Hood’s Tennessee Campaign: Last Act in the West, Part 1

In the final months of 1864, as fall moved relentlessly towards winter, the last great drama of the Civil War's Western Theater took place in central Tennessee. It would pit two opponents with decidedly differing views of war against one another, and see the last major battles to be fought on the far side of the Appalachians. The resulting campaign would, therefore, end a process that had begun at Fort Henry in early 1862 and write the final chapter in the theater that had, for all intents and purposes, decided the war's eventual outcome.

General William T. Sherman had successfully taken the city of Atlanta in September 1864, having pressed steadily against the skillful defensive maneuvering of General Joseph Johnston and the Army of Tennessee, and then finally smashed the offensive counter attacks of Johnston’s successor, General John B. Hood. The loss of this vital industrial center and transportation hub now left the Deep South seemingly at Sherman’s mercy, and the loss was as much psychological as it was military and economic.

In late September, Confederate President Jefferson Davis traveled to Palmetto, Georgia to confer with Hood and develop a strategy for dealing with Sherman's next move. It seemed clear that Sherman would eventually strike out from Atlanta towards either the Gulf coast or the Atlantic. However, the question was what Hood should do to stop him and, frankly, what he was capable of doing. He was facing an opponent who was numerically superior, well supplied, and possessed strong morale. The Army of Tennessee had been battered during Sherman’s offensive against the city. More so, the heavy casualties inflicted upon the army after Hood took command did not make the general very popular with his men. In any case, Davis needed Hood to somehow drive Sherman and all Federal forces out of Georgia and, hopefully, out of Alabama and Tennessee, as well.

Hood's proposal to Davis called for him to move his army north to threaten Sherman’s primary supply line, the railways leading to Chattanooga and Nashville. This, Hood concluded, would force Sherman to either come after the Confederate army or move to the coast, where he could be supplied by sea. If the Union general chose the former, Hood would fall back into the rugged terrain of northern Georgia or Alabama and bring Sherman to battle on ground advantageous to the Confederate army. If, on the other hand, Sherman struck out for the coast, Hood would follow him, continuously destroying his lines of communication, harassing his rear, and eventually forcing Sherman to turn and fight at a place of Hood’s choosing. Hood also foresaw the possibility that Sherman might choose to divide his forces, sending some to Tennessee to guard the Union rear. In that case, Hood proposed to fight the Union forces in Georgia, drive them out, and then deal with the remaining Federal elements in Tennessee.

Davis liked what he heard, but added one proviso: Should Sherman move north to protect the rail lines, he wanted Hood to withdraw to Gadsden, Alabama. Once there, Hood could be resupplied via the railways from southern Alabama, which remained in Confederate hands, while still threatening Sherman. Hood agreed to the president’s idea but, most importantly, he promised Davis that, whatever direction Sherman moved, he and the Army of Tennessee would follow.

Davis departed for Richmond on September 27, 1864, and, two days later, Hood marched his army out of Palmetto towards the line of the Georgia Central Railroad, which linked Atlanta with Chattanooga. Sherman quickly realized that Hood was on the move and marched part of his army north to intercept him. However, the Union general’s cavalry had difficulty locating Hood and, as a result, Sherman was unable to bring him to battle. For his part, Hood moved quickly and screened his movements well. But, Sherman refused to divide his forces as Hood had hoped and, while the two men would play cat and mouse for three weeks, the climactic battle Hood wanted never came to fruition. By October 20, Hood had managed to reach the safety of Gadsden, but Sherman ceased to follow him.

Sherman had decided to take an approach neither Hood nor Davis had foreseen. While Sherman would, indeed, head for the Atlantic and would decide to create a new army to protect Tennessee, the idea of Hood threatening his lines of supply and communication would not concern him. Taking a page from Grant’s Vicksburg campaign, he would abandon any lines of supply, providing for his army via foraging as he struck out for Savannah. He was going to eliminate the need to worry about his supply lines simply by not having any. At the same time, he directed General George H. Thomas in Nashville to assemble whatever forces he could muster into an army and deal with Hood should the Confederate general make a move north into Tennessee.

At this critical juncture, Hood apparently decided to revise the strategy he had agreed to with Jefferson Davis. His new plan was nothing if not wildly imaginative and highly aggressive, and, thus, very characteristic of John Hood. In Hood’s new vision of operations, he would quickly strike northward into Tennessee, and destroy Thomas’ scattered forces before they had a chance to merge. Then, rather than turning to follow Sherman, he would continue north into Kentucky, rally new recruits, gather supplies, and threaten Ohio. This, in turn, would force Sherman to abandon Georgia and pursue him. Hood could then either turn and fight or, perhaps, even cross the mountains and join with Lee in Virginia.

