Part VII

The Part of Tens

In this part . . .

Every ...For Dummies book includes The Part of Tens — a group of chapters, each of which contains ten or so important pieces of information. Because the Civil War still stirs strong emotions, these chapters deal with topics people always argue about when discussing the Civil War. Even in close-knit families, discussions of these topics will lead to all kinds of hurt feelings and grudges. Get a Northerner and a Southerner involved and you’ll have a real shouting match in no time. Even scholars will get into heated debates over these topics, if they are so inclined.

The following issues have served as points of discussions ever since the last shot of the Civil War was fired. The questions are never settled and the answers never satisfactory — but it sure is fun to do anyway. Feel free to raise these points when you want to get a lively discussion going — just don’t blame me when the fur starts to fly.

Chapter 29

In This Chapter:

The most mistake-prone leaders of armies

The oblivious strategists and planners

The poorest combat officers

S ome officers appear born to lead men, while others — well, they succeed in accomplishing nothing except large casualty lists. I’m not saying that poor Generals are necessarily men of bad character or have evil intent. They are just unfortunate enough to be put in places of great authority and responsibility and do not have the abilities to do what needs to be done. The bad Generals of good character usually know they are in over their heads and have the good sense to remove themselves from command. The truly bad Generals are those whose egos are so great that their careers are more important than anything else. They will persist in bumbling around and getting men killed for nothing. They are still around, folks — to the eternal regret of good soldiers everywhere.

Appearance is no indicator of a good General — even though most of the guys on this list more often than not looked like Generals. On the other hand, Grant and Sherman hardly look like Generals, but they performed far beyond what most people believed they could do. The selections here are based on continuous bad leadership, a conspicuous display of ineptitude in war, and the amount of ill will they inspired among their troops and subordinates.

Braxton Bragg (1817–1876)

Bragg’s greatest failure as a commander was his personality. He was a very good planner and organizer, and a man of excellent character. But his plans usually had no purpose, and he had no concept of campaigning, especially in knowing to what strategic purpose his battles were leading. Usually Bragg lost his focus either just before of just after a battle, leaving his subordinates to decide for themselves what they were supposed to do.

This problem was compounded by Bragg’s inability to deal with others. As a result, he found that his orders were almost never carried out properly. He had almost no friends — none except the one who counted most — President Jefferson Davis. When everyone else had lost patience with the argumentative and carping Bragg, Davis always sided with his friend. Bragg, therefore, could continue in his ways. In combat, this often meant frontal assaults on strongly defended positions and a dogmatic attachment to a plan already rendered useless by changing events.

Nathaniel P. Banks (1816–1894)

Banks fought the entire war without contributing much to the Union cause. A member of Congress and former governor of Massachusetts, and president of the Illinois Central Railroad before the war, Banks was an essential player on the Republican team. This translated into a general’s commission and command. He was beaten in the Shenandoah Valley repeatedly in 1862, becoming the negative example of what not to do as a General. He became known among the Confederate troops as “Commissary Banks” for his army’s habit of leaving behind its supply trains and depots when beaten. Jackson seemed to have had Banks’s number. At Cedar Mountain, Jackson again took him to task. This ended Bank’s contribution to the Union cause in the Eastern Theater.

After a short stint guarding Washington, Banks went south to Louisiana to clear Port Hudson in support of Grant’s move against Vicksburg. Banks made such a mess of this maneuver that he was all but useless. In 1864, Banks was selected to move against General Kirby Smith’s forces in the Trans-Mississippi up the Red River. With a formidable army and navy force, Banks made a haphazard and slow movement up the river where his army was defeated at Sabine Cross Roads, losing more than 2,500 men. The campaign was a fiasco from beginning to end — he could not coordinate with the navy or other army commanders. At the end of the campaign, Congress conducted an investigation of the mess. After the war, Banks returned to Congress, where perhaps his skills were better served.

Ambrose E. Burnside (1824–1881)

Burnside, he of the luxurious sideburns and whiskers, stood 6 feet tall and was an imposing figure in his uniform, sash, and sword. Alas, the handsome General was a better recruiting poster than he was a commander. Burnside had the good fortune to experience modest success when all other Union Generals were falling on their faces. In 1862, he had captured some sand on the coast of North Carolina. While the troops remained behind to battle sand fleas and mosquitoes, Burnside joined his friend General George McClellan with the Army of the Potomac. At Antietam (see Chapter 14), Burnside, with nearly a third of the entire army available to him, was unable to solve the basic tactical problem of crossing a bridge under fire. It took him nearly all day, and when he was within striking distance of victory, his attack fell apart when General A.P. Hill arrived to drive him off.

