The Fateful Lightning (71 page)

“Major Roy!”

Roy appeared, a friendly nod toward Joyce. “Yes, sir.”

“I shall retire. We must have the men up well before dawn. I expect orders from General Johnston informing us of our objective for the morrow’s march.”

He pulled out his pocket watch, saw it was after nine, looked at Joyce now. “Sir, I am decidedly in your debt. Please retire. The business of the army has inflicted enough cost on you. You need not lose a night’s sleep, and your wife must be kept comfortable.”

“No mind a’tall, sir. Kinda miss this, the marching and all. Can’t say that around my wife. But if I could pick up a musket, I’d sure join along with you.”

Hardee tried to smile, thought, Where is
this
spirit in the rest of the men? If he had fought for another two years, would he be so willing?

“
W
hat time is it?”

“Just after two, sir. Very sorry to wake you.”

Hardee blinked through the glow of the lantern, realized there were at least four men there, Roy holding the lantern, Pickett behind him, the others, White, Poole.

“What is it?”

Roy said, “Courier, sir, from General Johnston. It’s on paper.”

“What’s it say? You’ve read it already, I assume.”

Pickett stepped forward, blocking the lantern, blessed relief to Hardee’s watering eyes. “It’s best if you read it yourself, sir.”

He sat up, wiped at his face, tried to wake up, stared at the pencil scratchings on the paper. He leaned forward, the light catching the
face of the paper, Roy holding the lantern closer. He read, stared at the signature, Johnston’s own, read it again. Roy said, “It can’t be true, sir.”

Hardee stared past the paper, felt oddly calm, could feel the tension, the anxiousness from the others. “It
can
be true, Major. Until we know anything else, we must consider it to be true. Johnston will determine that with certainty. I imagine he’ll meet with the president in Danville as quickly as possible. There will be much to discuss.”

“I cannot believe this, sir.”

He looked at the young face of Poole, saw tears, forced himself to avoid that. “Lieutenant, there will be no change to tomorrow’s orders unless I hear differently. Have the men up early, prepared to march. General Johnston says here that the president is passing this along to us, based on ‘unofficial intelligence.’ But Johnston would not send a courier out here this late unless he believed it to be true. Until I know otherwise, we must assume that General Lee…” He stopped, felt a sudden pinch in his throat. He tried to hold it in, to gather himself, fought to hold back what he knew had been coming for a very long time. “We must assume that the Army of Northern Virginia has been compelled to surrender.”

SMITHFIELD, NORTH CAROLINA—APRIL 11, 1865

The general commanding announces to the army that he had official notice from General Grant that General Lee surrendered to him his entire army on the 9th, inst., at Appomattox Court-House, Virginia. Glory to God and our country, and all honor to our comrades in arms, toward whom we are marching! A little more labor, a little more toil on our part, the great race is won, and our Government stands regenerated, after four long years of war
.

—
W. T. SHERMAN, MAJOR GENERAL, COMMANDING

T
he cheering seemed to echo for miles, word passed as quickly as the couriers could communicate to the officers, those men passing the word just as quickly to their subordinates. Already, with the fall of Richmond, Sherman had pressed his senior commanders to pursue Johnston’s army with all speed, Sherman expecting that Lee and Johnston would be urgently seeking a rendezvous. But Lee’s surrender was a surprise.

The march had proceeded as Sherman had ordered it, the columns
marching first toward Smithfield, a ragged skirmish there with Hampton’s cavalry, what seemed designed only to slow down the lead elements of Sherman’s columns. Smithfield fell into Sherman’s hands within a couple of hours, the columns then proceeding as he had planned, pushing closer still to Raleigh.

He had to assume that every official in the Confederacy had received news of Lee’s surrender, so it was no surprise when Kilpatrick’s advance was suddenly confronted by a railroad engine on the tracks out of Raleigh, bearing two officials of the state of North Carolina. Kilpatrick passed them through to Sherman, who accepted their flag of truce. But their entreaty had only to do with a request that the city of Raleigh, along with its citizenry, be unharmed.

H
e recalled Lincoln’s instructions, knew that Governor Vance was far less of a fire-breathing secessionist than Magrath of South Carolina. He scanned the clothing, fine suits, though both men were aged, somewhat rumpled in appearance.

“So, you gentlemen speak for Governor Vance?”

