising higher than the guns. Sections of iron shielding are positioned above to cover the decks for protection. These are hinged on the sides and are opened by steam pistons, but only when the mortars are ready to fire.”
While his description of the shielding was confusing, it was clearly indicated in the drawing.
“Come,” Ericsson said, “we will inspect USS Thor, the first ship completed. The god of thunder — and the one who wields the hammer which will smite the enemy.”
After years of pressure from the inventor to put a Viking name to one of his ships, the Navy Department had relented begrudgingly. However, in addition to Thor, there were the USS Thunderer, Attacker, and Destructor. Apt names for these mighty vessels.
When they left the office building and walked to the dock, they appreciated for the first time the raw strength of the mortar vessels. The guns themselves were siege weapons, never designed to be seaborne. A man could have easily fit into the wide muzzle of one of the barrels; the explosive shell that it fired would wreak hideous destruction on any gun batteries, no matter how well protected.
“Admirable,” Sherman said, nodding as he looked at the grim strength of the sea battery. “Admirable. This is the key that will unlock our victory. Or rather one of two keys to that victory. In the attack the gun-carrying tanks will be in the fore.”
“I will show you now their new protections.”
“I am afraid you must excuse me, then,” Admiral Farragut said. “They are your responsibility, General Sherman, not mine. I have no wish to see them again.”
Not so Sherman and Grant. When they looked at the deadly machines, they saw victory in battle, not black iron and harsh angles.
“This is the latest improvement,” Ericsson said, patting the curved steel shield that protected the gunner. Only the projecting barrels of the Gatling gun could be seen. “The shield, of course you can see that, obvious to anyone, but inside the device itself you will find the works of mechanical genius.” He lifted a door and pointed into the entrails of the machine. “There, to the rear of the engine, you see that casing?”
The two generals nodded that they did, but did not speak aloud the knowledge that it meant nothing to them.
“Consider the transmission of energy,” Ericsson said, and Sherman groaned inwardly at what he knew would be another incomprehensible lecture. “The engine rotates a driveshaft. It must then turn the second shaft on which the wheels are mounted. But they are unmoving. How can the energy of rotation be transmitted to them?”
Ericsson, carried away by his passion for his invention, was blissfully unaware of the looks of bafflement on their faces. “Thus my invention of a transfer case. A roughened steel plate is fastened to the end of the rotating shaft. Facing it is a second steel plate affixed by splines to the wheel shaft. A lever, this one, forces the second plate forward so the two plates meet and the power is transmitted, the wheels turn, the vehicle moves forward.”
“Indeed a work of genius,” Sherman said. If there was any irony in his words, it was lost on the Swedish engineer, who smiled and nodded agreement.
“Your machines are ready for battle, General — whenever you are.”
SHADOWS OF WAR
The battle plans were now as final as they could possibly be. Countless folders and drawers of detailed documents rested in the files of Room 313 in the War Department. General Sherman knew exactly what he wanted done. Knew to a man the sizes of the military units that he would command,
the number and the strengths of the ships that he would employ. Army officers, not clerks, were now working in the greatly expanded Room 313; they fleshed out these orders with exact details of manpower, officers, material, and support. They were not as efficient, or as fast, as trained clerks were, but they knew very well how to keep secrets. The near disaster at the Navy Department after the theft of orders was too recent to be ignored. Lieutenants and captains, muttering to themselves about doing school lessons, nevertheless transcribed the hundreds of copies needed by modern warfare. Since sea power was essential to the coming operation, Admiral Farragut was Sherman’s constant companion. His advice was vital, and between them, the two commanders decided what forces would be required, then shaped the fleet of varied ships that would be needed to support the landing forces and assure victory. With a passion for detail that exhausted his officers, Sherman went over and over the organizational plans until they were precisely what he desired.
“It is a new kind of war,” he told General Grant. It was the first day of April and an early spring held Washington in a warm embrace. “I have given it much thought and have reached the reluctant conclusion that it is machines not men that make the difference now.”
“You cannot fight a war without soldiers.”
“Indeed you cannot. They must man the machines. First think about the repeating, breech-loading rifle and how it changed the battlefield. Realize how one man can now fire as many shots as a squad used to. Then go on to the Gatling gun. Now the single man has the firing power of almost an entire company. Put a number of Gatling guns together behind defensive shielding and you have an impregnable position that cannot be taken by enemy soldiers — no matter how brave they be. Now put the Gatling guns onto their powered carriers and you have a new kind of deadly cavalrymen who can sweep away any enemy that they face.”