v1.1.3 / chapter 84 of 93 / 01 sep 11 / greg goebel / public domain
* William Tecumseh Sherman finally led his army north out of Savannah, Georgia, in early February 1865. The weather was very wet, but Sherman's well-organized army was up to the challenge, corduroying roads and laying down bridges as needed to keep the troops in motion. The Confederacy could do little to slow them down.
Some high-ranking Confederate officials, most prominently Vice President Alexander Stephens, could see the writing on the wall and wanted to sue for peace. Jefferson Davis had no sympathy with the idea but gave his approval, and Stephens and others met with Lincoln. They found the meeting very unsatisfactory; they thought they could negotiate as equals, only to find Lincoln simply wanted to discuss terms of surrender. Davis used the failure of the talks to encourage continued resistance, but he was dreaming. Grant was keeping up the pressure at Petersburg, and the threat of Sherman's army was so great that Jefferson Davis was forced, against all his instincts, to appoint his old adversary Joe Johnston to command of the threadbare rebel forces in Sherman's path.
* William Tecumseh Sherman had hoped to leave Savannah, Georgia, in early January 1865, but winter intervened. The weather was so severe in Washington DC that the Potomac froze over, making shipment of Schofield and his men to Wilmington to assist in Sherman's march impossible. Down South in Georgia, winter rains had turned the countryside into a swamp. The Savannah river was three miles (4.8 kilometers) wide at the place where the Federals had put their pontoon bridge. Slocum's men had to build long trestles to get to the bridge, since the Salkehatchie River had split into 15 channels in the path of the Federals.
Sherman's men could work miracles, but even miracles took time. In the meantime, Rear Admiral Dahlgren's fleet, accompanied by transports carrying General Foster's soldiers, performed feints up and down the coast to keep the rebels confused. Once Sherman got on the march and pushed Confederate forces out of the way, feints could be turned into armed landings to impose Federal authority in cities cleared of rebel troops.
Secretary of War Stanton arrived in Savannah on 11 January, engaging in conversations with Sherman on various topics. One question was what the order of things should be in a completely subjugated South. Sherman, for all his willingness to be hard-handed on secessionists, advocated that the rebels be treated leniently once they were returned to the fold, and implied that the rights of freed blacks should not be an obstacle to reconciliation. What should be done with blacks was another question, and Stanton also talked with local black leaders to get their inputs. They suggested that black folk would be better off if they had land of their own to till, and Stanton and Sherman talked over the possibility that land seized from the big plantation owners might be redistributed to the free blacks.
Stanton went back north on 15 January. The next day, 16 January 1865, Sherman issued "Special Field Order Number 15", which directed the redistribution of land on the coastal islands and along rivers up to 30 miles (48 kilometers) inland to freed blacks. Each new owner would receive 40 acres (16 hectares) of land, and broken-down mules that couldn't campaign any longer were issued as well. General Rufus Saxton, in charge of the coastal islands, supervised the distribution of land to 40,000 freedmen over the next few months. However, the order made it clear that the doctrine of "40 acres and a mule" was provisional and titles would need approval by the Federal government to be permanently valid.
Sherman and his men finally moved out on 1 February 1865. Once again, the march was split into two columns, with two corps in each, Slocum leading the western column, Howard leading the eastern. Kilpatrick's troopers would provide cavalry cover. The two columns were to feint at different objectives to confuse the rebels, but stay relatively close together for mutual support, since Sherman judged it much more likely that he would get into a fight on this march than his campaign across Georgia. Indeed, if Robert E. Lee decided to make a run for it south, Sherman might have a hell of a battle on his hands. Sherman didn't believe this would happen, however, telling his staff that Grant held Lee "in a vise of iron."
The initial objective of Sherman's march was Columbia, the capitol of South Carolina, in the middle of the state. From there, the army would shift direction northeast to seize Goldsboro, North Carolina, where the force would link up with Schofield and his men, and then shift direction again inland to fall on Raleigh, the capitol of North Carolina.