In the aftermath of the Antietam mess, Lincoln selected Burnside for command of the army. Burnside, to his credit, pleaded with the president to select someone else. He was not up to the job, he told Lincoln. But he took it anyway, and he led the army to its greatest defeat at Fredricksburg in December 1862. About a month later, Burnside attempted a flanking march around Lee’s army that quickly bogged down in the winter rains to the point that Burnside had to call the operation off and return the men to winter quarters. From then on it was known as the “Mud March,” and it marked the all-time low point of the army’s morale. Burnside soon disappeared into the bowels of Ohio, commanding a military department that would cause no one harm. But Burnside found a way, harassing the obnoxious anti-war politician Clement Valandingham and causing the Lincoln administration endless headaches.

Burnside returned to the Army of the Potomac in 1864 and took command of a corps that included several regiments of U.S. Colored Troops. He squandered many of these troops in the disaster at the Crater in the summer of 1864. From then on, Grant was careful to keep Burnside as far away from the important action as possible. Burnside was a poor planner, an inept commander, and unimaginative in the application of the military art. Yet he looked good in uniform, had a pleasant personality, and wore a winning smile. He translated all of this into a brilliant post-war political career, serving as governor and then senator of the state of Rhode Island.

John B. Hood (1831–1879)

Hood actually doesn’t belong in this chapter completely. Up until 1864, Hood was one of the Confederacy’s best division commanders. As a combat leader, he was superb and his reputation as a fighter only grew as time went on. His Texas Brigade was one of Lee’s elite fighting units, and Hood was always in the midst of his unit in the most brutal fighting of the early years of the war. He was such an inspiring leader that the men would chant his name as they advanced into battle. Hood soon became a division commander in General Longstreet’s I Corps. As a division commander, he still displayed the fire and aggressiveness that had made him a great combat leader. His troops spearheaded the attack on the second day at Gettysburg (see Chapter 18). There he was wounded in the arm, losing the use of the limb. But that did not stop him. He was soon back in action, and led Longstreet’s attack at Chickamauga (see Chapter 19). He was wounded in the leg and had the limb amputated. Even this did not slow him down; promoted to Lieutenant General, Hood took command of the Army of Tennessee in 1864.

Now the tide turns to Hood as one of the worst Generals of the Civil War. Hood was a brilliant officer at the brigade and division levels, but he had no business commanding an army. The command responsibilities are different, and the demands are greater. Hood throughout the war had depended on courage and violent assault to overwhelm the enemy. While that tactic can work well at the brigade level, it is much less effective at the division, corps, and army level. Success at the brigade level in this war depended on personal courage and direct assaults to capture small pieces of terrain. At the division, corps, and army level, war is much more complex and requires attention to more sophisticated skills, such as deception, maneuver, proper use of cavalry and artillery, and the design of a campaign. Hood’s scope of vision was far too narrow, and his battle management skills, above brigade level, were ter-rible. Hood could only use his army as a giant brigade. Hood never overcame his limitations. Hood also dabbled in political backdoor deals, influencing President Davis, who greatly admired Hood’s courage and battlefield leadership, to select him as the new commander of the Army of Tennessee.

Hood’s command of the Army of Tennessee was an unmitigated disaster. When the situation called for finesse and maneuver, Hood made costly frontal assaults that wasted his army’s strength and sapped its morale. He battered himself into impotence outside of Atlanta and ignored his enemy’s capabilities at the most crucial time in the Confederacy’s life when the nation’s fate lay in the hands of Northern votes who would reject Lincoln and the war and sue for peace. Instead, Sherman was able to take the city just in time to make a decisive turn in the Republican’s political fortunes.

Hood then destroyed his army in a series of bizarre and foolish frontal assaults on well entrenched Union troops at Franklin and Nashville. His tactical ineptness, one-dimensional planning, and dull-witted reactions destroyed the Army of Tennessee more surely than Union bullets and shells did. Hood’s formula for success, the spirited assault, was no longer of any use by 1864, yet he never learned, ordering the same assaults over and over again. Hood resigned from the army and returned to Texas, a man who had given the Confederacy so much — but who also took so much away.

