Chapter 10

In This Chapter

Initiating and running the blockade

Capturing the big port: New Orleans

Rising star: George B. McClellan

Planning the final victory: The Peninsula campaign

T he army at Bull Run and Shiloh (see Chapters 8 and 9) had accomplished very little for the Union. The Union army had been shamefully defeated at Bull Run and although winning a victory at Shiloh, the staggering losses seemed to negate any advantage. So, the navy served as an important strategic weapon that provided the Union with several important victories. The effects of these victories would gain importance over time, as they contributed to the overall weakening of the Southern war effort.

In the months following Bull Run, the Union army in the Eastern Theater gained a new commander, and the Union war effort gained a new general-in-chief — George B. McClellan. While directing the entire war, McClellan also reorganized and trained a capable field army and drafted a plan to take Richmond and end the war. To accomplish this task, he would attack around the flank of Confederate defenses, using the rivers and combining land and naval power just as Grant had done in the West in his campaign against Forts Henry and Donelson (see Chapter 9).

Taking a Gamble: The Blockade

Five days after Fort Sumter fell in April 1861, Lincoln proclaimed a blockade of the Southern coastline. At the time, the U.S. Navy consisted of about 7,600 officers and men and 42 warships, 16 of which were more or less abandoned for lack of funds and crews. Lincoln took a gamble in declaring the blockade: Not only did he not have a force capable of establishing a blockade, Lincoln was granting the Confederacy legal status as a nation. According to international law, a blockade was a legal war measure one sovereign nation used against another sovereign nation. Lincoln understood that this fact was also irrelevant if the Confederacy was effectively shut off from international commerce. Thus, a dedicated effort began to establish an effective blockade and begininterdicting (stopping and seizing) Confederate ships.

Patrolling the Coast: Union Naval Victories

While the government began to spend enormous amounts of money to build a navy overnight, something had to be done to establish a Union presence off the 3,500-mile coast that had to be patrolled. Navy ships began their patrols out of Hampton Roads, Virginia, where the Union still controlled the waters due to its control of Fort Monroe. Using troops from the fort, a naval expedition moved to the North Carolina coast to capture two forts near Hatteras Inlet, a major point of arrival and departure of Confederate trading ships heading to Europe.

Although it would seem that the presence of a few hundred Union troops occupying a spit of sand would not have much of an effect, it was enough to give Union ships a base to patrol from and shut off the Confederate shipping lane. Several months later, Union forces effectively shut off every river access to the sea in North Carolina except Wilmington, which was protected by geography and a formidable coastal fort, Fort Fisher. Blockade-runners could slip in and out of the mouth of the Cape Fear River undetected by Union ships, which were kept at a distance by the big guns of Fort Fisher.

A few weeks later, another Union army-navy expedition seized an island at the entrance to Mobile Bay, an important Confederate port. The Union navy now could operate against Confederate shipping in the Gulf of Mexico. In November 1861, a Union fleet with soldiers and marines captured Port Royal, South Carolina. Union forces had a toehold on the Confederate mainland and established a major naval base there to deal with Confederate blockade-runners coming out of Charleston, South Carolina, and Savannah, Georgia. From Port Royal, a combined Union army-navy expedition captured St. Augustine, Florida.

The most important Union naval victory of this year was the capture of New Orleans in April 1862, just after Shiloh. Admiral David G. Farragut (see Figure 10-1) was a man who joined the navy when he was 9 years old, working as a cabin boy and powder monkey. Now 60, he did handsprings to impress his sailors. Aggressive and looking for a chance to take the fight to the enemy, Farragut led an expedition of 24 warships, 19 mortar boats (flat-bottomed platforms that carried a mortar, a gun that fired an artillery shell at very high angles), and 15,000 troops to capture the South’s largest city and most important commercial center. Using the mortar boats to bombard the two forts guarding the mouth of the Mississippi River, Farragut then in a daring move sent his flotilla upriver in total darkness to sneak past the forts. A spectacular fight ensued, with hundreds of cannons firing and fire rafts sent downstream by the Confederates to destroy the wooden Union warships.

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Through it all, Farragut was undisturbed, even when his ship temporarily ran aground and was set upon by a fire raft. With minimal damage to his ships, Farragut passed the forts and could move unmolested to New Orleans. The Confederate troops within the forts were now cut off from the city and rendered useless by Farragut’s passage. They faced inevitable capture from the Union infantry and marines now occupying the city. The Confederacy now owned a small stretch of the Mississippi River from Baton Rouge to Vicksburg. New Orleans, with its commercial access to Europe and Mexico, became an occupied city for the rest of the war.