At the outset, Slocum would feint at Agusta, while Howard would threaten Charleston. Howard's force was shifted up the coast by sea to Beaufort in late January to increase rebel confusion. The ruse worked very well, with both Agusta and Charleston reduced to a panic. Officials in Charleston, fearing the city would be burned to the ground, packed up records and shipped them off to Columbia.
Their fear had a solid basis in fact. Almost everyone in Sherman's army, from their lanky commander down to the lowest private, wanted South Carolina to suffer. Rumors had it that Kilpatrick had told his troopers to fill up their saddlebags with matches. Sherman made it very clear in a letter to Halleck what was going to happen to the state that had led the way to secession: "The truth is that the whole army is burning with an insatiable desire to wreak vengeance on South Carolina. I almost tremble for her fate, but feel that she deserves all that seems in store for her." And so it would happen; Sherman's troops would cut a narrower swath through South Carolina than they did through Georgia, but the destruction would be far more thorough, one officer saying: "In Georgia, few houses were burned; here few escaped."
Beauregard had arrived back in Augusta on 1 February to take command of rebel forces in the region, but an inventory showed he only had about 20,000 men available for action, a third of Sherman's, and they were scattered far and wide. He could present no serious resistance.
* The rebels were entirely taken in by the feint towards Charleston, since the Yankees hated that city above all others. However, Sherman did not occupy Charleston himself, directing his army to cut across the city's supply lines and render the city helpless. Hardee had been ordered by Richmond to hold out as long as possible, but Beauregard had no wish to let Hardee and his troops be swallowed up without any possibility of military gain, and told him to pull out on 14 February. Richmond kept insisting that Hardee hold on, but the next day, 15 February, Beauregard gave him a direct order to pull out. The withdrawal was hasty, frantic, and confused. As the rebels left, they burned warehouses, ammunition dumps, warships, and cotton bales.
On 18 February, the mayor surrendered the city to a colonel of General Foster's command from Savannah. Federal warships came in that evening and finally docked at Charleston. A black regiment, the 55th Massachusetts Volunteers, marched through the city that evening to go on guard duty, their fife and drum playing "John Brown's Body".
Sherman was not there to witness any of this, since he and his army had continued their drive northward. The major obstacle to the Federal advance was not Confederate opposition, but the land and weather. Many streams and rivers ran crossways to the line of march, and the damp weather meant that many of them were flooded. The roads were muddy and much of the ground swampy. After an extended session of slogging through the wetlands, one Union infantryman commented: "I think we've struck this river lengthways!" Sherman would later comment that though the march through Georgia got the most attention, the march through the Carolinas was much more important and much more difficult, "child's play compared to the other".
In fact, Sherman's troops moved almost without breaking stride. Sherman had formed a "pioneer corps" of 6,600 lumberjacks and railsplitters to lead the way. They corduroyed roads and built bridges overnight. An admiring Joe Johnston, having been told there was no way an army could make much progress across that land in the winter, had to say that there had been no army like Sherman's since the days of Julius Caesar. A rebel prisoner said that if Sherman's men were all sent to hell, "they'd corduroy it and move on."
The Federals laid down roads and set almost everything on fire alongside them. Sherman didn't go out of his way to encourage vandalism, but he didn't do much to stop it, either. The soldiers were far more vindictive than they had been during the march through Georgia, with foragers robbing the locals and sparing little the fire. Joe Wheeler sent a message to Sherman, saying that the rebels would stop burning cotton in front of the Yankee advance if the Federals would stop burning houses; Wheeler obviously didn't realize that Sherman had no use for captured cotton and the opportunistic vultures who came along with it. Sherman replied: "I hope you will burn all cotton and save us the trouble. All you don't burn I will."
Kilpatrick's cavalry went into the town of Barnwell, torched it to the ground, and moved on with the suggestion that the place be renamed "Burnwell". Although the weather was bad and marching conditions difficult, the soldiers were enthusiastic -- and besides, if they got cold, all they had to do to warm up was torch a house or two.