In late October, he briefed this grandiose plan to his new theater commander, General Pierre Beauregard. Beauregard was shocked, as he pointed out that Hood was abandoning the critical element of his earlier plan and the one considered sacred by both himself and the president: that he would pursue Sherman no matter what. However, after hearing Hood out, Beauregard reluctantly agreed to the plan. Nevertheless, he did insist on one change, ordering Joe Wheeler’s cavalry to be detached from Hood, so they could follow and harass Sherman. Wheeler’s men would be replaced with the cavalry of the legendary Nathan Bedford Forrest, currently operating in western Tennessee.

Over the course of time, Hood has received a lot of criticism for his campaign plan and, at this point, I want to make a couple of things very clear. First, the revised plan was agreed to by both Davis and Beauregard, and both fully supported it in the end. This was not the wild and unsupported plan of one man, as it has been sometimes described. The other key point is that Hood's campaign plan was born of utter desperation and a lack of any options. Pursuing Sherman would have been a fruitless exercise and might have even led to greater potential for a disaster the Confederacy could ill afford. Given the military situation, his audacious plan was probably the only hope the South had. If successful, the potential benefits were huge. If unsuccessful, in many ways, they would be no worse off. Therefore, Hood's plan offered the only way forward.

Hood knew time was of the essence and immediately moved his army north to Guntersville, Alabama to await Forrest’s arrival. Unfortunately, the cavalry’s arrival was delayed by heavy fall rains and flooded rivers, so Hood moved further into northern Alabama to Tuscumbia to allow a quicker union with Forrest. However, when he arrived there on October 31, he found Forrest was still far away, further delayed by heavy rains, which also slowed the delivery of rations critical to the coming campaign. Hood had no choice but to wait for both Forrest and his supplies, a process that would take three weeks. Meanwhile, George Thomas began to assemble his new army and, on November 15, Sherman departed Atlanta to begin his inexorable march to the sea.

As I indicated earlier, Hood and Thomas were men with vastly different approaches to war and, in some ways, no two men could have been more different. John Bell Hood has been described many different ways. Words like reckless, pugnacious, aggressive, hotheaded, mercurial, brave, and resolute have been used to characterize his fundamental approach to war and life. But I believe the word passionate best applies to this native Kentuckian. After all, the only two books he ever checked out from the West Point library while a cadet were Jane Porter’s Scottish Chiefs and Sir Walter Scott’s Rob Roy. In many ways, Hood was Quixotic, a romantic, passionate man better suited to another time.

On the battlefield, Hood seemed to follow his heart more than his head. While serving as a brigade and division commander in Longstreet’s corps of Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia, Hood’s aggressive style was a perfect fit to Lee’s offensive mindset, and he would prove himself a critical asset in the legendary eastern Confederate army. After he was seriously wounded at Gettysburg, he lost the use of his left arm. Following recuperation in Richmond, he returned to command the lead elements of Longstreet’s attack at Chickamauga, where he received an even worse wound, this time in the upper right thigh. The wound shattered his leg and led to amputation. Left with only a small stump, he would be forced to use crutches to walk and had to be strapped into the saddle atop his horse.

Despite these wounds, wounds that would have left a lesser man prostrate, Hood lost none of his aggressive nature. He was a firm believer that his men would be better soldiers if they were used in frontal attacks, and that defensive fighting behind the safety of trenches and barricades made for lesser men. Therefore, when he took over command of the Army of Tennessee from the defensive-minded Joe Johnston, he immediately changed course and ordered a series of brutal offensive attacks against Sherman’s army, with nearly disastrous results. As his army awaited the move into Tennessee, he promised his men a different approach. He deliberately implied that there would be no more direct frontal assaults and that they would fight only when and where they had a distinct advantage. This led one officer from Texas to write that Hood said, “…we will have some hard marching and some fighting, but that he is not going to risk a chance for defeat in Tennessee. That he will not fight in Tennessee unless he has an equal number of men and choice of ground.” Sadly, this was a promise that the ever passionate Hood would not keep.

Waiting across the line in Tennessee was George Thomas. Like Hood, there have been a variety of words used to describe Thomas as a soldier and asa man, among them slow, plodding, cautious, deliberate, steadfast, loyal, brave, and stouthearted. Here, I opt for resolute and professional. George Thomas was a Virginian by birth and, when his native state seceded, there was never a question as to his loyalties. He was a man for whom the oath he had taken on the plains of West Point meant everything, even if it led to irrevocable separation from his family. After he announced his decision to remain in the U.S. Army and fight the rebellion, his sisters turned his picture to the wall, burned all his letters, and never spoke to him again.