“Yes, sir. Quite.”

“And you are?”

“I am David Swain, sir, president of the Chapel Hill University. This is Senator William Graham.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Graham. Did you not serve as secretary of the navy, some years back?”

“Yes, sir. Indeed.”

“It is a shame that a man who served his country in such ways should have pledged himself to a rebellion.”

The two men were clearly aware they had no power at all, that whatever Sherman chose to do with them was Sherman’s own decision. He watched them fidget, was annoyed, had expected more of a meaningful communication than merely a pleading for mercy.

After a silent moment, Swain said, “Sir, we were most abused by your cavalry. I do not offer that as a complaint. Merely that we are aware that hostilities still exist between your army and…the Confederates. Our purpose is to spare innocent civilians from such abuse
as an army can sometimes inflict. I mention this only as a concern that what occurred in Columbia not be repeated in Raleigh.”

Sherman lost any inkling of goodwill, looked around, the rail depot swarming with his men, held back by the guards. The railcar had been boarded by Kilpatrick’s men first, had continued on to the station at Smithfield, piloted by a very young engineer, who stood off to one side, under guard, a show of force that was only that.

“I have been accused of many things, gentlemen. But I have been grossly misrepresented with regard to Columbia. My men and I, my own staff, worked tirelessly to extinguish fires throughout most of the night!” He felt his temper blossoming into a full red fury. “I tell you now, in the presence of God, that Hampton burned Columbia, and that he alone is responsible for it! If you came here to make accusations, you have endangered yourself to no good purpose.”

He saw Graham’s eyes widen, the old man extending his hands, a gesture of calm. “Please, General, we make no such accusations. We are merely concerned, as Governor Vance is concerned, that your army understand our willingness to welcome you without hostilities.”

Sherman saw a column of smoke rising out beyond the station, pointed that way. “That’s a house. It was burned by the rebel rear guard as they retreated before us. I’ve seen as much of that as I have any destruction by my own men. I want that known, and understood, especially by your governor.”

Swain seemed eager to respond. “Oh, my, yes. Governor Vance is a man who understands political realities, General. He welcomes the coming peace.”

Sherman regained his composure, knew there was a large audience, that every step he took now might be magnified beyond his control. “I have already ordered my men to respect and protect private property. I shall respond in writing to the governor’s request. You may be assured that I will do everything in my power to terminate this war. As for any hostilities that exist between my soldiers and those of General Johnston, to that I cannot speak, other than to predict that any hostile act aimed at any of my troops shall be answered in like fashion. That is what war is, gentlemen.” He glanced upward,
the sun sinking low over the roof of the rail depot. “I would not advise you to make your return trip in the dark. A single railcar passing through the camps of this army would make for a tempting target. You are welcome to spend the night. We do not have the kind of accommodations to which you are no doubt accustomed. My tent can be shared with one of you.” He turned, saw Hitchcock. “Major, will you graciously give up your tent to one of these gentlemen?”

Hitchcock stepped forward, an unnecessary show of approval. He nodded formally, then said, “Sir, I am pleased if Mr. Swain uses my tent. My mother was a classmate of yours, sir. Some years ago, of course.”

Sherman tried to hide his annoyance, had no interest in a social gathering. “Fine, Major. See to it.”

The men made their farewells, moved off with Sherman’s guard, the young engineer escorted away as well. Sherman watched them go, heard the shouts coming from the crowd of soldiers now, men calling out, the usual “Uncle Billy,” and much more, a chorus of cheers for what the men assumed had been a surrender offer right in front of them. He motioned to Dayton, said, “Major, pass the word among the officers present. I fear rumors will run rampant that Johnston has surrendered his army. These men smelled far too much like a peace commission. Put a stop to that.”

“Yes, sir. Do you not expect that, sir? What have the rebels left to fight for?”

Sherman waved him away, couldn’t shake a blanket of gloom. He caught Snelling’s eye, motioned to the guards to make way toward his own camp. The rest of his staff fell into line with him, Sherman walking, his eyes straight ahead, his usual effort to ignore the cheering around him. He moved toward the cluster of larger tents, pulled out a cigar, eyed the dark clouds rolling in overhead. Rain tonight, he thought. Naturally. Is there a week anyplace in this God forsaken country where the sun is allowed to warm my bones? He spit the tip off the cigar, continued his slow march, quicker now, the need to be away from the troops, to find someplace to sit down. McCoy was up beside him, said, “Sir, if you care for some dinner, we have butchered a local hog.”