* South Carolinans hadn't expected that Columbia would be a target. In fact, the city had seemed like a safe haven for so long that many people had taken refuge there over the past few years, multiplying its prewar population by several times. On 15 February, the approach of Sherman's army shattered that illusion, leading to a mass panic to get out of the city.
Wheeler's cavalrymen rode into Columbia on 16 February, but only remained for a short time. The locals were almost glad to see them go, since the rebel troopers had learned some bad habits from their enemies, such as breaking into stores and looting them. However, everyone knew that they would get worse from the Yankees, and so Mayor T.J. Goodwyn and three city aldermen went to the Federals in a carriage under a white flag to surrender the place. The Federal marched in at mid-day. The Mayor was properly submissive to Sherman, and the general felt magnanimous in return: "Go home and rest assured that your city will be as safe in my hands as if you had controlled it."
Sherman was sincere, but he ignored the force of habit in his men and did not consider their circumstances. As the troops came into the city, they began to loot, with a particular interest in getting their hands on alcohol, a process that was made simpler by newly-freed black servants who ladled it out to them from doorsteps. Rebel forces had been trying to take the city's cotton stockpiles with them when they left in haste, and so bales of it were standing in the streets. Much of it was simply blowing around loose in a rough wind and would easily catch fire. Slocum saw the men guzzling down booze and thought it would end badly: "A drunken soldier with a musket in one hand and a match in the other is not a pleasant visitor to have around the house on a dark, windy night, particularly when for a series of years you have urged him to come so that you might have an opportunity of performing a surgical operation on him."
One such drunken soldier, wearing a dressing gown and a top hat, walked up to Sherman and, according to a witness, told him: "I have the honor (hic), General, to preshent (hic) you with (hic) the freedom of the (hic) city." A guard grabbed the drunken soldier and took him away. Sherman found the incident amusing, but told Howard: "Look out, or you'll have hell to pay. You'd better go and see about it in person."
Howard tried to restore order, but after the sun went down, fires began springing up all over the city. Wade Hampton's mansion was burned, as well as many other places. A local teenage girl remembered:
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All around us were falling thickly showers of burning flakes. Everywhere the palpitating blaze walled the streets as far as the eye could reach, filling the air with its terrible roar. On every side the crackling and devouring fire, while every instant came the crashing of timbers and the thunder of falling buildings. A quivering molten ocean seemed to fill the air and sky.
END QUOTE
Even Sherman and his staff tried to fight the fire, and details were sent out to try to round up the firebugs. Hundreds of drunken soldiers were arrested, a few dozen were wounded, and two were shot and killed. By the time the sun came up on the morning of 18 February, order had been imposed, but two-thirds of the city had been burned to the ground. Later he would say: "Though I never ordered the burning, and never wished it, I have never shed any tears over it, because I believed that it hastened what we all fought for -- the end of the war." Publicly, Sherman claimed that Wade Hampton had almost willfully left the incendiary cotton and inflammatory alcohol about in great quantity, ensuring that a disaster would follow. Of course, that was just a transparent smear tactic, and after the war Sherman admitted as much. Sherman wrote that he had done it because he thought Hampton a "braggart" and wished to discredit him.
The Federals left Columbia on 20 February to move on Goldsboro, feinting to confuse the rebels as to their actual objective. However, heavy rains started to fall again and the march bogged down, the soldiers covered with mud. Sherman became impatient and was about to take drastic action, ordering laggard units to burn their wagons, kill their mules, and get moving without such burdens; but the sun came out on 26 February and the roads quickly dried. In the meantime, on 23 February, Wilmington, North Carolina, had fallen to Schofield and his men. The two Union forces now converged on Goldsboro.
* The Confederates had repeatedly put out peace feelers to the Union, but since their basic negotiating position stipulated recognition of Southern independence, they had always been non-starters and amounted to little more than propaganda exercises for the home front.