Through his steadfast nature and competent abilities as a soldier, Thomas steadily rose in command while serving in the West. He was a corps commander under Rosecrans by the time of the Battle of Chickamauga in September 1863, and it was here he would earn his famous nickname, “The Rock of Chickamauga.” As most of Rosecrans’ Army of the Cumberland disintegrated and fled back to Chattanooga, Thomas lone outnumbered XIV Corps held the line, beating back repeated Confederate attacks and stubbornly holding until they could fall back in order under the cover of darkness. His stand allowed Rosecrans and the army to reach the safety of Chattanooga and likely prevented their complete destruction.

When Rosecrans was relieved and Grant was given overall command in the West, the new theater commander’s first act was to appoint Thomas to command in the besieged city of Chattanooga. Grant had strong reservations about Thomas, reservations that he never relinquished despite Thomas’ performance in the field. Grant saw Thomas as slow and overly cautious, a characteristic he considered fatal in a commander. Grant was almost certainly too harsh in his judgment. George Thomas was not so much cautious as he was deliberate. He would always make certain that, as much as was possible, he was ready to fight and able to fully leverage every possible advantage. Most importantly, however, when he was ready to fight, he would fight with tenacity and resolve. In many ways, given Hood’s passionate, sometimes reckless approach to battle, George Thomas was ideally suited to counter him.

On November 21, Hood finally moved his men across the Tennessee River at Florence, Alabama, and headed for Tennessee. His three undersized corps consisted of 12 divisions with 38,000 men and 108 guns. Rations were still critically short, many of the men had no shoes, and their tattered uniforms barely clung to their backs. To make matters worse, while the rain had stopped, winter had arrived in full force. The ground was frozen hard and a cold wind accompanied by sleet blew in the men’s faces as they marched. However, many soldiers were optimistic. After all, the general had promised them only to fight when it was to their advantage and, besides, with more than 30 of Hood’s regiments being from Tennessee, many looked forward to returning to their home state and driving the hated enemy from its borders.

As Hood began the campaign in earnest, George Thomas was scrambling to assemble an army to oppose him. In early October, he had only about 10,000 troops plus quartermaster personnel in Nashville, with smaller detachments scattered about Tennessee and northern Alabama. Before he departed for Savannah, Sherman had ordered two fresh divisions from St. Louis to hurry east to reinforce Nashville. But, as Hood marched into Tennessee, they had not yet arrived. Thomas also knew that, with Forrest supporting Hood, he would be facing the South’s best cavalry. His own cavalry was not in good shape, so he placed James Wilson, an industrious young general, in charge of trying to reorganize his rather sad collection of troopers into something capable of countering the legendary Forrest.

Thomas’ best and largest force consisted of two corps from Sherman’s army left behind to form the nucleus of his new army. These were the XXIII and IV Corps, a total of 30,000 men under the command of an ambitious 33-year old general named John Schofield. Schofield was one of those officers that peers and superiors soon learn to distrust, the sort of man who sends backchannel communications in which he criticizes the actions of his superiors and recommends their replacement. He was a soldier by training and profession, but a politician by nature. However, he was not entirely without ability and he had a nose for danger. As Hood moved north into Tennessee, his nose told him there was definitely trouble coming and it was headed straight for him.

The danger Schofield sensed came from his position. Schofield’s 30,000 men were at Pulaski, Tennessee, astride the Franklin & Columbia Turnpike leading from Decatur, Alabama to Nashville. Nashville was approximately 60 miles in Schofield’s rear and Thomas had assumed that, once they knew Hood was moving, Schofield could simply retire to the north and join with Union forces in Nashville. Unfortunately for Schofield, both he and Hood realized there was one weakness in Thomas’ plan: the Duck River. That river lay halfway between Pulaski and Nashville, where the turnpike ran through the town of Columbia, Tennessee. If Hood could reach Columbia before Schofield, he could trap him south of the river, prevent his small army from reaching Nashville, destroy it, and then attack Thomas in Nashville.

