Siege of Washington, D.C., written expressly for little people

by F. Colburn Adams

CHAPTER VIII.

A BRIGHTER PROSPECT.

YOU have here an exact picture of the brave Franklin, who commanded the gallant old Sixth Corps, which deserves a bright place in the history of the Army of the Potomac.

When Pope had finished his job for us, and shown us what a hero he was, the government, in the exercise of its wisdom, sent him into the far West to fight the Indians, where he could, with propriety, establish his headquarters in the saddle.

Franklin, who had been relieved of his command, for no one exactly knew what, was now restored to it, to the great joy of the old Sixth Corps. Soldiers fight better under a general they know and have confidence in; and they are the best judges as to who is the most competent to lead them. Franklin and his gallant corps fell in with the enemy, posted in a strong position on the South Mountain, at Crampton's Gap, and after a fierce fight, drove him from it and over into the valley, sometimes charging up the steeps with the bayonet. This was quite an important success, my son, since it checked the enemy's advance, and caused him to fall back on the plains of Antietam, and form his army in line of battle. Indeed, he so far mistook this movement as to believe it an attempt to get in his rear.

This gleam of success, gained by Franklin, inspired the nation with new hope. Yes, my son, and it cheered the hearts of our brave soldiers, restored their strength, and gave them new confidence. Then General George formed his army in line on the plains of Antietam, and a great and bloody battle was fought, and the rebel army beaten and put to flight. Pay no heed, my son, to what the prejudiced may say of this battle. It was one of the greatest battles fought during the war. All honor to the brave soldiers who fought it. Our troops, too, were handled with great skill, and the world never saw better generalship than our George displayed. Yes, my son, Antietam was our Waterloo, fought at a time when the nation needed a victory most; and the general who fought it ought never to be forgotten by his country. When, then, George had gained this victory for us, had beaten and driven the enemy from all his positions, and caused the nation to rejoice, he halted to give his brave soldiers rest and repair damages. His losses were great, and he had compassion on his soldiers, for many of them were without shoes and had little raiment. In truth, my son, these brave, abused, and war-worn soldiers had only the well-worn shoes and clothes they had made the campaign of the Peninsula in.

George pleaded the necessity of his soldiers as a reason for his delay, and very justly. But this pleased neither the government nor the politicians whose bitterest prejudices seemed to control it. These gentlemen urged that he follow the enemy at once and capture him, a piece of strategy not so easily accomplished as many think. In short, we were in no position to follow the enemy until we got shoes and raiment for our brave soldiers. Nor could we have added much to our success by following General Lee and his men, who had an open country before them, until we were well prepared to engage them in another battle. When, however, George got his army ready, he moved directly on the enemy, and his soldiers were in the best of spirits, for we had got General Lee and his men in a position where he would be compelled to fight another battle, with the advantages in our favor. Now I don't say, my son, that George would have won this battle, but by fighting it he would have exposed the enemy's real weakness, and placed him in a very bad position. But the government, as if more willing to promote the prejudices of politicians than to preserve the honor of our arms, resolved not to let George fight another battle. Yes, my son, it removed him from his command, and that, too, when he was close up with the enemy, and was expecting every day to engage him in battle. I do not remember that history records another instance where the commander of an army, that had just gained a great victory, was so disgraced by his own government.

The enemy could not have inflicted a more severe blow on our brave army than was done by this act of our own government. A feeling of disappointment and sorrow ran through the ranks, and the brave men who had fought under and loved their commander, wept at the injustice that took him away from them. It will, in time, be made clear, my son, that the government committed a great crime against our army by this act. It cannot be wisdom to remove a commander, so popular with his army as George B. McClellan was, especially when that army was on the eve of a battle. Such an act is sure to excite dissatisfaction, and dissatisfaction destroys discipline. Nor should such a commander be removed at so critical a time unless the government were prepared to fill his place with one of equal, if not superior capacity. A general, to hope for success, must have the confidence and respect of his troops. To remove one who has, and fill his place with one who has not, is a crime than which none can be greater. It is a crime against the brave men whose lives are at the risk of the capacity of their commander. Our government committed this crime when it gave the command of the army of the Potomac to General Burnside. That general was the best judge of what he could do, and freely confessed his incapacity for so high a command. But the government was not to be put off by this confession of weakness on the part of a general, preferring to reward him for his honesty, and make no account of his capacity. I accept this, my son, as the only reason why General Burnside was given so high a command. As for his capacity as a general, he gave us a proof of that when he let the rebels fall back, and get well fortified at Fredericksburg. To show, however, what a general could do by attempting impossibilities, he sent the brave army of the Potomac to be slaughtered by an enemy covered with stone walls. I tell you, my son, it was a dark day for the nation when that was done. It multiplied our misfortunes, gave a deeper wound to our grief and sorrow, and brought disgrace on our arms.

I will pass over these misfortunes as lightly, my son, as possible, hoping only that they will serve us as a warning in the future. Having buried Burnside deep under the misfortunes of his own incapacity, the question again came up, where shall we find a general to do up these rebels for us, and gain us a little victory? The great Grant was doing wonders for us in the West. He was bold, earnest, and brave. And this was the secret of his success. But in the East we were sorely troubled for some one who could do something.

General Hooker was brave and bold. But, my son, he had such a weakness for blowing his own trumpet. Yes, he could blow it as loud and as long as any trumpeter you ever listened to—Pope excepted. He had declared of himself that he was just the man to lead our army to victory, and give the enemy a sound thrashing. It was true, this general had been very insubordinate. He had said a number of things, neither wise nor polite, of his superiors. And he had set an example to his soldiers not inclined to improve their discipline. As, however, he had declared himself the man to lead our army to victory, and the government wanted just such a man, it took the general at his word, and gave him the command.

There were some people, my son, unkind enough to say, and say boldly, that the government did this strange act more to show its appreciation of insubordination than out of respect to his capacity to discharge successfully the duties of his high position. When, however, the general had talked himself into the very best opinion of himself, he went to work nursing his grand army into good order. Yes, my son, the old army of the Potomac was a grand army, and General Hooker declared it was the finest on the face of the globe. And he nursed it into good order on the left bank of the Rappahannock, from December, 1862, to early April, 1863. The general could get up of a morning, and enjoy a look at his old friend Lee, quietly domiciled on the opposite bank. And General Lee could get up of a morning, and do the same. Both generals regarded this as a very harmless and pleasant way of spending the winter, while carrying on the war. They would, at times, it is true, exchange compliments of a belligerent nature. But this was only to give a lively turn to the state of affairs around Fredericksburg. They were, I can assure you, my son, not intended to harm any one.