There were Northerners who still thought they could talk some sense into the Southerners. The head of the Blair family, Old Man Francis P. Blair, had been friends with Jefferson Davis for two decades, and decided to see if he could make any progress with a strictly unofficial visit. Armed with a pass signed by Lincoln, Blair had gone to Richmond late in 1864 and spoken with Jefferson Davis in early January. Blair had proposed a far-fetched plan where the North and South would forget their differences, work together to drive the French out of Mexico, and then come to an agreement on reunion.
Davis wasn't impressed with this scheme, unsurprisingly thinking it sounded like one of Secretary of State Seward's wild ideas, though Blair denied it. However, Davis was impressed that a Northerner of power and influence such as Old Man Blair was in Richmond at all. Davis gave Blair a letter to take back to Lincoln that suggested negotiations to end the war between the "two countries" would be appropriate.
Blair presented the letter to Lincoln on 18 January. The President took one look at the comment about the "two countries" and knew it was more of the same old nonsense, but Blair added that he had met many prominent Confederates in Richmond who were perfectly aware that the South would lose the war very soon. Lincoln decided to respond with a letter of his own, indicating his desire to see peace restored to "our one common country." Old Man Blair returned to Richmond and handed it over to Davis four days later. This was, of course, just as much a nonstarter for Davis, and he immediately dismissed the letter in his own mind. However, Davis saw it as a good opportunity to put the defeatists, or "submissionists", in the Confederate government in their place, and spoke with his perpetually annoying vice-president, Alexander Stephens, to consider engaging in negotiations.
Following this discussion, on 25 January Davis commissioned Stephens, Assistant Secretary of War John A. Campbell, and Senator R.M.T. Hunter to discuss peace terms with the Union. Davis carefully specified that they were empowered only to discuss a peace between "the two countries".
A messenger came over to Union lines at Petersburg on 29 January, bearing a letter for General Grant outlining the Confederate peace mission. Grant was down the coast in North Carolina at the time, talking strategy with Schofield, but he returned swiftly on hearing the news, and the three Confederates came across the lines in a carriage on the afternoon of 31 January. The parapets of both the Union and Confederate works were lined with soldiers, and even a good number of the proper ladies of Petersburg, who thought the event meant that peace was at hand. The soldiers cheered resoundingly, shouting "PEACE! PEACE!", and the ladies fluttered their handkerchiefs.
* Grant made his guests comfortable but kept them at arm's length, and in fact he soon got a message from Lincoln indicating that the presence of the three commissioners was not to be interpreted as implying a truce of any sort.
The three officials were met on 1 February by Major Thomas Eckert, normally the head of the War Department telegraph office back in Washington, now serving as Lincoln's personal representative. Eckert had been instructed to review the mission of the three in order to see if their agenda was to determine terms for reunion, or pretend that they could secure a Union agreement to disunion. Eckert inspected their instructions; he then told them in essence that there was nothing to discuss, and informed Washington DC. However, the next morning, 2 February, Grant sent a long telegram to Secretary Stanton asking the government to consider dealing with the commissioners anyway. Stanton immediately took the message to Lincoln.
Grant had spoken with Stephens and Hunter and concluded they were in earnest,
and at least deserved a fair hearing from somebody who had the authority to
deal with them. Grant was not the sort of general, like McClellan, who
presumed to give the President advice, and his credibility with the Lincoln
Administration was very good. Lincoln wired back:
SAY TO THE GENTLEMEN I WILL MEET THEM
PERSONALLY AT FORTRESS MONROE AS SOON
AS I CAN GET THERE.
The President left on immediately, and that evening arrived at the steamer
RIVER QUEEN, anchored near Fort Monroe. Secretary of State Seward was
waiting for him, having arrived two days earlier on expectation of meeting
the commissioners.
* The President and Secretary of State Seward met the three men on the RIVER QUEEN on the morning of 3 February. There were old and fond acquaintances among them, and they traded small talk for a time.
