The Fateful Lightning

  Magrath seemed to know he was outgunned. “I will leave you now, sir. I understand fully that you have enormous responsibilities. I shall once again beseech President Davis for reinforcements to assist your efforts. I pledge to you, sir, that I shall endeavor to raise at least five thousand more good South Carolina men, fit for your command. If there are more to be found, I shall find them.”

  Hardee felt like Magrath had more to say, but the governor made his exit without another word, his bluster disappearing with him. Hardee was relieved, sagged in the chair, his thoughts rolling toward anger. Brown was willing to surrender his state to the Yankees, he thought. Now, instead of assisting us, he calls his own troops home. Somewhere that would fit someone’s definition of treason. Richmond, certainly.

  “Are you alone, my darling?”

  Her words rolled through him like music, and he turned toward the far doorway, Mary peering in, cautious, never to intrude.

  “Yes, he’s gone. Please, come in. Sit with me.”

  Mary moved with a soft grace that made him ache to touch her. She leaned in close to him, the aroma of her perfume washing the staleness of his mood away. He looked up, expecting a kiss, but she slid away, teasing him, sat in the chair, the perch where Magrath had first warmed the cushion. She adjusted her dress now, offered just a hint of one leg, another tease, said, “He seems to be a dreadful fellow. His voice carried all over the house.”

  “Andrew Gordon Magrath has been governor of this state for exactly a week, but you would assume that somewhere long ago, someone had appointed him lord high potentate, with the wisdom to match. And all I did was insult the man, show him so much disrespect that it could cost me my career. If he was friends with the president instead of a rival, I’d be dismissed from the army before the sun set.” He paused, his voice trailing away. “The war has been merciful to South Carolina. But that will now change. There is no safe place, not anymore. And Magrath knows I’m right. That has to gall him even more. No amount of politicking can change what is about to happen. All those ‘powerful’ men are finding out they have no real power at all. It is something I have seen before, my darling, both in and out of the army. Men with power either trumpet to everyone just how powerful they are, or they use that power effectively by keeping quiet about it, and going about their duties. I regret he is the former. This state will not benefit from imaginary bravado. It has never worked. Not anywhere.”

  “Why must they condemn you so? Forgive me, my husband, but I could not avoid his awful assaults on you. I don’t care if he’s the governor. He has no right to scold you. I did not mean to listen, but he was just so…loud.”

  “There is nothing that happens in this house that you should not be audience to. The girls, either. My son, well, perhaps that would be different. He hears the kind of dressing-down I just received, and he’d stand up to anyone, governor or not, to defend my honor. He’s too young to understand that an enemy’s sword is likely as dangerous as his own.”

  “He will fight, you know.”

  There was more to her words than a simple boast.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He thinks I won’t tell you. A stepmother has no real authority, of course, so I cannot convince him of anything. But he still intends to join them, Terry’s Rangers, is it?”

  Hardee closed his eyes, one more wave of despair.

  Willie had insisted on joining the army while still engaged in his schooling, something Hardee had strenuously objected to. The boy was only sixteen, Hardee with no desire to see his only son becoming a soldier. But in the chaos of the fighting that rolled around Atlanta, Hardee’s attentions were too focused on the war to deal with the administrative concerns of his son’s schooling, and Willie had quit the school in Athens with the exaggerated fantasy of joining the 11th Texas Cavalry, known as Terry’s Texas Rangers. The romance of that was obvious, but Hardee of course knew the realities of the war that his son had never experienced, and Hardee had taken steps to ensure that his son would not carry a musket for the Texas Rangers, romance or not. But the school would not accept his return, and so Hardee had been forced to keep Willie close by, the only way to know just what the boy might try to do. He had placed the boy on his staff, allowed him to serve as an aide-de-camp, kept mostly out of the way from Hardee’s daily routines by the efforts of Major Roy. During the Atlanta campaign, when Hardee had been banished to Charleston, Willie’s ardor for combat seemed to cool, but now, with the war fully engulfing Hardee’s command, Willie had once again pushed for a position facing the enemy.

  “He promised me he would go back to school. I should have taken him there myself, laid my sword on that headmaster’s desk.”

  She smiled now. “And when did you have time? He has no use for school right now. Look at all that surrounds him, all those soldiers, all those muskets. He will not be satisfied until he fights. Like his father. Is that not the lesson you’ve taught him?”

  “Not on purpose. That’s why I wanted him gone, doing something worthwhile with his brain. Let this war end, and he can do whatever he pleases. I do not want him shooting at anyone. Or, worse, having someone shoot at him.”

  His felt his heart beating in hard thumps, stared at the floor beneath him. She knew his moods, kept silent for a long moment, then said, “My husband, how much longer will it be?”

  He looked at her, felt a sad wound from the beauty in her young face. “You assume I know the answer to that.”