John B. Floyd (1806–1863)

Floyd served as James Buchanan’s secretary of war, and became a Brigadier General after joining the Confederacy. Accused of some sneaky tactics as secretary of war (such as fraud and stockpiling weapons in Federal arsenals in the South just before secession), Floyd displayed similar double-dealing in his-one-and-only moment of importance. Floyd played an important role in allowing McClellan to become the Young Napoleon when Floyd mismanaged the defense of western Virginia (now West Virginia).

Transferred to Kentucky, he was later assigned as commander of Fort Donelson in Tennessee. Floyd so mismanaged the garrison and its defense that he all but allowed Grant to capture it without a fight. Floyd was no General; he was, in fact, a coward. Essentially giving the order every man for himself, he escaped from the fort. The fall of Donelson was a significant strategic blow to the Confederacy in the Western Theater and set Grant on the path to military glory. Davis wisely relieved him from any command responsibilities and placed him in a position in Virginia where he would do no harm. Floyd’s death in 1863 passed largely unnoticed.

Ben F. Butler (1818–1893)

Men such as Butler, a Massachusetts Democrat who supported the war, were crucial to Lincoln’s war coalition. Butler was a prominent member of the state government and was appointed a brigadier general of volunteers. His unit clashed with demonstrators, opening the rail lines to the capital and earning a major general’s appointment from the president. Butler went on to have a disproportionate influence on the war than anyone intended. Butler was an ineffective troop commander. When faced with anything more than token opposition, he always lost the battle. Butler’s modest advance up the Virginia peninsula from Fort Monroe in 1861 was sharply turned back, but he did gain some undeserved notoriety as a strategist for capturing Hatteras Inlet in North Carolina. Butler is credited with giving the title of “contraband” to runaway slaves who entered Union lines. Butler reasoned that because they were still property under the Constitution, he could legally refer to them as captured war material, or contraband, applying the legal term for such items.

By May 1862, Butler served as the military governor of New Orleans after its capture by the Union Navy. Butler governed the city competently, but at the same time, ensured that he, his political cronies, and his family benefited handsomely. Southerners called him “Spoons” Butler for allegedly stealing the silver from the house he had taken over as his headquarters. He made himself thoroughly unpopular and was recalled in December 1862 (another great General, Nathaniel Banks, replaced him).

In 1863, Butler became commander of the Army of the James and was included in Grant’s overall strategy for conquering Virginia in 1864. Butler performed so ineptly that he maneuvered his two corps into a neck of land on the James River that allowed the Confederates to entrench across and sew him up as tight as a hatband. Butler’s troops were useless to Grant for much of the campaign. Butler also mismanaged attacks at Petersburg and Fort Fisher, but his political influence was such that Grant could not get rid of him until Lincoln’s re-election was secured. Grant promptly sent him home to await orders. Butler became a member of Congress in 1866, serving more than a decade. He later became governor of Massachusetts and ran unsuccessfully for president in 1884.

Leonidas (Bishop) Polk (1806–1864)

Polk was another of Jefferson Davis’s favorites and a man who achieved high rank quickly without demonstrating competence. An Episcopal bishop before the war, Polk gave up his position to become first a Major General in 1861, then Lieutenant General in 1862. Polk had the air of a man who always knew better than his commanding officer. By 1862, Polk had responsibility for the defense of a large part of the Western Theater. He was a fair to good organizer, but a less-than-competent commander. He made the probably fatal error of violating Kentucky’s neutrality, which led directly to the Union taking control of the upper Mississippi and western Tennessee.

As a high-ranking General, Polk had to be given significant command. Usually the command was far too great a responsibility for his capabilities. Although a man of great physical courage (he led four assaults against Union defenses at Shiloh (see Chapter 9), Polk was beyond his depth as a corps commander, and it showed in his often flawed battle performances at Perryville, Murfreesboro, and Chickamauga. (See Chapters 15, 16, and 19.) In each case, he interpreted his orders broadly as he saw fit, moved too slowly, or squandered opportunities. He also spent time helping Davis play the commander roulette game in the Western Theater, providing advice on the best men suited to take over the Army of Tennessee.