Then they got down to business. Responding to a probe on how to resolve the conflict from Stephens, Lincoln replied: "There is but one way, and that is for those who are resisting the laws of the Union to cease that resistance." In response to further probes along this line, Lincoln made it absolutely clear that, as far as he was concerned, the war would only end with the restoration of the Union. Justice Campbell understood that as a given, and asked what the policy of the North would be for handling the rebel states once they were returned to the Union. Lincoln made it clear that slavery was finished, with Seward informing the commissioners of the approval of the 13th Amendment three days earlier.
Lincoln then added that he would prefer some scheme of compensation for slave-owners, but observed that Congress had shown no enthusiasm for the idea. As for the readmission of a state to Congress, the ultimate authority for such an action rested with Congress itself and was subject to their rules and conditions, though he would encourage them to be flexible. He would also grant executive clemency to rebel officials to the extent that he was able.
The commissioners had clearly been hoping for much more, but Lincoln was holding all the ace cards and did nothing to pretend otherwise. Robert Hunter finally said: "Mr. President, if we understand you correctly, you think that we of the Confederacy have committed treason; that we are traitors to your government; that we have forfeited our rights, and are proper subjects for the hangman. Is that not about what your words imply?" Lincoln thought it over for a moment, and then answered: "Yes. You have stated the proposition better than I did. That is about the size of it."
The men talked for four hours in all, but the two sides really had nothing to discuss. They finally parted and Lincoln, not happy about having been able to do so little for his old close friend Alexander Stephens, asked: "Well, Stephens, there has been nothing we could do for our country. Is there anything I can do for you personally?" Stephens replied: "Nothing ... unless you can send me my nephew who has been twenty months a prisoner on Johnson's Island."
"I'll be glad to do it. Let me have his name." He was Confederate Lieutenant John A. Stephens, taken prisoner during the Vicksburg campaign and currently locked up on an island in Lake Erie. As the commissioners set off in a rowboat from the RIVER QUEEN, with the oars handled by a black servant, they were given a basket of champagne as a parting gift by Secretary of State Seward. As they were rowed away, Seward called out to them: "Keep the champagne but return the Negro!"
A week later, Lieutenant Stephens was brought to the White House, where he spoke with Lincoln and was given a pass through Union lines. Lincoln also gave him a photograph of himself: "You had better take that along. It is considered quite a curiosity down your way, I believe."
* Confederate diehards used the futile talks as a basis for calls for sterner resistance, though anybody with a grasp of reality would have known the outcome in advance: Lincoln had made no secret of his intent to conquer the South, and given the fact that the Federals had the upper hand there was absolutely no reason to think he had changed his mind. The South still had many men and resources, the diehards pointed out. Some newspaper editors suggested that the Union was not as all-mighty as many Southerners seemed to assume, that Sherman's march through Georgia had been little more than a raid that had come and gone, leaving the land behind them still in Confederate hands.
That was appealing rhetoric, but no more than that. Sherman had gone where he pleased and the Confederacy had been unable to even slow him down, in fact was still unable to oppose him now as he marched his army north for a meeting with Grant. Hood had tried to exploit the "opportunity" and threaten the Union in Tennessee, only to be sent back South, beaten and humiliated. Confederate resistance was crumbling away.
A town meeting was organized in Richmond on 6 February to rouse support for the cause. Robert Hunter was one of the speakers, blasting the arrogance of the Union and their demand for "unconditional submission". Then, much to everyone's surprise, Jefferson Davis, the arch-diehard, showed up unexpectedly and took the podium. Davis delivered what was regarded as one of the finest, most rousing speeches of his career, admired even by his enemies in the audience. The text of that speech was not recorded, but it almost certainly repeated elements from speeches Davis had given elsewhere, mocking the arrogance of "King Abraham The First"; calling for Southerners to rally to the flag, their flag; and claiming that if they showed true courage in the face of disaster, they would prevail. Davis even brought up the topic of arming slaves to help fight for the cause, and the audience accepted it without protest.