McClellan Takes Command

As soon as the defeated and shamed Union soldiers streamed back into the capital after Bull Run, Lincoln began a search for another commander. The brightest star on the horizon seemed to be the man the press called “Young Napoleon,” George B. McClellan (see Figure 10-2). A West Point graduate and a veteran of the Mexican War, McClellan had resigned to become a railroad president. At the beginning of the war, he obtained a commission as a Major General. In 1861, he organized and trained about 20,000 troops in Ohio rather quickly and moved them into the hills of northwest Virginia (now West Virginia) to protect the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, the strategic line of supply and communication connecting the east to the Midwest.

McClellan succeeded in driving off Confederate forces west of the Allegheny Mountains with low casualties and inflicting severe losses on the unfortunate, untrained Confederate defenders. McClellan had set the military conditions for the political actions that would eventually result in the creation of West Virginia. Skillfully using the press to play up an important but rather minor victory, McClellan became the most popular name around.

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President Lincoln summoned McClellan to Washington and gave him command of the dispirited forces in and around the capital. McClellan set to the task with energy and enthusiasm, displaying a remarkable talent for training and organization. He reorganized supply and administration practices and drilled the troops into a disciplined fighting force numbering 130,000. He also gave the army a name: the Army of the Potomac.

McClellan loved his men, and they returned that affection. Whenever the 34-year-old dapper, diminutive General appeared on his dark horse, they cheered him with great gusto. They affectionately called him “Little Mac.” He seemed to enjoy his army so much that he had no plans to use it other than for splendid parades and reviews. With the retirement of General Winfield Scott, McClellan also assumed the job as general-in-chief of all Union armies. “I can do it all,” he bragged.

The Political Price of Failure and Inaction

In October 1861, McClellan sent a few regiments up the Potomac to investigate reports of Confederate units moving near Leesburg, Virginia. At a place called Ball’s Bluff, the detachment met disaster: Nearly 900 men were killed, wounded, or missing. Among the dead was Colonel Edward Baker, a former senator from Oregon and a personal friend of the president. As the bodies of dead Union soldiers drifted on the Potomac past Washington, Congress established a special joint committee to supervise the conduct of the war. The politicians would have their say in how McClellan would run his war.

Lincoln, pressed by public opinion to do something, wanted to see McClellan actually “do it all.” All the president’s requests for plans were rebuffed. In desperation, Commander-in-Chief Lincoln even published his own “War Order No. 1” in January 1862, ordering McClellan to move his army, which hadn’t moved since Bull Run, against the Confederate force still sitting outside Washington. McClellan simply ignored the order. Beguiled and flattered by all the attention of the Washington political establishment, McClellan was in no hurry to leave his comfortable quarters just blocks from the White House for the rigors of the field. He was also dismissive of Lincoln’s plan. General Joseph Johnston had been sitting outside Manassas for months and had well-established defenses. McClellan believed that it would be the height of foolishness to play into the Confederate’s hands and conduct a direct attack. Nevertheless, McClellan realized that he must move the Army of the Potomac in spring. He gave in to Lincoln’s request finally and briefed the president on his plan to end the war.

The Peninsula: A New Campaign

McClellan’s plan was to bypass Johnston’s defenses near Manassas and do an end run to capture Richmond before Johnston could react. He proposed to use a similar approach that had worked so well in the West — combine naval power with land maneuvering. Looking southeast of Washington, McClellan proposed to move his army by ships to Fort Monroe at Hampton Roads. The Union-controlled fort sat at the tip of a peninsula that led directly to Richmond (see Figure 10-3). Bordered by the York River on the north and the James River on the south, this was historic territory. On this peninsula was the site of Jamestown, the first permanent English settlement in the New World; nearby was Yorktown, the site of George Washington’s victory against the British that ensured American independence; and Williamsburg, once the colonial capital, now a sleepy, forgotten village. Armies had marched and fought here before. The peninsula had played an important part in the American experience. It would do so again. McClellan was supremely confident that he could move the 90 miles up the peninsula to Richmond, his flanks protected by gunboats, faster than Johnston could respond.

Lincoln was not so sure about this plan. He began poking holes in it immediately. What if Johnston moved on Washington instead of retreating to Richmond? With McClellan’s army gone, wouldn’t the capital be defenseless? McClellan must certainly have done some tap dancing, trying to convince the president that he really hadn’t intended to ignore the seat of government and leave it defenseless. Lincoln allowed McClellan to sweat a bit. He was tired of McClellan’s overblown ego and delays, but he had a great deal of political capital tied up in the “Young Napoleon.” Lincoln approved McClellan’s campaign plan with two important modifications: Sufficient forces must be left in Washington to defend the capital, and a force must be sent to Manassas to keep Johnston from heading toward the capital once McClellan left.