When an artillery shell killed Polk during the 1864 Atlanta Campaign (one of the most improbable cannon shots in the war), Jefferson Davis called it the Confederacy’s greatest loss since Stonewall Jackson; in reality, Polk was mourned more for his qualities as a man than as a soldier.

Joseph Hooker (1814–1879)

No one thought higher of himself as a combat commander than Joe Hooker. And no one displayed less ability. He seemed to have hit his peak as a Captain, earning a reputation for bravery and personal leadership during the Mexican War. In 1862, Hooker emerged from civilian obscurity to gain a Brigadier General’s commission (West Point graduates were especially valued early in the war and given high ranks to entice them back into the service). He gained political support within the Lincoln cabinet from Salmon P. Chase and became a standout in the highly politicized Army of the Potomac. But he had some serious negatives — he was known as a heavy drinker and a womanizer; he also had something of a mean streak when dealing with higher-ranking officers.

Hooker led a division and then a corps competently during some of the Army of the Potomac’s most terrible battles in 1862, and used his modest success as a battlefield commander (the newspapers erroneously called him “Fighting Joe” Hooker) to lobby against Ambrose Burnside remaining in command after the debacle at Fredricksburg. Given a chance to take command of the Army of the Potomac, he did with relish and aplomb. His headquarters was known to be a rather wide-open place where a lot more than military planning went on. His campaign plan against Richmond in the spring of 1863 was sound on paper, but what would make it work would be the skill of the commander, not empty boasts. The army’s defeat at Chancellorsville cemented the reputations of Lee and Jackson as great combat leaders; it ruined Hooker’s. He was completely ineffective in command and lost his nerve. As Lee moved North, Hooker seemed bewildered and slow to react.

Lincoln removed him from command before he could do more harm. He was transferred to the Western Theater along with the XI and XII Corps to support Grant. Hooker took command of the two corps, now combined and renamed the XX Corps. He and his troops performed adequately at Chattanooga, and his command did well during the Atlanta Campaign, but he quarreled with Sherman over who would take command of the Army of the Tennessee after McPherson’s death in 1864. Hooker fully expected to be named the commander because he was next in line in seniority. Sherman would have nothing of seniority and selected a more able subordinate. Hooker asked to be relieved and Sherman quickly acceded to his request. Hooker spent the rest of the war in anonymity, retiring from the army in 1868.

John Pope (1822–1892)

Like many other officers in the Union Army in the Eastern Theater, John Pope was given one chance to be a great General. Like some others, his flaws in combat leadership and inability to command at higher levels doomed him to failure when he was counted on the most to succeed. Pope had the good fortune to begin the Civil War as a Captain and a relative to President Lincoln’s wife. He found himself a Brigadier General very quickly and demonstrated some competence in the Western Theater, capturing key Confederate redoubts on the Mississippi River in 1862. He was promoted to Major General and became part of Halleck’s tortoise-slow approach to Corinth after Shiloh (see Chapter 9).

Pope had his chance when he was moved to the Eastern Theater to take command of a new army, the Army of Virginia being formed to defend Washington in the wake of McClellan’s disappointing Peninsula Campaign. Early on, Pope deluded himself into believing he understood the strategic and tactical situation better than anyone else did. He made bombastic statements and grandiose declarations about how he was going to change things in Virginia. These statements were so obnoxious that he earned the disdain of enemies and friends. Pope earned additional ire by deciding to make war on the people of the South, a shocking concept at the time, but one that became the centerpiece of Grant’s grand strategy of 1864–1865.

As a field commander, Pope made the fatal error of believing his concept of the situation was the only concept. Every commander must make certain assumptions about the enemy to plan his campaign. The best Generals are always willing to change their assumptions based on subsequent information they receive. Regardless of any other information that discounted his original viewpoint, Pope only believed what he wanted to believe. For Pope, facing Lee and Jackson, this was a fatal blunder. He was fortunate his army was not entirely destroyed at Second Manassas (see Chapter 13). Pope was hastily transferred to the Northwest, where he operated against American Indians for the rest of the war. He was able to retire as a Major General in 1886.