  “Yes, I do. More than anyone around this country. I read the newspapers. I know how badly things are going for us. There was a time when we could read of victories, off in some distant place, places I never knew existed. But there is none of that now. Now the papers speak only of the enemy, of Grant and Sherman, and all the terror we are likely to suffer. I read of what Sherman did to Georgia, how he murdered people in their homes, burned the land, destroyed everything in every place his army marched. You said yourself, to the governor, he is coming here now. If you believe he cannot be stopped, then what are the rest of us to believe? Your daughters are working still with the doctors here, learning how to dress wounds, how to care for the injured. They are preparing for what will happen next.”

  “I don’t know what will happen next. No one does.”

  “Do not treat me like you treat Willie. I am not so young I do not know what you endure. I know of your friend, my friend, General Cleburne. I know of Bishop Polk. It is what wakes me every night, begging God not to take you, not to see you with some awful wound. And now you believe that Sherman is coming here, will bring his war to Charleston. Am I not allowed to be afraid?”

  He stood, moved toward her, put a hand softly on her head, felt the fineness of her hair. “We are all afraid, Mary. We cannot be victorious. No great speeches, no lies in the newspapers, no fantastic dreams that we hear from our president, nothing changes the truth. But I do not believe Sherman is the devil. I do not believe he rapes the innocent just for recreation. My brother is still in Savannah, and I would not have allowed that if I thought Sherman would abuse him. I cannot accept that a career soldier, a man from West Point, a professional…I cannot accept that Sherman is simply a beast. He is fighting this war to end it. He is better at that than I am, than Beauregard is, Bragg, Pemberton. And he has something we will never have, something we lost long ago. He has the army strong enough to do his bidding, to execute his strategies, to fulfill his tactics.”

  He paused, looked at her, saw teary eyes staring up at him, her words coming in a soft cry, “Then why can you not end this? Before it gets worse. Before it comes here.”

  He let his hand drop from her hair, moved away.

  Because I am a soldier, he thought. But he could not say that aloud, felt suddenly foolish, telling her that he was helpless to his duty, to obedience, no matter the wishful fantasies of his president, of Governor Magrath, of anyone above him who still believed in victory.

  “The men we brought out of Savannah…they’re being positioned in key locations, includi
ng the defenses outside of Charleston. They are protecting the railroads, the intersections. I am told by General Wheeler that the columns marched north from Savannah with considerable despair, that the men lack shoes and proper clothing. But still they march.” He looked at her again. “You must understand that. They continue to serve this army, this cause, they continue to hold their muskets, to man their artillery. They are still an army, and they have not yet given up this fight. How am I to tell them they are wrong? My son still wishes to join them. His father, Lieutenant General Hardee, prefers that he goes anyplace else. But I cannot fault him for wishing to stand up with the men he admires. Perhaps Magrath is correct. Perhaps the men of South Carolina will stand up in a way the men of Georgia did not.” He stopped. “Now it is I who am dreaming.”

  “So much has been lost, my husband. You saw what Christmas was like here. It rained all day, the people were in terribly somber spirits. Can you imagine what it was like in Savannah, or Atlanta? So many places the war has already destroyed?”

  “Yes. And I imagine it was a joyous, festive time in Washington and New York and Philadelphia. And in Sherman’s camp, they sang songs and worshipped and prayed and celebrated, no differently than we would have, if that were my army.”

  “And you cannot make Richmond understand, to make this stop? You cannot convince that horrible governor?”

  “They see what they choose to see. And right now, they choose that I should form an army the best way possible, and protect all that we have fought for.”

  She stood, wiped at her eyes. “You mean, all that remains to fight for. And what is that?”

  He put his hands on her arms, pulled her close to him, felt the warmth, the softness. “My darling wife, what remains is the war. And it will be up to others to stop what we are doing, to say that we have done all we can do, to order the men to return home, and their generals as well. All I can do now is the very thing I have trained for my entire life. As long as there are men to lead, I must lead them.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  SHERMAN

  SAVANNAH—JANUARY 5, 1865

  “Sir, there are women in the parlor. Two, in fact.”

  He looked up, saw the pleasant smile on Green’s face, the Englishman still the congenial host.

  “I assume they’re here for me? I’ve had enough entertaining for one day. After two dozen Negroes, I’ve run out of politeness. One can only be gracious for so long.”

  Green laughed. “I must say, they do show a level of affection and respect for you that I have not seen. Not at all. The outpouring of emotion alone is quite remarkable. From what I have observed, there is nowhere in this city you can go without attracting considerable attention. It must be enormously flattering.”

  “It is. Can’t say I expected that. Never thought of this campaign as one of liberation. Now, those women?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Perhaps you could spare them a moment? They’re quite well known to me.”

  Sherman let out a breath. “There are a few who wish to become quite ‘well known’ to me as well. It is best that I avoid such temptations. My wife is rather particular on that point. I’ve learned to keep an arm’s length from that kind of trouble.”

  Sherman heard a woman’s voice now, older, the undisguised hostility he had heard so often before. “Mr. Green! I do not wish to make acquaintance with the general! Not for one second would I set foot in the same room with him.”

  Green slipped out of the room, his low voice still reaching Sherman. “My mistake, madam. I thought—”

  “I came here to see you, Mr. Green. We are quite put out with all this soldiering business going on throughout the city. It is shameful, and a disgrace.”