The Army of the Potomac reached Fort Monroe near the end of March and was ready to advance up the peninsula. Almost immediately, McClellan’s plan began to fall apart. About the same time McClellan had landed his army, Lincoln discovered that McClellan had ignored his conditions. There was not, in Lincoln’s mind, sufficient force to protect the capital. The numbers of troops in the capital was sizeable, but Lincoln was not confident they were sufficient. He ordered the Secretary of War to retain an entire corps of McClellan’s army (commanded by McDowell) to remain in Washington and not join McClellan as had been planned. What had concerned Lincoln was the appearance of a Confederate army led by Stonewall Jackson near Winchester, Virginia, just a few days’ march from Washington (see Chapter 13). In Washington, no one knew how big Jackson’s army was or what it intended to do. It appeared that Lincoln’s fears were becoming reality. Therefore, McDowell stayed.

Another event upset his plan. The navy was to provide protection for McClellan as his army marched up the peninsula. But the Confederates, getting wind of the plan, had built batteries along both rivers to prevent the gunboats’ passage; in addition, the Confederates had played hell with the Union navy at Hampton Roads with a new ironclad vessel that was impervious to cannon fire and had wrecked several warships (see “A New Chapter in Naval Warfare: The Ironclad” later in this chapter). The army, at least initially, was on its own, and in McClellan’s mind, without sufficient manpower to succeed. McClellan, with 100,000 men, believed he faced a Confederate army of at least 100,000 near Yorktown. In reality, the Confederate force was 10,000 at best, but through trickery and aggressive actions, they gave McClellan the impression that they were much stronger. McClellan was also inclined to believe he was faced with significant enemy strength. He received information from the Pinkerton Detective Service, which was serving as Union intelligence collectors. It passed on fantastic stories of tens of thousands of Confederate troops in the area. McClellan, naturally cautious, now became even more careful.

A New Chapter in Naval Warfare: The Ironclad

In April 1861, after Fort Sumter, Union navy personnel hurriedly attempted to destroy its most important facility in Norfolk, Virginia, to prevent it from falling in the hands of the newly seceded state of Virginia. The group botched the job badly, and Confederate troops recovered vast amounts of ammunition, cannon, stores, repair facilities, and machinery. Also recovered was the scuttled (sunk) steam-powered warship, the Merrimack . The Confederate naval department knew very well that breaking the blockade was their prime mission. Necessity being the mother of invention in this case, an engineer proposed that the Confederacy build a fleet of armored ships. These ships, protected from cannon fire, would patrol the Southern coastline and chase off Union ships, making the blockade ineffective.

The idea of building a few armored ships, called ironclads, was radical to say the least, but because the South had no navy and wasn’t about to build anything to match the Union fleet, the idea was quickly accepted. The design was for a ship that had a pointed bow for ramming, a shallow draft (it floated in shallow water), and a wood casemate (resembling a blockhouse) with sharply slanting sides covered with iron on top of a deck that just barely cleared the waterline. Several heavy cannons would be mounted in the casemate.

Before long, the engineers decided that the Merrimack, now recovered from the muck of the harbor, would serve as an ideal base for an ironclad. When construction began in May, it became obvious that the ship’s engine was less than satisfactory. In fact, the engine was scheduled to be completely replaced before the ship had been scuttled. The time spent in the water didn’t help much. A new engine was impossible; the Confederacy had no means to build one. So they made do with what they had. Even finding enough iron to use as armor was difficult. Work on the ship went on around the clock. By mid-February 1862, she was given a new crew and recommissioned the CSS Virginia. She had ten cannons, housed in a 24-inch oak casemate with 4 inches of armor plate.

Washington panics!

In the North, the news of the Confederate monster ship was out. Fears arose quickly along the East Coast. Mayors of major cities imagined horrible scenes of destruction as the Confederate monster churned into harbors laying waste to Union shipping. Washington, too, felt naked and undefended. It was just a short trip up the Potomac from Norfolk. The monster ship could park near Georgetown and shell the Capitol and the White House! Given such fears, it is not surprising to discover that the normal peacetime bureaucratic hurdles involved in approving money for military procurement magically disappeared. A board was appointed to review design plans for an ironclad ship and approve immediate construction.