Schofield quickly got his men and their 800 wagons on the move in a race for Columbia and the Duck River. The sleet had now turned back into rain, making the roads a quagmire, but Schofield drove his men onward. To make matters worse for the retreating Union troops, Forrest’s cavalry began to make concerted attacks on the column’s rear and Wilson’s new and outnumbered cavalry faced the daunting task of trying to fend off the increasingly vicious assaults. Wilson’s efforts were not completely successful and the resulting Union losses were heavy. Still, he slowed Forrest enough to allow Schofield’s small army to reach Columbia on November 27 and secure the river crossing before Hood could get there. The Union troops quickly dug trenches and took defensive positions as Hood’s army arrived to their front from the south.

With night approaching, the rain turned into sleet then snow, and the ground froze once more. Schofield realized that he was not out of danger, as Hood was capable of getting his army across the river via a ford, trapping him. Therefore, as darkness fell, he moved his army to the far side of the river and burned the both of Columbia’s bridges. For his part, John Hood immediately moved into Columbia and decided to wait until morning before sending his army east a few miles, where they would cross the river at a ford secured by Forrest and his cavalry. He would then make a rapid march to Spring Hill, 12 miles north up the turnpike, and, once again, seek to block John Schofield’s path to Nashville.

On November 28, Hood got his army moving while Schofield sat on the high ground across the river from Columbia, seemingly oblivious to the new threat. In the afternoon, he received a series of messages from General Wilson informing him that Forrest’s cavalry was fording the river below Columbia. At 2:10 p.m., Wilson wrote to Schofield’s adjutant:

HDQRS. CAVALRY CORPS, MIL. DIV. OF THE MISSISSIPPI, November 28, 1864--2.10 p.m.

Major CAMPBELL:

MAJOR: Colonel Capron reports, 11.20 a.m., his force driven back from south side of Duck River by heavy force of the enemy; he is now fighting them across river. I move everything in that direction. Order Stewart's brigade, sent below the town, to join me by the road toward Rally Hill; he will, however, have to keep well to the north, as the force crossing above Huey's also seems heavy, from all I can learn. Maybe Stewart had better go pretty well up to Spring Hill before striking across.

J. H. WILSON, Brevet Major-General.

For some reason, Schofield was slow to respond to this news, despite its obviously ominous nature, and his intransigence continued for the balance of the day. Meanwhile, Hood began moving towards the Union rear. Next, in the early morning hours of November 29, Wilson once again sent additional news to Schofield, which seemed to confirm the worst: Hood was throwing pontoon bridges across the river and his infantry would soon be crossing in an attempt to get in the Union rear and block the turnpike.

Again, despite this news, Schofield was unmoved. As the morning of November 29 dawned, the one unit left behind in Columbia by Hood kept up a constant bombardment of artillery fire, convincing Schofield that Hood still intended to attack across the river to his front, which was exactly what Hood wanted him to believe. Meanwhile, Hood, with one corps in the lead, was already headed towards the turnpike and Spring Hill. Schofield did decide to have General Stanley send two divisions from the IV Corps north towards Spring Hill, but that was his sole move in response to Wilson’s repeatedly urgent appeals.

However, as fate would have it, this small move by Schofield proved a pivotal one. The Union troops moved rapidly up the pike and the lead brigade, led by Colonel Emerson Opdycke, a tough commander from Ohio, reached Spring Hill in time to fight off a determined attack by Forrest’s cavalry. General Stanley hurried the remainder of his lead division to join Opdycke’s brigade and, by 3:00 p.m., the Union troops were dug in and ready. Hood’s corps under General Cheatham drew up southeast of the town and, with a better than 2 to 1 advantage, Hood seemed assured of taking the vital crossroads.

However, as Cheatham’s men went forward, nothing went right. Forrest had not scouted the Federal positions and, therefore, the lead Confederate infantry under General Patrick Cleburne did not have accurate information on where Stanley’s line was placed. As a result, Cleburne’s men headed in the wrong direction and ended up presenting their exposed right flank to the Federal troops rather than coming at them head-on. As Union artillery and rifle enfiladed the Southern lines with deadly effect, Cleburne was forced to withdraw. Cheatham called for reinforcements but none could get into position before nightfall. Hood called off the attack and ordered the men to bivouac for the night. The attack on Spring Hill could wait until morning. However, what followed was one of the most bizarre incidents of the war.

With the news of Cheatham’s attack on Stanley’s isolated division at Spring Hill, John Schofield finally figured out that he had been totally outmaneuvered by Hood. He had only one course of action: Pull out and hope that he could somehow get his men up the turnpike and past Hood’s army. Remarkably, as nightfall approached, Union scouts reported that the pike was still open—John Hood failed to order anyone to block it. The Confederate army was encamped nearby, at some places within 100 yards of the road. But, inexplicably there was not so much as a single Southern sentry watching the turnpike. Schofield’s men quietly stole up the road to Spring Hill, muffling every sound and even throwing blankets down on the wooden bridges to quiet the sounds of tramping feet and the wheels of hundreds of wagons. By 7:00 p.m., the lead Union brigades had already passed Hood’s army and made it to Spring Hill. Captain James Sexton of the 72nd Illinois Infantry remembered the fateful night years later.