Justice Campbell was too demoralized to attend, but Alexander Stephens was there. Stephens, too, was impressed by Davis's rousing oratory, though looking back on it later Stephens called it "little short of demention". After the meeting broke up, Davis asked Stephens what his plans were. Stephens replied that he would "go home and remain there." He returned to Georgia and quietly waited for the last act of the drama to play itself out.
Davis had reason to be satisfied with how things had gone. He had managed to send annoyances like Stephens packing, and the indignation that flared through the South over Lincoln's uncompromising attitude united the Confederacy behind the government. Even editors who had done nothing but snipe at Davis for years rallied to the cause. How long they would stay on board as the water began to wash over the decks of their sinking ship was another question.
Of course, it hadn't been Lincoln's intent to stiffen Confederate resistance; quite the opposite. He had made it clear that nothing less than reunion would be satisfactory in order to suggest that there was no hope of holding out in expectation of a better deal. At the same time, Robert Hunter's belief that Lincoln wanted unconditional submission was not exactly the truth. The war had gone on to the point where the old status quo was absolutely doomed, but even Lincoln wasn't sure what the new status quo would be. When the Union won the war, as it now surely would, how would the affairs of the South be managed? What would the rights and status of the states so recently in rebellion be in the new order?
The President clearly felt that it would be in the best interests of both sides that the new order be as agreeable as possible given the circumstances. He couldn't give promises, since he wasn't the only person who would establish that new order, but he had a great deal of influence. The Confederate commissioners couldn't see this, wouldn't see it, but they had not stopped the game, just dealt themselves out of it. Even before meeting the commissioners, Secretary Seward had told his wife that "the condition of the South is pitiable, but it is not yet fully realized there."
Soldiers on both sides understood the pitiable condition of the South, and late in the month Generals Ord and Longstreet, meeting between the Petersburg lines to discuss fraternization between pickets and arrange a prisoner exchange, got to talking and came to the idea that maybe the soldiers might do better if they had a few talks among themselves. Longstreet liked the idea and passed it up to Lee, who ran it past Davis and Secretary of War Breckinridge. They thought it was worth a try, and so Lee sent a message across the lines to Grant on 3 March.
Grant wired Washington DC for instructions, and Lincoln promptly replied that Grant could deal with Lee to accept the rebel surrender, or on prisoner exchanges and the like, but that political matters were out of Grant's brief. Grant sent a response to Lee, saying that he, Grant, lacked the authority to discuss such matters. Since Lee had spoken to Davis about the proposal, such discussions would have been futile anyway: Davis was not interested in talking about surrender, would never authorize Lee to do so, and surrender was almost the only option left to the Confederacy.
* Unlike Jefferson Davis, Robert E. Lee was wide-awake to how narrow the Confederacy's options had become. On the morning of 5 February, the Federals launched another offensive around the southern end of the Petersburg lines. The attack was led by Gregg's cavalry division, with Warren leading two divisions of his V Corps and Humphreys leading two divisions of his II Corps. The objective of the offensive was limited: cut the Boynton Plank Road, which ran into Petersburg from the southwest, where it crossed a creek named Hatcher's Run near Burgess Mill.
Grant believed this would help strangle the flow of supplies northward, though in fact Lee had been expecting such a move and the Boynton Plank Road was not being used as a supply route. The Federals reached their objective, with the only difficulty being bitterly cold weather since the Confederates weren't trying to hold it, and then dug in, driving back an attack by John B. Gordon's corps and one of Hill's divisions. The Battle of Hatcher's Run, as it was called, lasted about three days, with the Federals losing almost 1,500 men. The only thing they gained by it was an extension of their lines, but that justified the losses. Lee had to correspondingly stretch his own lines, and his resources were far too thin to tolerate much more extension.