John Ericsson, a Swedish-born engineer, had an ironclad ship design already in hand. It was a radical new design, incorporating several design innovations, was given the go ahead. Actually Ericsson was none too popular with the U.S. Navy. Years earlier, Ericsson had been awarded a contract to design a new naval cannon. During its initial test in 1844, the gun exploded, killing the Secretary of State and several others who had come out to watch the test. Only a crisis such as the one the Union faced in 1861 could have brought Ericsson back into the government’s good graces. The stakes were indeed very high, and his design was quite radical. The ship was essentially an armored raft with most of its hull underwater and pointed at both ends. Its deck floating less than a foot above the waterline, the ship had a small armored box at one end just big enough for the pilot’s head and shoulders so he could see to steer the ship. At the other end was a low smokestack. In the center was a flat rotating cylinder containing two large naval cannons. The ship was completed in record time in New York and commissioned the USS Monitor .

The Virginia goes hunting

On March 8, 1862, the Virginia set out on her first cruise. There was no time for a shakedown — the Virginia was going into battle against the Union fleet at Hampton Roads. The crew, in fact, had no time to become acquainted with the ship. Up until the very last hour, workers were still onboard. Once underway, the ship’s critical weakness soon became apparent. The engine could only produce about 5 knots, and she steered very awkwardly; it took 30 to 40 minutes just to turn.

When the Union fleet realized the Virginia was coming to them, there was a great panic. One sailor described her as a “half-submerged crocodile.” Ships scattered, three running aground trying to escape. The USS Cumberland was not so lucky. It was a powerful ship for its time — but its time had passed. In less than an hour, the Virginia had rammed and sunk the Cumberland after blasting huge holes in its hull with its heavy guns. The cannons of the Cumberland had no effect at all on the Virginia . The USS Congresswas next. The ship’s crew fought valiantly but was no match for the ironclad. The Virginia’s gunfire was so effective that the Congress struck its colors and surrendered. It was soon a blazing hulk. With darkness falling, the Virginia began what appeared to be a leisurely trip back to Norfolk. She had proven herself. The next day would bring the destruction of the Union navy at Hampton Roads.

Just as the Virginia retired, the Monitor arrived after a treacherous, problem-plagued voyage. It was her initial trial as well. She anchored near the USS Minnesota, the most likely target for the Confederate ironclad the next day. There was nothing more for her crew to do but make what repairs they could and await dawn.

The Monitor versus the Virginia

The next morning, the Virginia appeared again, heading straight for the Minnesota . The Virginia’s captain ignored what at first appeared to be a floating piece of iron junk. But as the Monitor slipped close by, rotated its turret and fired a near point-blank shot, it became obvious that the Virginiahad a fight on its hands. The Monitor was far more maneuverable than the Virginia , and the two circled each other, blasting away, neither causing any noticeable damage to the other. Because the guns didn’t seem to work, each attempted unsuccessfully to ram and disable the other ship. As the battle went on, both ships experienced a host of mechanical problems, but the Virginia had the most trouble, leaking badly and displaying a noticeable crack in her armor. The Virginia did get a shot off at the pilothouse, severely wounding the pilot and causing the Monitor to drift away uncontrolled. Thinking she had won a decisive victory, the Virginia made her way slowly toward home. By the time the Monitor’s officers regained control, the Virginiahad steamed away. After more than four hours of fighting, both ships were glad to be done for the day, each believing it had won.

March 9, 1862, was a historic day in the history of naval warfare. Wooden ships such as the Congress , the Minnesota , and the Cumberland were obsolete. The industrial age had created a new ship that would serve as a model for warships throughout the 20th century. From this point on, warships all over the world would be designed incorporating armor and a rotating turret. The steel navy was born.

McClellan Is Fooled at Yorktown

Beginning in April 1862, McClellan inched his way toward Yorktown with the intention of laying siege to the defenses there. For a full month, he waited while his troops dug elaborate trenches and gun emplacements and heavy artillery and mortars capable of blasting the Confederate entrenchments to bits were laboriously hauled up narrow roads. By the 4th of May, McClellan was prepared to initiate his grand siege. There was only one problem: The Confederates had quietly left their defenses the night before.

The other Johnston

Joseph E. Johnston (no relation to Albert Sidney Johnston, killed at Shiloh) was 55 years old and as a Brigadier General, one of the highest-ranking officers in the U.S. Army to resign to join the South (see Figure 10-4). Johnston was a capable and courageous soldier but a man of pride. He resented Jefferson Davis for making him only the fourth highest-ranking General in the Confederate army. Of course, he thought he deserved better, and this belief poisoned his relationship with Davis, to the detriment of the cause. Davis appreciated Johnston’s considerable talents, but the president grew exasperated with Johnston’s constant criticism of his decisions and attacks on the government’s conduct of the war. Nevertheless, Davis charged Johnston with the responsibility for dealing with the Union offensive.

