The Dominion's Dilemma: The United States of British America (82 page)

     Before Tom could finish ordering the men to dismount, DeGraw had them down in the high grass, two privates bundling the reins and leading the horses farther back over the crest of the hill. The CSA party was raising clouds of dust as they came on, riding easily, casually, as if to a dance. The Sergeant Major, a veteran of the Louisiana campaigns, crawled up next to Tom and let loose with another remarkable expectoration of tobacco juice.

     “Arrogant bastards they is, Captain. Nobody ridin’ point. Look at ‘em come prancing up. Like they own the road…”

       Tom smiled but his eyes were hard. “Well, this is Virginia, Sergeant. But we’ll teach them some humility. Right now, though, recognize anyone?”

       DeGraw squinted. “The big top in the gray coat and the blue army pants. That’s Sidney Johnston, I’m thinkin’. Served with him last year in Illinois.”  He turned to Wilder, who had his glasses fixed on the group. Tom gave a grunt of surprise.

      “Johnston, huh? Damn, you’re right... That droopy mustache threw me off. Haven’t seen him since I was a plebe. And looky who’s with him…” Tom pointed towards a tall, slender rider whose blond hair was evident below his hat. “…Haven’t seen
him
since The Point, either. Jeff Davis! Haven’t missed him, either. Figures he’d find his way next to Johnston. They were real tight at The Point…

     Tom rubbed the back of his right hand across his dusty, dry lips.

     “Question is: what are they up to here? Is Johnston taking command? If so, that’s a good indication they’re planning to fight right here. Tell the men to lay low, Sergeant. This hill is as good an observation post as any. We may be here awhile.”

       By now Johnston’s party was riding into the lines, which were flying the same red flags Tom had noticed in his original reconnoiter at Fairfax Court House. He now knew they signified North Carolina. Johnston’s party, however, rode under a new banner: two thick red bars sandwiching an equally thick white one. In the upper corner nearest the stanchion, a blue field with what appeared to be white stars.

      DeGraw nudged Tom and motioned toward the incoming riders. “Not a lotta imagination, huh Captain? Might get confusing in a fight…” Tom quickly nodded.
Damn thing does look like our flag.
Until they got close, I thought it was…

      Johnston and his party were now halted and conferring with what evidently was the Centerville commander. Now some horsemen came down the Pike from the direction of Fairfax.
Damn
,
how’d we miss each other? That could have been nasty…

      Johnston was now standing in his stirrups, peering north through his field glasses. The sun was now starting down and the shadows were darkening the road.  He climbed down and walked through the line, then paced up and down, his arms behind his back.  He turned and said something to Davis, who was vigorously shaking his head. Then Johnston turned, looking up the Pike as more pickets on foot poured in. He walked briskly back behind the defenses and remounted, then appeared to give the North Carolinians’ commander his orders. Then Johnston and his party pulled around and rode hard back toward Bull Run. Within minutes, the entire Reb force was falling back.

     “Well, Sergeant Major, I think we’ve got our report. The Rebs are abandoning Centerville. Looks like the fight’ll be at Bull Run…”

       DeGraw spit another remarkable stream another remarkable distance. They had scouted all the way to the Run together last week. Now they glanced at each other with puckered mouths.

       “Yes Sir, Captain. Just what our mob needs: to ford that damn stream in the middle of those damn woods. Under fire, no doubt.” He grinned humorlessly. “Just like a march across The Plain, eh Captain?”  The ensuing length of his inevitable expectoration defied all logic.

       Carefully, they withdrew to the horses and made their way around the retreating Rebels and back to the lead elements of their own Army. Despite the darkness---or perhaps because of it---they ran right into the Dominion troops.

      The tobacco juice absolutely sizzled as it hit the still-hot sun-baked rocks…

___________

              
THE BATTLEFIELD AT BULL RUN

    While the Dominion forces were making their long trek south from Carlisle to Alexandria, the Confederate army, constantly reinforced by regiments arriving from all across the South, had moved out of Camp Washington and come north. Zach Taylor, in field command, established his headquarters near the crossroads hamlet of New Market. There, the east-west Manassas-Sudley Road intersected with several other roads and trails, opening potential avenues for quick reinforcement at virtually any crossing along the meandering Bull Run stream.

