That was probably true, Taylor thought. Jesup had brought professional order and system into what had in earlier times been a disgracefully slapdash manner of keeping the military supplied. And since the quartermaster corps was outside the normal chain of command for line units, an ambitious officer like Gaines wouldn’t consider him a rival.
Not knowing what to say, Taylor kept his mouth shut. He looked back at Brown.
“You’ll be staying in service, yes?” asked the major general.
Zack nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” said Brown. He lifted the sheets. “These reports were excellent. What’s your assessment of our chances in a war with the Confederacy?”
“It depends, sir. If it were done right, there’s no question we would win. Despite the Confederacy’s considerable geographic advantage in a defensive war—which is what they’d be fighting, of course—the overall disparity in numbers is simply overwhelming. The United States has a population of about ten million people; the Confederacy, less than two hundred thousand. But it won’t be easy, it won’t be quick, and…”
He relaxed a bit. The rest of what he had to say would certainly bring no censure from the men in this room. “And, finally, it’s just absurd to think it can be done with an army the size ours has been since the demobilization after the war with England. We’ve got—what? Not much more than six thousand regular soldiers in the whole country?”
“About that,” agreed Brown. “Officially—the real numbers vary a bit—the bill passed by Congress in 1821 allows us five hundred and forty commissioned officers and slightly over five thousand, five hundred enlisted men. Divided into seven infantry and four artillery regiments.”
“Clay will call for an immediate expansion of the armed forces,” Jesup predicted.
Scott’s answering grimace was just short of a sneer. “Oh, splendid. Even in the war with Britain, it took a year and a half to build up to fifteen thousand men. By the end of the war, we had not more than thirty-five thousand regulars. Half of whom, throughout, did purely garrison duty. And that war was generally popular outside New England. This new war, if it begins, will be anathema in New England and popular nowhere except in some—not all—of the Southern states.”
Now the expression on his face was an outright sneer. “The same states of the Deep South, I remind you, whose contributions to the war against England were pitiful.”
Jesup grunted. “They didn’t even do much against the Creeks except plunder helpless villages. The real fighting, outside of regulars, was done by border state militias.”
It was a harsh indictment, but Taylor couldn’t find any real fault with it. Throughout the recent war, Jackson’s Tennessee militia had borne the brunt of the fighting in the southern theater; first against the Creeks and later the British. The Kentuckians had contributed a large number of soldiers also, although they’d generally produced mediocre officers. The rest of the South, outside of the many officers produced by Virginia, hadn’t done much. The Georgia militia, in particular, had been as notorious for its incapacity in the field against a real enemy as for its penchant for committing atrocities against noncombatants. Jackson had despised them and made no bones about it.
“And Clay won’t have the Tennessee militia as a southern anchor, this time around,” Jesup continued. “Not a chance. Not with the stance Jackson’s taken. He’s already starting to call it Henry Clay’s War. Usually with a string of adjectives attached, the mildest of which is ‘benighted.’ ”
Winfield Scott raised an eyebrow. “William Carroll’s the governor of Tennessee, though, Tom. Not Andrew Jackson—and they’re political enemies.”
Jesup waggled his hand. “Yes and no. There’s no personal animosity between them, and not really all that much in the way of real political issues in dispute. Their ‘enmity’ is mostly just a matter of old factional quarrels in Tennessee politics. Go back a few years, and they were close friends and allies. Who’s to say they can’t be again?”
“Yes, I agree,” said Brown. “Despite his reputation, Jackson’s perfectly capable of ending a feud if there’s no personal injury involved.”
“Even then!” snorted Scott. “He’s burying the hatchet with Thomas Hart Benton right now.”
Moving stiffly, Brown sat up straight in his chair and placed his left hand on the desk. His other hand remained in his lap, since he’d lost most of the use of his right arm after his stroke.