P.G.T. Beauregard (1818–1893)

Pierre G.T. Beauregard was a General who would come to know well that all glory is fleeting. A West Point graduate, he won honors during the Mexican War, where he was wounded twice in battle. He was one of the first officers to join the new Confederacy, and he found himself commanding South Carolina troops in Charleston Harbor. There he won a deceptively easy victory at Fort Sumter (see Chapter 3) and became the first hero of the new nation. He was also one of the first military men to run afoul of Jefferson Davis. Nicknamed “The Little Napoleon” and “The Little Creole,” Beauregard appeared to be destined for great things.

He took command of Confederate forces at Manassas (see Chapter 8) and, after being reinforced by Joseph E. Johnston and his Army of the Shenandoah, won a victory in 1861 in the first major battle of the war. Beauregard displayed limited abilities as a battlefield commander, but shared the spotlight with Johnston who took overall command of the action. Beauregard soon ran into trouble with Confederate President Jefferson Davis, who disliked the Louisianan’s prideful, confident manner. Davis sent him away to the Western Theater as a full General to serve as Albert Sidney Johnston’s second-in-command. At Shiloh (see Chapter 9), Beauregard again displayed his limitations as an army commander when he took over for Johnston and made some seriously flawed decisions that led directly to the Confederate army being driven from the field on the second day. After the battle he went on sick leave without Davis’s permission. The president took advantage of this minor breach to relieve Beauregard of command in an act of spite that still makes little sense.

Until 1864, Beauregard was the commander of Confederate forces guarding the coastline from South Carolina to Florida. He oversaw the defense of Charleston against Union naval and infantry attacks. Later, he took command of Confederate forces protecting Lee’s vulnerable right flank and the strategic supply lines to Richmond and the Army of Northern Virginia. Beauregard did get the best of General Ben Butler, trapping his army at Bermuda Hundred (see Chapter 20) after defeating him at Drewry’s Bluff (a victory, but no one would ever claim Ben Butler was much of an opponent). With a very limited force, Beauregard managed to contain the initial Union attacks on Petersburg until Lee could reposition his army. It was a brilliant effort and certainly Beauregard’s finest moment as a commander. After Lee arrived in Petersburg, Beauregard found himself without a job. He ended up as the commander of the Western Theater, but after Hood’s spectacular failure, he essentially had no troops to command. He then served as second in command of Joseph E. Johnston’s in North Carolina until the end of the war. After the war, he gained infamy as the Louisiana Lottery supervisor.

George B. McClellan (1826–1885): Honorable Mention

George B. McClellan was, undoubtedly, the best organizer and manager of military operations in the American army until World War II. But as a battlefield commander, McClellan was completely ineffective. McClellan also had a very high regard for his own destiny and often saw field command as something he had to do to fulfill a greater calling. After winning some minor but highly publicized engagements in Western Virginia, he became convinced that he was the man to save the Republic, a notion he never let go of throughout the war. He became known as “The Young Napoleon,” and displayed a masterful understanding of politics in Washington.

McClellan almost single-handedly created the Army of the Potomac and then defied anyone to force him into using it for anything other than parades and drill. He was much loved by the soldiers, who called him “Little Mac.”

McClellan always had good plans; he just did not have the will or the ability to direct them. Essentially, he hated to see his soldiers killed or hurt. He could not stand to see his beautiful instrument tarnished. He shrunk from battle and physically withdrew from the fields where his men were fighting. Partly because of his reluctance to fight, he tended to believe reports that he was outnumbered. This created a sense of caution that was nearly paralytic. Inevitably, when his plans went poorly, he blamed everyone — the War Department, Lincoln, and Stanton. During the Antietam campaign (see Chapter 14), he had the opportunity to end the war in the Eastern Theater, but could not overcome his reluctance to bring the army to battle. In the attack, McClellan lacked resolve; in the defense, McClellan only looked for escape. Lee built his reputation on the irresolution of George McClellan.

The man of destiny was relieved from command after Antietam, and he returned to New Jersey, expecting a call to return to command that never came. But a different kind of call came via the Democratic Party in 1864. He became its presidential candidate, but had trouble reconciling his desire for victory with the party’s plank calling for an end to the war. Despite this, he might have won if not for key Union victories, especially Atlanta that gave the North hope that the war could be won. He continued to be active in politics, serving as governor of New Jersey from 1878 to 1881.