  As General Taylor and his key commanders---David Twiggs and Sidney Johnston---studied hastily drawn maps of the area on the night of October 31, a picture of a potential battlefield resembling, in the later words of one eminent historian of the Rebellion, “a spraddled X,” emerged.

     “Bull Run flowed from the northwest to the southeast to form one cross-member…” wrote the revered historian Shelby Foote. “…Warrenton Turnpike ran arrow straight, southwest-northeast, to form the other.”

      Bull Run, though not particularly deep, was “steep-banked, dominated by high ground and difficult to cross except at fords above and below a stone bridge spanning the Run where the Turnpike intersected it.”

    The CSA commanders agreed that if Winfield Scott was commanding the Dominion advance, the main thrust would come with a battering ram attack across Stone Bridge and two fords just below it, Lewis and Ball’s, reachable from a useable road sprouting off the Warrenton Pike less than two miles east of the Bridge.

    But Scott was laid up in the Infirmary in Georgetown. Had he previously prepared a plan of attack that the two field commanders, Wool and Worth, would follow? Or would the two bickering Dominion officers---their mutual dislike had been legendary in the Old Army---improvise? (The Confederate high command, while respecting Thayer’s performance at The Point in turning out high caliber young officers, scoffed at his tactical talents.) And would Wool and Worth---Taylor still had difficulty believing the Yankees had taken the field without an overall commander---coordinate their improvisations, if indeed they were free to design their own plans of attack?

    With answers to these questions still be to determined, Taylor waited at New Market, ready to make his dispositions once the Yankees moved down the Warrenton Pike from Centreville. Meanwhile, the 1
^st
Virginia Cavalry and other mounted CSA troops were positioned in the hills and woods on either side of the Pike north of Bull Run, watching, ready to send New Market word when the Yankee advance developed.

      In his latest message to General Gaines and President Calhoun, waiting with growing trepidation back in Richmond, Taylor had written:

    “I have pulled the advance elements out of Centreville with the intention of making use of the favorable terrain in and around Bull Run, west of Manassas Junction. As it has taken the Dominion army two full days to advance the 15 miles from Alexandria without opposition, I do not expect the enemy to reach the Run until mid-day, November 3. The battle, I expect, will commence sometime the next day, though whether north or south of the Pike we do not yet hazard a guess. In any case, we are favorably placed to meet them wherever they cross.”

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Centreville, Virginia

November 1, 1833, 9 a.m.:

    Tom and his scouts had grabbed some hot food and a little sleep before going back down the Pike shortly after midnight. They returned by dawn to report that except for a few scouting patrols, the Rebels were back south of the Run. The generals and their two staffs, however, had apparently taken until now to agree on a site and time for a joint planning meeting. So the foot soldiers, as their predecessors of more than four millennia had so often done, waited. In the growing heat of what promised to be another broiling day. At least, pointed out their veteran non-coms, the dust was down. In the army, these volunteers were finding, you learned to appreciate such nuances…

___________

9:30 a.m.:

   The two generals hadn’t really taken three hours to agree on a place to meet. Both Wool and Worth had studied Tom’s latest report, along with those of other scouts sent out overnight, and utilized the early morning to developed proposed plans of attack. The plans, of course, were entirely dissimilar, as Captain Wilder, among others, was soon to discover.

      Wool’s plan was a slightly modified version of the one he had floated a week before in the meeting with Thayer: he would move west off the Pike at a crossing approximately 1 ¼ miles east of the Stone Bridge and lead I Corps up and around the Run, finally crossing at the Sudley Springs fords. This would presumably place him southwest of the Confederate lines hugging the stream and in position to sweep their flank, if not rear. Tacitly acknowledging the dissolution of the Georgetown Defense Force, his plan now called for Worth’s II Corps to demonstrate at the Stone Bridge in order to draw the Rebels to the area in force, but to make its major crossing at Ball’s Ford, about ¾-mile southeast. The attacks would be coordinated to distract the Rebels from Wool’s own advance down from Sudley.