“There’s no chance at all that Governor Carroll will agree to let the Tennessee militia be used in any war against the Confederacy,” he said firmly. “Not this war, at any rate. And there’s no better chance, in my judgment, that the Kentucky militia will be available to Clay, either. The current governor, John Adair, served under Jackson at New Orleans. And both he and his successor, Joseph Desha, are members of the Relief Party. They’re Clay’s political enemies, not his friends.”
Taylor didn’t have the familiarity of the three generals in the room with the politics of the nation as a whole, but he did know Kentucky politics. So, finally, he ventured an opinion.
“I agree. And for sure and certain, Senator Johnson’s going to be against any such war. Leaving aside his political allegiance to Jackson, his two daughters are going to school in Arkansas, and his—ah—Julia Chinn is still residing there also. At least for the moment.”
Brown cocked his head. “She didn’t return to Kentucky?”
“No. That was her original plan, but…well…The girls are only twelve.”
He had to fight a little to keep a straight face. It’d have been more accurate to add going on thirteen, with their eyes already on two boys not all that much older.
“So, there it is,” stated Jesup. “A war fought with a regular army stripped to the bone, and without the Tennessee and Kentucky militias to provide the additional men we relied on in the southern theater against the Creeks and the British.”
Brown picked it up immediately. “Yes, there it is. So what’s your assessment, Colonel Taylor? And please add, if you would, your own recommendations.”
“Assume for the moment that you were in overall command,” chimed in Scott.
Taylor didn’t hesitate. He’d now spent months considering the problem. “Whatever else, avoid the obvious route. The Arkansas River valley is a trap that could easily turn into a death trap.”
He saw Scott and Brown exchange glances. Triumphant, in the case of Scott’s; acknowledging, in the case of Brown’s. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d been pondering the matter.
“Well fortified?” That came from Jesup.
“Arkansas Post is as well built a fort as any in North America, outside the coastal regions,” Taylor stated. “I wasn’t able to personally inspect the fortifications farther up the river, but from what I was able to determine, they’re possibly even more formidable.”
“I did inspect them, not long ago,” said Scott. “Your assessment is quite accurate, Colonel.”
Taylor nodded. “I’d simply establish a stronghold at the confluence to block the Confederacy’s access to the Mississippi. Then, launch a diversionary attack up the Red River—”
“How would you deal with the Great Raft?” Brown interrupted.
Taylor smiled. “With great difficulty, sir.”
A little laugh filled the room. “Still, with some patience and good logistics,” Taylor continued, “it’s not impossible. But I stress that this would be merely a diversion. Its main purpose would be to force the Confederates to maintain a considerable military force on their southern border. The Confederacy’s great advantage is geography; its great disadvantage, a small population from which to draw soldiers. We’d need to use the former, as best we could—however hard it might be—to place as great a strain as possible on the latter.”
The three generals looked at one another. “Makes sense to me,” said Jesup. Scott nodded.
Brown looked back at Taylor. “Please continue.”
“But the main attack would come from the
north. A big army—very big, with lots of cavalry and a well-organized supply train—marching up the Missouri from St. Louis and then down onto the Indian lands of the Confederacy, following the Arkansas. The emphasis would be on using our potentially much superior cavalry in relatively open terrain, and placing pressure on the Cherokees and Creeks to sever their relations with the blacks in Arkansas. If we can succeed in doing so, we’ll then have Arkansas in a vise. Over time, by methods of siege and economic strangulation if nothing else, they’d have to surrender.”
“You’d not go directly against Driscol’s chiefdom?”
Taylor shook his head. “No, sir. The Indian nations in the trans-Arkansas region of the Confederacy are still not that well organized, not even the Cherokee, and there are already strains among them over the issue of slavery. Moreover, while they’re certainly brave enough, none of them can field a disciplined and well-trained professional army that could face U.S. regulars in the field. I cannot stress enough the need to stay away from major direct clashes with the Arkansans on their own terrain. That’ll be a bloodbath, sir. Even if we win—and I am not frankly sure we could at all, on their terrain, without a minimum of fifteen thousand men in the field—the casualties would produce an uproar in the country.”