  Sherman sat back, was entertained in spite of himself. He leaned out, tried to see the woman’s face, Green blocking his view. Green kept his words low again, said, “What may I do about this, madam?”

  “I had hoped, sir, you would be of such influence as to invite your English friends to right this horrible injustice. Surely there are warships or some such off the coast here. With so many Yankees hereabouts, there should be targets aplenty.”

  “Madam, I cannot, er, rather, I do not have such friends. We are living here in peace, as a courtesy offered by the Federal army. Are you certain you do not wish to meet General Sherman?”

  “I would sooner stab myself with a knitting needle, sir.”

  The voices trailed away, Green leading the woman to some other part of the house, still the patient host. Sherman sat back in the chair, looked over toward Hitchcock, who sat waiting with a pad of paper. Hitchcock kept his eyes toward the doorway, and Sherman smiled, said, “Not all of these people are friendly, I suppose. Some of these ladies have charms that aren’t especially appealing. Quite a difference in attitude between that particular damsel and Mr. Green.”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Quite.”

  The voices returned, Sherman catching the words from Green.

  “I am happy to offer you a tour of the residence, madam. That room up that way is the abode of the general. I have made him most comfortable, in my own bed.”

  The woman’s voice came again, more gruff than before. “If you were a true patriot, sir, you would stick a thousand pins in that bed, and torture the general as he has tortured us!”

  Hitchcock stood now, a show of concern, and Sherman waved him back, said in a whisper, “Let her say her piece. There is a great deal of bark to some of these people, but I am not so concerned about their bite.”

  Hitchcock returned to his chair, pen in hand, Sherman trying again to focus on the letter he was preparing for Henry Halleck. The voice faded away again, and Sherman heard the loud thump of the front door, Green appearing with a look of profound apology.

  “Oh, my word, sir. I’m terribly sorry. Awful woman. Mrs. Grizelda Moodie. Her daughter is somewhat more refined. They are rather upset that Mr. Moodie’s business has been closed down by your security people.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “He runs something of a gambling establishment. It is said that he features charms of a feminine sort. To those willing to pay, of course.”

  “Of course. Gambling and prostitution. One of your more aristocratic families, no doubt.”

  “Ah, well, sir, I have always aimed to do business with anyone, regardless of their place in our society. I am a businessman first. Be assured, however, I did not offer her any promises.”

  “I can offer her one myself, if she lowered herself to speak to me. There is corruption enough surrounding any army in the field. When possible, I have tried to eliminate it. I would promise her to enforce that order to the extreme, in her husband’s case. ‘Torture’ works both ways.”

  Green laughed, just a bit too much enthusiasm. “Ah, why, yes. Very good, sir.”

  “Please leave us, Mr. Green. I have correspondence to put to paper.”

  Sherman knew that Green understood protocol, that he was not privy to any kind of army business. “As you wish, sir. The cook is preparing a fine repast, for six this evening?”

  “See you at six, then.”

  Green was gone now, and Sherman tried to sort through his thoughts, the message he was trying to convey to Washington. Any note sent to Halleck would certainly be spread through every official channel in the capital, and possibly the newspapers as well, a lesson Sherman had learned long ago. The greatest lesson was in choosing his words so as not to cause yet another controversy for anyone who supported his efforts in the field, especially Grant.

  “Where were we, Major?”

  The interruption came again, Green slipping in quietly. “Very sorry again, sir.”

  “What the hell do you want now?”

  “Somewhat of a different circumstance, sir. A Mr. Hardee is here. Claims you know of his brother.”

  Sherman looked at Green, curious, saw nothing to show that Green was playing with him. “Mr. Hardee, as in General Hardee?”

  “Quite so, sir. Mr. Noble Andrew Hardee.”

/>   Sherman looked at Hitchcock, said, “Put the pen away, Major. Go find Dayton, bring him in. McCoy, if he’s still out there. This might be interesting.”

  —

  “You are most generous, sir. I am here only to express my gratitude at the respect you have shown the people of Savannah.”

  Sherman did not expect this kind of graciousness, the man as sincere with his thankfulness as Green had been with his hospitality. “You are older than your brother?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. William…General Hardee is a bit more than ten years my junior. We are most proud of his achievements. Though, of course, my family would prefer his situation to be somewhat more positive.”

  “That’s not likely to change, sir. Your brother is leading a force that is in rebellion against this nation. My duty is to stop that any way possible.”

  “Oh, yes, General, I quite understand. But William has offered you something of a gesture, wouldn’t you say? My presence here, when there were ample opportunities for me to take leave, should convince you that William bears you no ill will. His is a show of faith that I admit took some convincing for me to accept. But, here I am. At your mercy.”

  “That you are.”

  Sherman had already met the wife of the rebel general Gustavus Smith, the woman proving to be another of those prominent Confederates who chose to remain in Savannah. He knew that Hardee was correct, that if the rebel commanders had expected a savage rampage through the city, none of these people would have remained. So, he thought, I am not quite the barbarian the newspapers insist I am.