We were in such close proximity to the Confederates, that we could see their long line of campfires as they burned brightly; could hear the rattle of their canteens; see the officers and men standing around the fires; while the rumbling of our wagon train on the pike, and the beating of our own hearts were the only sounds we could hear on our side.

During the night, several reports reached Hood indicating that someone had seen or heard movement on the pike. However, in each case, Hood dismissed the report, pulled up his blanket, and remained snugly warm in his cot for the night. Meanwhile, the balance of 25,000 Federal troops marched past his army in the darkness to safety.

By sunrise, Schofield’s entire force had reached Franklin, eight miles beyond Spring Hill. When Hood was informed of Schofield’s escape, he was livid, blaming everyone but himself for the turn of events. Even years later, he would write that the errors of his generals, in particular Cheatham, had destroyed the most brilliant military maneuver of his career. Worst of all for the men of his army, Hood’s anger now caused him to change his mind on how the Army of Tennessee would fight the campaign. The real problem, he decided, was that his men were soft and afraid to fight. This, he further concluded, was a lingering symptom from Joe Johnston’s preference for fighting from behind the protection of fortifications. The cure, he resolved, was to send his men into battle via the frontal attack. With his promise to his men now irrevocably broken, Hood set out to catch John Schofield and bring him to battle before he could reach Nashville.

Command Profile: Joe Johnston

Of all the men who held major commands during the Civil War, Joseph E. Johnson’s performance is, without doubt, the most perplexing. At the outset of the war, as a brigadier general in the Regular Army, he was the highest ranking officer to resign in favor of service to the Confederacy. He was also a man deeply respected by his peers and he retained that high stature throughout the war and into the years beyond it. He fought with distinction against the Seminole, Fox, and Sac Indians, and received two brevet promotions for gallantry in Mexico, where he was wounded twice.

Johnston was also a man with a deep, almost dysfunctional sense of personal honor, who valued order and proper procedure above all else. And, he was also a somewhat ambitious man. However, unlike men like Joe Hooker, his ambition was more subtle, quiet and far less aggressive. Still, he demanded what he felt was due him as a matter of course and could become extremely petulant if he believed he had been slighted. However, despite these apparent flaws, he was talented soldier of whom Ulysses S. Grant later said, when comparing him to other Confederate generals, “Joe Johnston gave me more anxiety than any of the others.” Further, those who served with him shared an equally high opinion. J.E.B. Stuart referred to Johnston as his best friend and James Longstreet once stated that he longed to serve under Johnston.

However, those high opinions would not be shared by President Jefferson Davis. Although, at the outset of the war, Johnston was a man Davis sought out, elevated to command, and the two seemed to have common strategic vision. But, once Johnston took the field, their relationship changed and not for the better. Davis quickly discovered that, when he gave Johnston the latitude and discretion the Confederate president thought this highly experience general deserved, Johnston would become frozen and demand detailed instructions. At the same time, however, when detailed policy directives were issued, Johnston would become incensed at what he saw as excessive interference in his ability to command.

Johnston and Davis’ relationship would permanently sour over the issue of rank and, more specifically, Johnston’s rank relative to other Confederate generals. Following a maze of guidance issued by the Confederate Congress, Johnston was promoted to the full rank of general, but he was ranked fourth in terms of seniority behind Samuel Cooper, Albert Sidney Johnston, and Robert E. Lee. Johnston was incensed by this perceived slight. He wrote an angry two thousand-word note to President Davis in which he argued that, as the highest ranking officer in the U.S. Army to enter Confederate service, he should be the highest in seniority. In point of fact, for a variety of complex reasons related to the guidance from congress, Davis was correct in ranking Johnston fourth and tried to explain this to him. But, Johnston took the matter very seriously and even after the dates of rank were adjusted, Johnston was still angry with Davis. He would later make matters worse by openly allying himself with politicians such as Senator Louis Wigfall of Texas, who was a bitter opponent of Davis. As a result, their personal relationship would never recover.

