The train jolted and brought him back to the purpose of his visit in the West. There was far more to do. He had intended to visit Major Generals Grant and Rosecrans, who commanded the two major armies in the Western Theater; brief them on his organization; and set up the military intelligence staffs that he had created for the Army of the Potomac. Unforeseen events had intervened. Grant was in New Orleans, disabled by an accident in which the vicious horse he had been riding had fallen on him. Rosecrans was also unavailable. He was marching into battle.
BRIDGEPORT, ALABAMA, 7:00 PM, SEPTEMBER 4, 1863
The Union troops marched across the pontoon bridge over the Tennessee River in an endless river of faded blue. There was great confidence in all ranks as the Army of the Cumberland, which had chased its opponent, the Confederate Army of Tennessee, out of Alabama and into northern Georgia. The mercurial Maj. Gen. William Rosecrans-”Old Rosy” to his troops for his good nature and his Roman nose colored red by the bottle-had run the fight out of his opposition, the sour and dyspeptic Lt. Gen. Braxton Bragg, whose only aggressive characteristic was the intensity with which he avoided a decisive battle. Bragg had systematically alienated every senior Army officer with his relentlessly nasty and blame-placing personality. Rosecrans, who was the most popular officer in the Union Army, had already beaten Bragg at the battle of Stone’s River in December 1862, a tonic to the North after the disastrous defeat at Freder-icksburg a few weeks before.
The campaign flowed onward to what everyone could sense was coming-the decisive battle. It was understandable that Rosecrans had not had time to consider a letter dated twelve days before from a major of the 21st Illinois, despite the strong endorsements of his brigade and division commanders. Maj. James E. Callaway had been mightily impressed with the effectiveness of the innovation of mounted infantry armed with the Spencer repeating rifle and requested permission to raise a regiment of mounted infantry in his native state. A bold, intelligent, and far-thinking young lawyer, Callaway was the type of man who was attracted to the potential and thrill of the cutting edge of change. He pressed on Rosecrans, “There are already several companies organized in the state of Illinois that are anxious to enter the service as cavalry or mounted infantry.” He threw in his political connections with the state adjutant general who had “pledged all the assistance in his power.”
Callaway was striking while the iron was hot. Already the brigade of mounted infantry under Col. John Thomas Wilder had proven its worth in Rosecrans’s brilliant Tullahoma Campaign that June. The brigade was the brainchild of Maj. Gen. Lovell H. Rousseau, one of Rosecrans’s division commanders, who had arrived in Washington in February “all afire with zeal for mounted infantry.” Rousseau had deep credit with Lincoln. He had been, according to the President, “our first active practical Military friend in Kentucky.” Now Rousseau was telling Lincoln what he wanted and needed to hear-that only mounted infantry armed with repeaters could deal with the likes of the infamous Nathan Bedford Forrest. He said, “I propose to organize and use such a force to be furnished with Sharps rifles. If I do not make this pay at the end of three months from today, I will cheerfully relinquish the command.”
Lincoln was impressed and wrote Rosecrans, authorizing the experiment. Rosecrans had been an early supporter of Rousseau’s idea and had requested repeating rifles in February only to receive the usual tart and disingenuous reply from Ripley’s ally as general in chief of the armies, Maj. Gen. Henry Halleck. “You are not the only general who is urgently calling for more cavalry and more cavalry arms. The supply is limited, and the demands of all cannot be satisfied. In regard to ‘revolving rifles, superior arms,’ amp;c., every one is issued the moment it is received.” Halleck did not mention that the repeaters had not really been ordered at all.
Rosecrans was not one to wait on Ripley’s shifty promises; he immediately authorized Colonel Wilder to impress mounts and transform his infantry into a mounted infantry brigade. Wilder was even less willing to rely on normal requisitions. He bought Spencers with money borrowed from Indiana home state bankers, and his eager men repaid the bankers in installments. The federal government later reimbursed them. It was an effective way to get around Ripley. The Spencers soon proved their worth, whipping a Confederate brigade at Hoover’s Gap with the weight of their firepower. The enemy commander thought he was outnumbered five to one and suffered three to one losses. Thereafter, they were known as “Wilder’s Lightning Brigade.”
Callaway was determined to catch some of that lightning for himself, but he would have to wait. The big fight was coming, and for him it would be an old-fashioned infantryman’s brawl. The Army pressed on; it could smell the enemy’s fear.
Tremors of despair spread in every direction from all ranks of the fleeing Army of Tennessee. They arrived in Richmond and from there to the headquarters of Robert E. Lee at Culpepper Court House in Northern Virginia. President Davis feared the worst. Yet he would not replace Bragg for whom he had a great and unaccountable regard. Something would have to be done to save Bragg from himself. As usual, in such moments of desperation, Davis turned to Robert E. Lee.
8
OFF THE MOUTH OF THE MERSEY RIVER, LIVERPOOL BAY, 8:22 AM, SEPTEMBER 4, 1863
Lamson had asked his chief engineer for every bit of speed the engines of the Gettysburg could generate. The word had spread through the crew that the ship was speeding west to pounce on their unsuspecting quarry. The black gangs sprang to their broad shovels with a will to feed the boilers with the good Welsh coal taken aboard at Liverpool. The fires burned hot as the sweat slicked off them in dark, greasy rivulets. Had they been galley rowers in ancient Greece, they themselves would have been the motive engines of their ship, their muscles fed with energy from bread dipped in olive oil. Now the hard coal of Wales replaced muscles to power the world.
Moelfre Bay was just short of forty-five nautical miles from the Mersey’s mouth. Lamson could make it in three hours or a bit less. Gettysburg had taken off like an arrow, leaving Liverpool behind just as she was joined by Goshawk. As it was, Lamson had a barely fifteen-minute head start. The lookout shouted that the British ships were coming directly after them. Lamson could only conclude that they would try to snatch his prey from him. Fox had chosen Gettysburg for her speed, and that speed was the only advantage he had now. Liverpool could do between ten and twelve knots to Gettysburg’s sixteen. That meant they would arrive at Moelfre Bay in about four hours. None of this would mean a damn if North Carolina had already transferred its crew and departed. In that case, he would be following her most likely course to the Azores. There are too many ifs, he thought.