Grant Comes East - Civil War 02 Read online

  Grant Comes East - Civil War 02

  Book Jacket

  Series: Civil War [2]

  Tags: Alternative History

  SUMMARY:

  In their runaway bestseller Gettysburg, Newt Gingrich and William Forstchen answered the Civil War's ultimate hypothetical question: What if Lee's army had won the victory within its grasp at Gettysburg in 1863? Now, through the same extraordinary research and brilliant character studies, we take the next step of a provocative journey: The Army of Northern Virginia is poised to invade Washington, D.C... A besieged Lincoln calls on a general with a drinking problem to save the Union. And in the East, Ulysses Grant faces a storm of calamity and rivalry-and a war on the verge of being lost.... In this extraordinary book, the battlefront and home fronts come alive through the eyes of ordinary soldiers and such little known characters as General Herman Haupt, commander of the U.S. railroads, and the politician turned soldier General Dan Sickles-a political arch-enemy of Grant's. As the best of plans are undone, and every strategy countered by another, GRANT COMES EAST builds to a stunning portrait of the war that was-and the war that might have been....

  Phenomenal praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling authors Newt Gingrich and William R. Forstchen

  GRANT COMES EAST

  "With each book in their ongoing alternate history cycle, Gingrich and Forstchen have gone from strength to strength as storytellers. Unabashedly, this is a work of popular historical fiction; it aspires to entertain, first and foremost, but it has passages of genuine depth and poetry that elevate it above many other specimens of its peculiar subgenre."

  —Charlotte Observer

  "Gingrich and Forstchen have produced a very readable entry into the literature of speculative history. It will be interesting, perhaps even thrilling, to see how the military strategy and political maneuvering plays out in the next installment."

  —Civil War Book Review

  "An exciting alternative history of the Civil War. Character depictions are vivid, detailed, and insightful. One of the best novels of the Civil War to appear in recent years."

  —Publishers Weekly (starred reviews)

  "A good yarn. The authors provide apt historically plausible detail to give substance to the premise. Colorful and imaginative historical fiction."

  —Washington Times

  MORE .

  "The Gingrich and Forstchen 'what-if' take on the Civil War gathers some steam. The battle scenes continue war-lovingly rendered."

  —Kirkus Reviews

  GETTYSBURG

  "Sure to become a Civil War classic to be read and remembered."

  —W.E.B. Griffin, author of Retreat, Hell!

  "Surprisingly plausible, written with compelling narrative force and meticulous detail."

  —The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

  "Gingrich and Forstchen write with authority and with sensitivity"

  —St. Louis Post Dispatch

  "[Gettysburg] is believable and beautifully written... every bit as good as Michael Shaara's The Killer Angels. Not only do Gingrich and Forstchen bring the characters to life, and often horrible death, but they do so with memorable observations on the ways of war and vivid, technically accurate descriptions of frightful Civil War combat."

  —The Courier Journal (Kentucky)

  "An eye-opener... filled with gore, smoke, heat of battle, and a surprise ending. The writing is vivid and clear. A ripping good read."

  —Washington Times

  "Well-executed alternative history. The authors show thorough knowledge of the people, weapons, tactics, and ambience of the Civil War. A veritable feast."

  —Publishers Weekly

  "As historical fiction, this stands beside The Killer Angels. As an alternative history of Gettysburg, it stands alone. The mastery of operational history enables the authors to expand the story's scope. The narrative is so clear that the action can be followed without maps. And the characters are sometimes heartbreakingly true to their historical originals."

  —Dennis Showalter, former president of the Society of Military Historians

  "Gettysburg is a creative, clever, and fascinating 'what if?' novel that promises to excite and entertain America's legions of Civil War buffs."

  —James Carville

  "The novel Gettysburg puts forth a highly plausible and exciting scenario of a Confederate victory in the Pennsylvania campaign of 1863. The authors exhibit an in-depth knowledge of not only technical details, but also the various personalities of the leaders and how they could have reacted had things gone quite differently from history as we know it."

  —Don Troiani, noted Civil War artist

  Grant Comes East

  A Novel of the Civil War

  NEWT GINGRICH WILLIAM R. FORSTCHEN

  ST. MARTIN'S PAPERBACKS

  NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

  GRANT COMES EAST

  Copyright © 2004 by Newt Gingrich and William R. Forstchen.

  Excerpt from Never Call Retreat copyright © 2005 by Newt Gingrich and

  William R. Forstchen.

  Photographs on pages 215, 312, and 482 are courtesy of R. J. Gibson of Gettysburg, and all others are courtesy of Library of Congress.

  Maps on pages 20,57, 333, and 419 and drawings of CSA and US buckles and the US presidential seal are by Carolyn Chu.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number. 2004043894

  ISBN: 0-312-98726-9 EAN: 9780312-98726-8

  Printed in the United States of America

  St. Martin's Griffin edition / June 2005

  St. Martin's Paperbacks edition / April 2006

  St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  10 987654321

  Acknowledgments

  As we said in the acknowledgments to our first book in this series, Gettysburg, our work is an accomplishment built upon the shoulders and work of so many others.