In addition, Johnston began to display his limitations as a general. In early 1862, Johnston commanded the forces that would eventually be named the Army of Northern Virginia. As such, he was opposed by General George McClellan and the Army of the Potomac, and was responsible for the defense of northern Virginia and the capital at Richmond. However, when McClellan moved his army to the Virginia Peninsula, Johnston’s sole response was to fall back to a line near the capital’s defenses and await further developments. When Davis and Lee, who was now commander of all Confederate armies, inquired as to what was Johnston’s strategic plan for countering McClellan, Johnston replied that he planned to take the defensive and see if McClellan made an error that could be exploited. Given McClellan’s superior numbers, one can see the logic of this approach, but, at the same time, it seemed a recipe for accepting potential defeat before there had even been a fight. Johnston was eventually prodded to move on the offensive, had some limited success, but was severely wounded in the process. This led to Lee taking command of what would become his army, while Johnston spent several months recovering from his wounds.

Despite the souring of their relationship, Jefferson Davis continued to have respect for Johnston and his military abilities. Therefore, in late 1862, when the general fully recovered from his wounds, Davis appointed him commander of all Confederate armies in the western theater. In Davis’ opinion, Johnston was clearly a more talented and experienced officer that either the two army commanders in the theater, Braxton Bragg and John Pemberton. Therefore, Johnston would be charged with developing and implementing operational strategies, and ensuring cooperation between the two armies. Further, whenever a Federal army would move against either Bragg or Pemberton, Johnston would be on the scene, develop a response, and then leave the army commander to implement it. On the surface, it seemed like the perfect job for a man of Johnston’s perceived talents.

Unfortunately, the concept failed in execution for two reasons. First, in Davis’ mind, any Federal attacks would occur in isolation, allowing Johnston to deal with either Grant or Rosecrans’ army in turn. He never imagined they would pose a threat simultaneously. Therefore, while Johnston favored consolidating both armies into one and opposing the greater Federal threat, Davis insisted that the armies remain separate and that they give up as little Confederate territory as possible. Additionally, the concept failed because Johnston could not grasp what his job really entailed. In his mind, if he responded to a Federal threat to either Bragg or Pemberton and developed a plan for their implementation, he was interfering in their rights as army commanders, which he saw as supreme. That is one reason why he preferred to unify the two armies under his command. That way, he would be the “army commander” and, therefore, any command decisions he made would be appropriate. Joe Johnston simply did not have the vision to achieve what Davis sought.

As a result, when Grant moved against Pemberton at Vicksburg while Rosecrans was pressuring Bragg, only disaster could result. In many ways, Johnston’s response to Grant’s campaign was appropriate. He first attempted to distract and even block Grant with forces taken from Bragg, but he did not have the strength to do so effectively. Then, he urged Pemberton to evacuate Vicksburg and break through Union lines so they could join forces. In Johnston’s mind, losing Vicksburg was a fait accompli. Therefore, what mattered most was the preservation of Pemberton’s army so it could continue the fight. Unfortunately, however, Davis had personally ordered Pemberton to hold the city at all costs, leading to the loss of an army of 30,000 men.

The loss of Vicksburg led to an end of Johnston’s command but he was soon thrust back into command when Bragg was defeated at Chattanooga in November 1863. Johnston was given command of the Army of Tennessee and told to defend the city of Atlanta from William T. Sherman’s advancing army. Johnston, once again, saw himself badly outnumbered and felt that he had no option but to be on the defensive. As a result, he spent the summer of 1864 fighting a war of maneuver against Sherman. Whenever the Union general shifted his forces in attempt to flank Johnston, Johnston would quickly move to block him. Except for the disastrous Union assault at Kennesaw Mountain, Sherman respected the defenses blocking him and continued to try to work his way around them. However, in executing this war of defensive maneuver, Joe Johnston was steadily falling back towards the city of Atlanta.

In Jefferson Davis’ mind, the loss of Atlanta was simply unacceptable, while, in Johnston’s mind, the preservation of the Army of Tennessee ranked highest. If he took the offensive, the army would be defeated with massive losses and Atlanta would still fall. Then, there would be no army capable of stopping Sherman from continuing an advance into the heart of the Deep South. However, Davis was always of an offensive mindset and he believed only violent, determined counterattacks would stop Sherman. Once again, the president and Joe Johnston were at odds.

Davis formally asked Johnston to detail his plan for dealing with Sherman, looking for some sense f that he would go on the offensive and, even more so, that Johnston would guarantee the safety of Atlanta. Johnston’s response gave him neither and Davis replaced him with the very offensive-minded John B. Hood. Hood would attack Sherman, as Davis desired, and the Army of Tennessee would be soundly smashed and Atlanta would fall, just as Johnston knew it would.