Lee was, however, taking some advantage of his new authority as general-in-chief. Lee had refused a petition in mid-month to put Joe Johnston in command of the forces in front of Sherman's advance, replying that Beauregard was perfectly competent to do the job and there was no good sense in changing the commander of a force under pressure. However, as the days passed by, Lee heard no news of any resistance, successful or otherwise, against Sherman; Beauregard seemed incapable of action. Lee thought that very unlike Beauregard, but rumors were floating about that Beauregard was ill, possibly seriously.
On 21 February, Beauregard wired yet another one of his grand "master plans" to Jefferson Davis, proposing that the Confederacy concentrate its forces, smash Sherman, turn and smash Grant, then march on Washington DC and win the war. Davis passed the wire on to Lee, who replied charitably on 23 February: "The idea is good, but the means are lacking." Nothing in any of Beauregard's messages indicated any measures of substance, and Lee knew that Beauregard had to go.
Lee had already sounded out War Secretary Breckinridge on the matter, sending a message on 19 February that listed Beauregard's failings in the current crisis and suggested in discreet terms that Joe Johnston would be a better choice for command under the circumstances. Lee was usually direct and Breckinridge asked for clarification. Lee replied in much simpler language that Joe Johnston should replace Beauregard, but cited "circumstances" as a constraint, which Breckinridge knew meant Jefferson Davis's dislike of Johnston.
Breckinridge passed the suggestion on to Davis, who swallowed his prejudices and approved it. Johnston, then in Lincolntown, North Carolina, received orders placing him in command on 23 February. The orders also stipulated that he "drive back Sherman". Johnston replied, accurately, that he had very few resources, concluding: "Is any discretion allowed me? I have no staff." In reality, Johnston knew that the Confederacy was all but defeated, and that the only thing he could hope to do was obtain the best terms for surrender.
* Lee had not acknowledged that the game was lost, but he knew it was desperate. On 23 February, the same day Wilmington fell and Johnston took command, Lee wrote Jefferson Davis suggesting that Richmond might have to be given up in order to free Lee's army to go south and link up with Johnston's forces.
In fact, at the time that scenario was Grant's worst nightmare. If Lee abandoned Richmond and left the city to Grant, that would be a nice propaganda victory for the Federal cause, but once the Army of Northern Virginia was free to move again, the war might be prolonged another year. The outcome wouldn't be in doubt, but after all the hardship the Union had endured to that time the idea of going on another year was very unpleasant.
Foul weather and tough Confederate defenses at Petersburg prevented Grant from simply snatching up Lee and his army, but Grant had another option: cut Lee's rail lines to make a rebel withdrawal more difficult. On 20 February, Grant wrote Sheridan, who was still in the Shenandoah Valley, that he and his troopers were to ride as soon as it was practical, striking at Lynchburg and the vital rail junctions there. Smashing the railroads there would cut off Lee's supplies from the west and also eliminate an escape route. Once that was done, Sheridan could rejoin Grant at Petersburg, but Grant preferred that Sheridan ride south and link up with Sherman, circumstances permitting.
Sheridan was enthusiastic. He had completed his work of destruction in the Shenandoah Valley and was eager to get back into the front lines of the war. He was also eager to be rid of the insufferable John Mosby and his men. Mosby's Rangers had been busy recently, wrecking a train and seizing a Federal payroll of $73,000 from it, and then snatching Brigadier General Alfred Duffie while he was out on a buggy ride. Another group of Confederate irregulars was even bolder, riding north to Cumberland, Maryland on 21 February, where they grabbed George Crook, now a major general and in charge of the Department of West Virginia, as well as Brigadier General B.F. Kelly. The two unhappy generals were ridden south and locked up in Libby Prison in Richmond, though they were quickly returned on a prisoner exchange.
Sheridan had no interest in chasing after mosquitoes. Better to simply take his cavalry and go, leaving the guerrillas to their land laid waste. Most of his infantry had already gone east. A small force would remain behind, under the command of Hancock, who would replace Sheridan, to keep an eye on the guerrillas. The real war was elsewhere.