  Special credit, as always, must go to historian Tom LeGore of Carroll County, Maryland. Tom not only guided us through the intricate details of how Gettysburg might have wound up being fought, instead, along the Pipe Creek Line, but has proven to be invaluable in the creation of this work as well.

  General Bob Scales, former commandant of the Army War College, came to the fore with his insightful analysis of what Lee, Grant, Sickles, and Lincoln would have been facing the "day after" a Confederate victory at Gettysburg and had a major influence in the shaping of our scenario.

  Professor Leonard Fullenkamp of the Army War College has, yet again, shown to us his remarkable grasp of the 1863 campaign and offered invaluable help, along with Professor Dennis Showalter, former president of the Society of Military Historians.

  Thanks as well to the brilliant historical artist Don Troiani, not only for his remarkable cover art but for his analysis of our work, and to the historian Steven Sears for his books on Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, which helped to shape our own theories.

  So many others were involved as well. Kathy Lubbers, my (Newt's) daughter, who helped keep us organized and on task in what proved to be a highly complex project and, at times, a physically demanding one as well, especially we were o
ut signing books at Gettysburg in hundred-degree heat. Randy Evans and Rick Tyler of my (Newt's) staff for handling so much of the detail work as well. A tribute as well for Paul Breier and Dr. George Talbot, two dear friends of Bill's, both devotees of history who encouraged him in his work and passed away just as this book was completed.

  While out promoting Gettysburg last summer, we met new friends and were filled with admiration for those devoted to the study of the Civil War. So many of you offered excellent comments, suggestions, and criticisms that helped us in the shaping of this second volume. In particular we'd like to extend our thanks to the team of Hardtack & Wool, a Civil War educational firm that helped us organize the Gettysburg signing event, and the administration of Montreat College, which provided Bill with a year-long sabbatical, in part to research and work on this series. We must also thank the owners and managers of so many bookstores around the country that warmly greeted us and arranged events.

  As always, our fear is that in mentioning some names we fear we might miss others. If we did not mention you here, know that nevertheless we are thankful for your help and support.

  Of course, there are three major acknowledgments ... for our loving wives, Callista, Sharon, and Krys, who allow us time away from home and indulge us in our passion for history.

  Finally, as always, for all those young men of a hundred and forty years past, North and South, who fought and, if need be, gave their lives for the causes they believed in. We believe that such strength and mettle are evident today with the men and women serving our nation on so many distant fronts. The bravery of the line infantry of both sides in the Civil War, the nobility of Lee, and the determination of Grant are clearly evident in those of you standing watch overseas. We are profoundly grateful to all of you, past and present, for your dedication and service to our country.

  Chapter One

  Cairo Illinois

  July 16 1863

  A cold rain swept across the river. To the east, lightning streaked the evening sky, thunder rolling over the white-capped Ohio River.

  The storm had hit with a violent intensity and for a few minutes slowed the work along the docks, but already sergeants were barking orders at the drenched enlisted men while rain-soaked stevedores were urged back to their labors. Dozens of boats lined the quays, offloading men, horses, limber wagons, and field pieces.

  To the eyes of Gen. Herman Haupt, commander of United States military railroads, the sight of these men was reassuring. They were the veterans of the Army of the Tennessee, the victors of the great campaign that had climaxed ten days ago at Vicksburg, a victory that had come simultaneously with what was now seen as the darkest day of the war, the day Lee defeated the Army of the Potomac at Union Mills.

  The soldiers disembarking on the banks of the Ohio were lean and tough, their disciplined, no-nonsense carriage conveying strength and confidence despite their bedraggled, tattered uniforms, faded from rainy marching in the muddy fields of Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, and Tennessee. Headgear was an individual choice. Most wore battered, broad-brimmed hats for protection against hot southern sun and torrential rains. Regulation field packs were gone; most were carrying blanket, poncho, and shelter half in a horseshoe-shaped roll, slung over the left shoulder and tied off at the right hip. Except for the blue of their uniforms, they looked more like their Confederate opponents than the clean, disciplined, orderly ranks Herman Haupt was used to seeing in the East. Few if any would ever have passed inspection with regiments trained by McClellan. These Westerners were rawboned boys from prairie farms in Iowa and Ohio, lumberjacks from Michigan, mechanics from Detroit, and boatmen from the Great Lakes and Midwest rivers. The unending campaigning had marked them as field soldiers. Spit and polish had long ago been left behind at Shiloh and the fever-infested swamps of the bayous along the Mississippi.

  They already knew their mission... pull the defeated Army of the Potomac out of the fire and put the Confederacy in the grave. They came now with confidence, swaggering off the steamboats, forming into ranks, standing at ease while rolls were checked, impervious to the rain and wind, their calmness, to Haupt's mind, a reflection of the man that he now waited for.

  He could see the boat, rounding the cape from the Mississippi River into the Ohio, the light packet moving with speed, cutting a wake, smoke billowing from its twin stacks, sparks snapping heavenward, carried off by the wind following the storm. The flag on the stern mast denoted that an admiral was aboard, but mat was not the man Haupt was waiting for.