In the closing months of the war, Johnston was again given command of the tattered remnants of the Army of Tennessee. He would try in vain to first slow down Sherman as the Union army ploughed through the Carolinas and then to join with Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. When he heard of Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, he surrendered his army to Sherman at Bennett Place, North Carolina. He was so moved by Sherman’s kindness in issuing 10-days of rations to Johnston’s starving army, he would never allow anyone to speak ill of the Union general in his presence.

Johnston went on to success in the private sector following the war, served in the 46th U.S. Congress, and was a commissioner of railroads during the Grover Cleveland administration. But, his wartime record remains a disappointing and confounding puzzle. But, his sense of honor, which seems to have ruled so much of his behavior, provides a fascinating postscript to his career and his life. Johnston never forgot William T. Sherman’s magnanimity when he surrendered in April 1865.When Sherman died, Johnston served as a pallbearer at the funeral and, despite the cold, rainy weather during the procession in New York City, Johnston kept his hat off as a sign of respect. One bystander, who was concerned for the elderly general's health, asked him to please put on his hat. Johnston replied, "If I were in his place and he standing here in mine, he would not put on his hat." Within a few days, he became gravely ill with pneumonia and died on March 21, 1891.

Sherman’s Raid on Meridian: A Key Milestone in the Evolution of Total War

Strategists and historians who study the Civil War often note that the war was a major milestone and, if you will, a turning point in the evolution of warfare and military strategy. Prior to the Civil War, most wars centered around a Jominian strategy of defeating enemy armies in set-piece battles that allowed one to seize, occupy, and control territory. In fact, it was often believed that, if one simply seized key points on a map, the war was won. But the Civil War changed all that because Ulysses Grant and William Sherman came to see that simple occupation of territory would not bring victory to the Union.

First, from their experience in the vastness of the Western Theater, they realized that they would never have enough men to actually control sufficient territory to deny the Confederate armies the logistical resources required to wage war. To be sure, they might hold key cities, but they could not possibly occupy and control all of the countryside. And while they believed that the Union must also engage and destroy the major Confederate armies in both the East and the West, they also realized that the ideological foundation of the war meant that Union forces were essentially fighting an entire society and that society must be brought to its knees if they were to gain victory. Therefore, they evolved a strategy that would attack the South militarily, economically, and psychologically—the first use of a strategy of total war.

A key component of this strategy was the raid. However, unlike the previous cavalry raids used by both sides, Grant and Sherman envisioned raiding on a massive scale, using infantry and engineering troops, and designed to inflict enormous material damage. If successful, this massive strategic raiding would not only pay logistical dividends, it might also damaged the South psychologically, and cause increased desertion in the Confederate armies as well as despair in the Southern population. The resulting political and emotional attrition could, therefore, only enhance and accelerate whatever military attrition they might achieve on the battlefield. The first test of this concept came in February 1864 when Sherman planned to conduct a raid on Meridian, Mississippi. While many of you may not be acquainted with this action, the raid on Meridian not only a harbinger of things to come in the final year of the war, it also was a frightful preview of wars to come.

On January 10, 1864, after returning to the Mississippi from supporting Grant during the Chattanooga campaign, Sherman ordered various elements of his command in western Mississippi to begin preparation for a march on Meridian. His official report states, “My object was to break up the enemy's railroads at and about Meridian, and to do the enemy as much damage as possible.” There was no intent to engage the enemy in battle except for any that might occur as part of the achieving the objective. Sherman’s plan involved the use of 21,000 infantry supported by 7,000 cavalry. This compact force would move quickly, leaving Vicksburg on February 3, living off the land, and marching the 150 miles to Meridian by February 14.

Meridian and the rail junction there provided a key strategic target. The city was approximately halfway between the state capital in Jackson and the armaments and manufacturing factories in Selma, Alabama. Further, three different railroads intersected in Meridian, including one that ran to the key port city of Mobile. As a result, it was the home to enormous storage and distribution facilities for industrial products as well as food, primarily grain and cattle.

Sherman knew that his success depended on speed and he ordered his commanders to strip their forces down to the bare minimum in terms of a supply train. The idea was to move fast, taking what was needed to subsist from the farms along the way, and no one, including himself, was to carry a single tent. To ensure his army did not get bogged down on the roads and to facilitate foraging for supplies, he ordered that the four divisions of infantry in the expedition move in two parallel columns. In addition, his orders to all commanders constantly reinforced the need for speed, reminding them to ignore and bypass any “minor points,” and not to pause to destroy any property or engage any enemy forces not deemed to be significant.