“Explain,” Brown commanded.
Taylor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sir, if you’ll allow me to say so, the great danger is that the army will underestimate the Arkansas forces because of their color.”
“Jackson wouldn’t,” Scott said immediately. “The core of that army is the Iron Battalion. If he’s ever had anything to say about them other than praise, I’ve never heard it.”
“No, he probably wouldn’t,” Taylor agreed. He smiled then, for the first time since he’d entered the office. “But I think if there is one single thing we can be sure and certain of, it’s that Old Hickory is the very last man Henry Clay would ask to command an expedition against the Confederacy.”
Another laugh filled the room. Not a little one, this time.
Brown nodded. “Harrison’s likely to be put in command. By all accounts I’ve heard, he’s champing at the bit.”
Taylor thought about it for a moment. William Henry Harrison had resigned from the army in a huff in 1814, after a dispute with Secretary of War Armstrong, and had since then been engaged in a middling-successful career as a politician. He’d lost as many elections as he’d won, but he had just managed to get elected as one of the U.S. senators from Ohio. He was known to be a Clay supporter. What was more important was that, second only to Andrew Jackson, he was widely considered the nation’s greatest “Injun fighter” because of his victories over Tecumseh’s alliance at Tippecanoe and the Thames. If Clay offered to return him to the army as a major general and placed him in command of a war against the Confederacy, Harrison would most likely accept. He was an ambitious man, and he must by now have realized that his principal strength as a politician was his military reputation. Resigning from a Senate seat he’d not even warmed yet in order to answer a patriotic call to duty in a war against the Confederacy would position him nicely to succeed Clay in the White House.
Assuming he won the war, of course.
“What about General Gaines?” he asked. Zack raised the question diffidently, since he’d been very careful to keep a distance from the feud between Winfield Scott and Edmund Gaines that had, for years now, divided a good portion of the officer corps into two hostile camps. Still, it needed to be asked.
Brown shrugged. “With me and Winfield both resigning, Edmund will automatically become the next commander in chief. Unless Clay decides to supersede seniority altogether, which I think unlikely.”
“Not a chance,” stated Scott confidently. “Harrison wants the glory of a successful campaign, so he’ll not be interested. And with you and me both resigning—and I’ll make my reasons blunt and explicit, Jacob, even if you won’t—Clay will have enough problems with the remaining officers. If he alienates Gaines, he’ll have nothing.”
Again, Scott sneered. “Of course, Clay can rely on Gaines to wag his tail obligingly, no matter what nonsensical military results he demands.”
There was always that to be said for Winfield Scott. As vain and arrogant as the man could be, there was a genuine streak of integrity in him. More than a streak, actually. Jacob Brown had come into the army as a politician, and although he’d gained the respect of the military for his demonstrated courage and prowess as a soldier, he remained a politician. Scott wasn’t, and never had been. He was quite capable of resigning from the army on grounds of political principle, and stating them publicly.
Gaines, on the other hand…
Mentally, Zachary shook his head. He’d never taken sides in the long-running Scott–Gaines feud, since there’d been no practical reason to do so personally, and the causes of the feud were petty in any event. But if he had to choose between the two men, either as generals or simply as men—especially the latter—he had no doubt which way he’d go.
Yes, Gaines would wag his tail and do what his master bade him if the food bowl was filled.
“So let’s sum it, Colonel Taylor,” Scott said. “We’re looking at a war with John Calhoun as the secretary of war, Edmund Gaines sitting where I am now, Winfield out of the army entirely, and William Henry Harrison placed in command of the campaign against the Confederacy. Into this, you propose to recommend a campaign that ignores seizing Arkansas and humbling the negroes—which is the main purpose of the war from Calhoun’s viewpoint—in order to fight a long and protracted campaign against Indian tribes with which, were it not for their ties to Arkansas, the United States no longer has any real quarrel.”