  The diminutive side-wheeler, a courier boat built for speed, aimed straight for the dock where Haupt was standing, the port master waving a signal flag to guide it in.

  Haupt looked over at the man accompanying him, Congressman Elihu Washburne, confidant of the president and political mentor of the general on board the boat Elihu, who had joined Haupt only the hour before, was silent, clutching a copy of the Chicago Tribune, out just this morning, its front page reporting the disaster at Union Mills, the advance of Lee's army on Washington, and the riots which had erupted in New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore.

  "I sure as hell am glad I don't have his responsibilities," Elihu sighed as the side-wheeler slowed, paddle wheels shifting into reverse, backing water in a dramatic display by its pilot, who had timed to the second the order to reverse engines.

  Its steam whistle shrieking, the boat edged in toward the dock, half a dozen black stevedores racing along the rough-hewn planks, ready to grab lines tossed by the light packet's crew.

  Ropes snaked out across the water were caught as the boat edged into the dock, brushing against it with a dull thump that snapped through Haupt's feet, the dock swaying on its pilings.

  The stevedores tightened the lines, lashing them down to bollards, and within seconds a gangplank-was run over, slamming down on the deck.

  There was no ceremony or fanfare, no blaring of trumpets, no honor guard racing down the dock and coming to attention with polished rifles. The door to the main cabin swung open and he came out.

  Haupt had never seen this man before but he knew instantly who he was. He was short, grizzled-looking, with an unkempt beard of reddish-brown flecked with gray; his face was deeply sunburned, wrinkled heavily around the eyes, which were deep set and sharp-looking. His dark blue private's four-button coat free of all adornment except for the insignia of rank, which, Haupt quickly noted, was still that of major general in spite of his recent promotion. Slouch hat pulled low against the storm, he came down the gangplank and Haupt came to attention and saluted.

  The general nodded, half saluted, looked over at Elihu, and extended his hand.

  "Congressman, good to see you."

  "General Grant, I'm damn glad to see you," Elihu replied. "This is General Haupt, the man who makes the railroads work."

  Grant looked up at Haupt and nodded.

  "Heard of you. You do good work, General."

  "Thank you, sir, the respect is mutual."

  Grant said nothing, gazing at him appraisingly for a moment. Behind Grant two more men came down the gangplank, and again began the ritual of salutes and introductions to Admiral Porter and General Sherman, who towered over Grant, standing as tall as Haupt, returning his salute without comment

  "Let's get out of this rain," Grant said.

  Haupt led the way off the dock. As they passed a regiment of troops forming up in the mud in front of a steamer, there was a scattering of cheers, nothing wild and demonstrative, just a respectful acknowledgment, which Grant responded to with a simple half wave, and nothing more.

  The wind reversed for a moment, another gust of rain sweeping down, the air thick with the smell of wood and coal smoke. They climbed a slick, mud-covered road, corduroyed with rough-hewn planks, stepping aside for a moment as a gun crew labored up the slippery track, horses straining, pulling a three-inch ordnance rifle.

  Haupt studied the crew as they passed. They had obviously seen hard fighting; the limber chest was scored and pocked by bullets, paint f
aded and scratched; the horses were lean like the men.

  Reaching the crest to the bluff looking down on the river, Haupt paused for a second, letting the officers behind him catch up.

  The view stirred his heart. A dozen steamboats were tied up along the dock; out across the Ohio and around the bend that led to the Mississippi came more, a long line of ships, the view lost in the mists and swirling clouds of rain.

  Before him was the rail yard. Before the war, Cairo had already been a thriving port town where the rail line that led into the vast heartland of the Midwest terminated at this connection to the river traffic of two great waterways. The war had transformed it beyond all imagining, the main port of supply supporting the campaigns up the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers, and down the broad, open Mississippi to Vicksburg and now on to New Orleans and the world.

  Dozens of locomotives, marshaled here over the last four days, waited, each hooked to boxcars and flatcars, some of them brought down from as far away as Chicago and Milwaukee.

  The authorization the president had given Haupt had been far-reaching, beyond the scope of anything done until now in this war, or in any war. He had federalized half a dozen lines, argued with scores of railroad executives, and made it clear to all of them that they would be compensated, but as of right now he was running their schedules, and resistance would be met with arrest. Haupt reminded more than one of them that Lincoln had suspended the writ of habeas corpus and would not hesitate, if need be, to throw a railroad president in jail if he, Haupt, should request it. Elihu had already shown Haupt the editorial in the Indianapolis Journal denouncing him as the "Napoleon of the Railroads."

  At the same time orders had streamed out as far away as Maine and northern Minnesota, pulling in reserves of tent-age, uniforms, shoes, rations, bandages, field pieces, serge bags for powder, pistol ammunition, horses, mules, oats, chloroform, canned milk, tinware, cooking pots, rifles, packaged cartridges for Springfields, Sharps, and Spencers. Any boxcar to be found on a siding, any wheezy locomotive that could still pull that boxcar was coming in as well, commandeered from across the country to bring forth what was spilling out of the cornucopias made of brick and iron and steam.