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Lincoln takes Norfolk

On May 6, 1862, just after the fighting at Williamsburg had ended, President Lincoln arrived at Fort Monroe to get an assessment of the situation and to find out why McClellan was taking so long to do anything. Lincoln had requested that McClellan meet him at the fort, but McClellan refused, claiming he was at the front and too busy to meet his Commander-in-Chief. Lincoln, with time on his hands, asked why the Union army and navy had not seized Norfolk. No one had thought of that yet, so Lincoln ordered that the city be taken. He energized the navy to initiate a bombardment of Confederate forts, and he personally supervised the reconnaissance of possible landing sites for the army. The city was abandoned on May 9.

Johnston advances

By the time McClellan’s army had begun its creeping pace up the peninsula, Johnston’s army had also arrived on the peninsula. He had more than enough time to establish a relatively strong defensive position near Yorktown. But nothing happened, because McClellan took so much time in making siege preparations at Yorktown that Johnston was able to meet with Confederate President Davis and his advisors to plot out a defensive strategy. Although Johnston had argued for a defense in front of the Confederate capital of Richmond, he was overruled in favor of a defense further down the peninsula.

After Johnston abandoned the Yorktown defenses, McClellan declared Yorktown a victory and began a slow, rain-hampered slog up the peninsula to catch Johnston. Johnston held off the pursuit at Williamsburg, where a sharp fight resulted in about 3,800 casualties for both sides but accomplished nothing more than allowing Johnston to continue his retreat. Union forces did gain an important victory at Norfolk, where Confederate forces abandoned the city after Johnston’s army withdrew from Williamsburg. The Confederates also destroyed the Norfolk navy yard, which had been under their control since Virginia had seceded. In the process, the Confederate ironclad, the CSS Virginia, was also destroyed. Not only did the U.S. Navy own all of Hampton Roads, but also the James River was now open nearly up to Richmond. The Union navy could now provide support for McClellan’s army.

Both armies dragged their way up the peninsula to Richmond, slogging their way through constant rain that saturated the ground, made a muddy paste of the dirt roads, and swelled the rivers to overflowing. Johnston, with 60,000 men, returned to the capital without having fought a major battle, in direct contradiction to Davis’s instructions. Right behind him were McClellan’s 100,000 soldiers. A Union flotilla attempting to reach Richmond on May 15 was halted at Drewry’s Bluff, less than 10 miles outside the city. The crew of the lost ironclad Virginia served the guns that stopped the Yankee ships.

The Presidents versus the Generals

Davis and Johnston waged a quiet battle of wills over what to do next. Davis pressed for action to drive McClellan away from Richmond, but while Johnston agreed that action was necessary, he wanted to launch an attack only if it would be decisive. They could afford to hold these chats — McClellan had halted his army and, convinced that Johnston’s army had now grown to 200,000 men, bombarded Washington with requests for reinforcements.

McClellan blamed Lincoln for taking McDowell’s corps away from him at the start of the campaign. He pushed, begged, and squawked until Lincoln gave in and ordered McDowell to move to Fredericksburg, about halfway between Richmond and Washington, to reinforce McClellan. Lincoln thought he could release McDowell for two reasons:

Stonewall Jackson’s army (for the moment) had disappeared and was no longer considered a threat to the capital

McClellan was so close to winning the war that the arrival of McDowell’s corps would be the event to push him into action.

However, the president was wrong on both counts.

McClellan before Richmond

By the end of May, the Army of the Potomac was entrenching itself 6 miles from Richmond, occupying a broad front from the James River to the south, up to the Pamunkey River in the north. Union ships controlled both rivers, and McClellan had his main supply base at White House on the Pamunkey. Bisecting this front was another river, the Chickahominy. Usually fairly shallow and very sluggish, the Chickahominy bordered White Oak Swamp. The rains throughout May had turned the normally placid river into a fast-moving, muddy monster, washing out bridges and spilling over her banks. McClellan had placed his army on either side of the Chickahominy. Tactically, this caused problems — if one part of the army was attacked, the Chickahominy would serve as a barrier preventing the other part of the army to come to its aid. The Young Napoleon had just halved the strength of his army and gave Joe Johnston the opportunity to launch the decisive attack he had been looking for.