Taylor took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. That’s what I recommend.”
The three generals in the room grinned.
Jesup spoke first. “Jacob, I told you so. By all means, promote this splendid officer.”
Brown chuckled. “Indeed I will. Zack, it’s within my power to promote you to full colonel. Beyond that, of course, I can’t go without authorization from Congress. If I could make you a brigadier, I would. What I can do also, however—which is more important than anything, if you’ll accept—is place you in command of all U.S. Army forces in Missouri. That’ll require you and your family to relocate to St. Louis, of course.”
While his mind worked on the matter as a whole, Taylor dealt with the latter issue. “That’s not a problem, sir. To be honest, I’d prefer moving the girls out of Louisiana. That’s not been good for their health. For the rest…”
He hesitated. Normally, of course, any officer would be delighted by such a promotion. But, although he was no expert on the workings of political infighting in Washington, Zachary Taylor was not stupid. For all intents and purposes—even if nothing was said directly—by accepting the promotion and the assignment he would be joining what amounted to a conspiracy against the man now almost certain to become the next president of the United States.
A most far-ranging and vast conspiracy, at that. One which, soon if not already, would have Andrew Jackson and John Quincy Adams involved in the cabal.
He looked at Scott. “If you’ll permit me the liberty, General, what do you plan to do upon your retirement?”
Scott smiled. “First, of course, I shall pay a visit to Senator Jackson. It’s time, I think, for he and I to end that old feud between us stemming from the Florida campaign. Second, I shall pay a visit upon John Quincy Adams to tender my respects. He’s a man I both like and admire. Thereafter…”
The smiled widened considerably. “I believe I shall try my hand at journalism. That William Cullen Bryant fellow has expressed an interest in continuing his reportage on the situation in the Confederacy. But he told me—I happened to run into him just the other day—that he could benefit from the advice of a military expert. And apparently several editors at several of the nation’s major journals have indicated a willingness to pay for it. Quite well, in fact.”
Taylor looked at Brown. The a
rmy’s commanding general shrugged. Most of the motion was in the left shoulder. The right barely moved at all. “My health really is very poor, Colonel. My doctors have been urging me for some time to relinquish the strains of military command. So I’ll simply return to private life in Brownville and resume my business affairs. Which I need to do, in any event, since I have some major debts I need to retire.”
He cleared his throat. “Of course, I retain certain connections in New York politics.”
Now Taylor looked at Jesup.
“I shall give you whatever support I can, Zack,” the quartermaster general stated firmly. “Rest assured of it.”
Much as it went against his cautious temperament, Zachary felt he had to say the heart of the thing out loud. “If I understand you correctly, General Brown, you fear that the coming war is likely to damage the U.S. Army.”
“Half wreck it, say better,” hissed Winfield Scott. “God damn Henry Clay.”
“And you want me to do what I can to salvage something from the disaster.”
“It really is too bad you can’t promote him to brigadier, Jacob,” mused Jesup.
“In essence, yes,” said Brown. “I realize it won’t be easy, Zachary. But if you can give us a good campaign in the north, I think”—he glanced around the room—“and we all think, that the damage can be repaired when the time comes.”
“Ah, General…Generals.” Zack shook his head. “There is no way—not if I were Napoleon or Alexander the Great—that I could defeat the Confederacy with a northern campaign unless it were properly mounted, equipped, and supplied, with enough men. None of which is going to be true.” He gave Jesup a quick apologetic glance. “Well, perhaps the supplies and equipment will be adequate.”
“They won’t even be that,” Jesup growled. “But I’ll give you whatever I can.”
Brown started to say something, but Scott waved him down. “It’s time for you to keep quiet, Jacob. Private citizen and behind-the-scenes politician, remember? Let me state what needs to be stated openly.”