Sherman stopped, looked at McCoy with a hard stare. “This is not yet over, Major. These men will lose their fire if we allow that. I sense a party here. That cannot be. The enemy is still dangerous and is still anticipating a confrontation with us.”

McCoy seemed concerned, said, “Yes, sir. Dayton will pass the word, as you instructed.” He paused. “Is there something else, sir?”

Sherman knew how well McCoy could read him, the young man sharing so much of the triumph and the sadness of Sherman’s entire command. He thought of lighting the cigar, no energy for it, clamped it into his mouth unlit. “I wanted to be there.”

“With General Grant?”

Sherman was surprised. “You know me more than I know myself, Major. That makes for a good staff officer. Yes, with Grant. I didn’t know until now how much I hoped we would join these men together, that we would trample this rebellion in one great blow. I know he shares that. I can feel it in his letters, I felt it at City Point. It will not happen now.”

“You said yourself, sir, we have heard nothing from General Johnston. There could still be a fight, a last desperate assault, one more defense.”

Sherman shook his head. “We shall march as we planned, we shall pursue Johnston, and if he chooses to fight, we shall massacre him. He knows that. Joe Johnston is many things, but he is not a fool. Lee surrendered his army because he had no remaining options. How many options does Johnston have? That’s an easy question. None.”

T
he following morning, April 12, the officials from Raleigh were allowed to make their return journey, Sherman offering a gesture of generosity he was under no obligation to extend. The men were allowed to keep their rail engine, the terrified engineer once more driving them through the raucous abuse from Kilpatrick and his cavalrymen. Following close behind them came Sherman himself, riding through a driving rainstorm. By eight that morning, he was within the limits of North Carolina’s capital.

Already the city had been officially surrendered, another cluster of
well-suited officials, including Raleigh’s mayor, William Harrison. Sherman expected to see Governor Vance, knew that Lincoln’s intuition about Vance was certainly accurate, that North Carolina had a vocal minority who spoke out against secession. But Vance had panicked, anticipating that he would be arrested as an official of the Confederacy, and had vacated the city, escaping into the lines of Hampton’s cavalry.

As Sherman rode past the fine homes and shops of the state’s capital, he could see columns of smoke, broken glass from shattered store windows, his officers eager to explain that it was rebel cavalry who had looted the city, one last trampling of the citizenry at the hands of their own desperate men. Sherman paid that little mind, had no interest in Raleigh at all. Already Kilpatrick had the scent of Johnston’s trail, the rebels on a rapid march to the northwest, toward the town of Greensboro, where the railroad could still carry their army the short forty miles to Danville, Virginia. Once more Johnston’s weary soldiers were slopping through mud-covered roads, across swollen creeks, none of them with any real notion just what lay in their path.

Even as Sherman gathered his forces around Raleigh, in Greensboro a meeting was already in progress, most of the officials of the government of the Confederacy, bringing what they could carry from the treasury and archives of their capital. With the rain soaking through the dreariness of the afternoon, Jefferson Davis was given the dismal appraisal of the fortunes of his army, Joe Johnston offering the startling statistics that throughout what remained of the Confederacy, the combined Federal forces outnumbered any force that could be put in their path by a factor of nearly eighteen to one. Despite Davis’s fantastic dreams that the war could still be won, that he alone could summon a new army from the scattered territories of his command, Johnston’s entreaties to the other officials of his government finally persuaded Davis that one course, and only one, lay open.

Major General W. T. Sherman
,

The results of the recent campaign in Virginia have changed the relative military condition of the belligerents. I am therefore induced to address you, in this form, the inquiry
whether in order to stop the further effusion of blood and devastation of property, you are willing to make a temporary suspension of active operations, and to communicate to Lieutenant-General Grant, commanding the armies of the United States, the request that he will take like action in regard to other armies—the object being to permit civil authorities to enter into the needful arrangements to terminate the existing war
.

JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON — GENERAL, COMMANDING

On April 14, Sherman responded:

I have this moment received your communication. I am fully empowered to arrange with you any terms for the suspension of further hostilities between the two armies commanded by you and those commanded by myself, and will be willing to confer with you to that end….