As Sherman’s columns moved rapidly east towards their objective, they met only token resistance and pushed that aside with ease. While Confederate General Leonidas Polk’s headquarters was in Meridian, his forces in the region were scattered and, given the speed of Sherman’s approach, there was no opportunity to consolidate before Union forces arrived. Therefore, Polk elected to abandon the city and leave it to its fate, departing by train just a few hours before Sherman and his men arrived at 3:30 p.m. on February 14. With the exception of a failure of Sherman’s cavalry to provide coordinated support, the raid had been a complete success to this point.

Sherman then began the systematic destruction of Meridian’s ability to support the Confederate war effort. His confidence upon arriving in Meridian is reflected by the fact that he let his men rest all day on February 15, before beginning their work the next day. In addition, his first-hand observation of the city’s transportation and storage infrastructure convinced him that he had, indeed, selected a good target: “The immense depots, warehouses, and length of sidetrack demonstrated the importance to the enemy of that place. Through it he has heretofore transported his armies and vast supplies, and by means of the railroads large amounts of corn, bacon, meal, and produce have been distributed to his armies.”

Sherman’s infantry commanders were each assigned a particular quadrant in which to destroy anything of value to the Confederate military. General Hurlburt was ordered to work north and east of the city, while General McPherson and his command were sent south and west of Meridian. In total, some 10,000 men were told to spend the better part of five days destroying tracks, locomotives, warehouses, and any other logistics or military facilities using “axes, crowbars, sledges, clawbars, and with fire.”

The citizens of Meridian were rightfully terrified by Sherman’s arrival and some looting did occur. One woman, writing to her mother in Mobile after the raid, said that, at first, a “mob” of soldiers entered her home “breaking open doors, trunks, locks, etc., tearing up and destroying everything they could. Caught all the chickens in the place in half an hour.” After requesting help from General Hurlburt, Union guards were placed at her house, but a group of five soldiers was assigned to search her home and confiscate any arms, gold, or silver. Eventually, General Leggett and his staff chose her home as their headquarters and, as a result, it was saved from potential destruction. However, as her letter went on to detail, the rest of the city was not so lucky.

Our store was burned to the ground, and so was another of our new houses. My two milch cows were killed, and every one in the town; and for eight or ten miles around, all cattle and horses...The printing office and all public buildings were burned up, and Mr. Ragsdale’s Hotel, Cullen’s, Terrill’s, and the Burton House.

All the railroad is torn up, both up and down, for miles, and all the ties burned and iron bent and destroyed. Oh, such destruction! I do not believe you or any one else would know the place. There’s not a fence in Meridian. I have not one rail left.

The woman, who only signed her letter as “S.E.P.B,” went to report that one friend, a Mrs. McElroy, had all her possessions destroyed and her house burned to the ground because her daughter had insulted a Union officer and a private. Mrs. McElroy’s son-in-law brought her and her daughter to the woman’s home for protection, but General Leggett told her that her house would also be burned if she gave Mrs. McElroy shelter. Sorrowfully, she had to tell Mrs. McElroy that she could not take them in.

S.E.P.B. was very accurate in describing the destruction wrought by Sherman and his troops. In his official report, Sherman would write, “I have no hesitation in pronouncing the work as well done. Meridian, with its depots, store-houses, arsenal, hospitals, offices, hotels, and cantonments no longer exists.” In total, his men destroyed 115 miles of railroad, 61 bridges and culverts, 20 locomotives, 28 rail cars, and 3 steam sawmills. The general added, “The railroad is destroyed all the way from Jackson to Meridian, 100 miles; from Meridian to and including the large bridge over the Chickasawha below Quitman; north to and including a bridge at Lauderdale Springs, and east about 20 miles. The enemy cannot use these roads to our prejudice in the coming campaign.” According to some accounts, only six major buildings were left standing after Sherman’s departure.

With their work complete, Sherman’s force left Meridian and returned to Vicksburg on February 28. While the railroads around Meridian would be repaired within a month, the loss in terms of the locomotives and logistics infrastructure was devastating. However, much more happened in the Meridian raid than simply the destruction of railroads, locomotives, and warehouses. A key element of a new strategy, a new philosophy of war, devised in concert by Ulysses Grant and William Sherman, had been successfully field tested. When Sherman would later storm across Georgia and the Carolinas, wreaking havoc, the tactics employed in marching on Meridian would serve as his model. The era of chivalrous and “civilized” warfare in which civilians and their property were protected was at an end, the era of total warfare had begun, and the citizens of Meridian, Mississippi had received the first official notice.