    Worth, on the other hand, wanted I Corps to push across at the Bridge, while he took his Corps across at nearby Lewis and Ball’s fords. “This is the style of attack General Scott would favor. I see no reason to abandon his style in order to attempt a dangerous division of the army with complicated coordinated attacks from positions miles apart.”          

    The two staffs were finally gathered in the Rocky Run Episcopal Chapel on the Pike at Braddock Road. The chapel’s front door had been taken off its hinges and placed across several pews to form a table now littered with maps.

     Wool was contemptuous of the II Corps plan: “Nonsense, General. I will not tie my entire Corps up trying to take one narrow bridge when I can move up and around the enemy and enter the field from the rear. We can forge a true Cannae by rolling them up between our two pincers.  Crush them, Sir, and end this so-called rebellion in one day!”

      Worth was shaking his head angrily. “Roll them up? We aren’t even sure what their dispositions are! All we know for certain is that they’re somewhere back behind this stream. That’s why we must stay consolidated until we’ve crossed and reformed!”

        “On the contrary, General. Their dispositions would be formed for them: your plan forces us through a narrow crossing, like meat through a grinder. They’ll be firing from both sides, grinding us into so much sausage as we feed our troops in piecemeal. No, we need to spread out and take them from both flanks. Catch them in between us and crack them. Like walnuts in a giant nutcracker!”

       Wool banged his hand now on the table before pointing to the Pike junction north of the Bridge. “The army will camp here tonight. I Corps will move west well before dawn. The exact hour will be determined and reported to you. I anticipate forcing the Sudley fords at first light. That will give you more than enough time to move your Corps into position in front of the Bridge and the two other fords.” His finger moved casually to indicate Lewis and Ball’s.

       Worth was now griping his side of the door-table with both hands, battling to control his temper in front of the staffs. Wool smiled coldly. “I see you continue to disagree, Sir. Therefore I suggest a compromise. We remain here today and send for General Thayer. Let him choose the plan of operation. Meanwhile, our troops can be rested and our scouts can determine exactly what Zachary Taylor’s famous ‘dispositions’ are. Do you agree?”

       Bill Worth rapidly ran the consequences through his mind.
This heat wave isn’t
showing signs of breaking, so one more day won’t matter. The troops don’t need rest, but
they do need cohesion; the formations have been coming apart on the march. And I
would
like a better idea of just where Taylor has placed his army…and how many men
he’s got.

     “All right, General Wool. Let’s get General Thayer’s opinion to settle this thing. Meanwhile, let’s get the scouts back out and over the Run.”

      As the two commanders departed the chapel by the different entrances from which they had arrived, Captain Wilder, who had presumably be invited because of his constant reconnoitering of the area in question but had never been called on, looked around at the two staffs. Some were shaking their heads in disbelief, others simply staring at each other, the maps or into space.

    
That Syl Thayer’s an administrative genius is widely accepted. That he’s never demonstrated any tactical skills is just as widely known. And now the college dean will choose between the plans, as if marking final exams
…

___________

CSA Field Headquarters

New Market

November 1, 1833, 12 p.m.:

     “You mean they’re just sittin’ there? No sign of preparations to advance?” Zach Taylor was incredulous. “Just sittin’ in the hot sun?”

      Major Beaufort was grinning. “That’s it precisely, Sir. Their whole army is camped on the south side of Centerville, on both sides of the Pike just below the heights. There’s no indication of imminent movement. The cavalry screen is up close to the Stone Bridge,” he pointed to the map in front of Taylor, “but behind it, there’s no one on the Pike at all. And the artillery is parked east of the village.”

      Davy Twiggs was scratching his beard and pondering the map when Sidney Johnston broke into the conversation. “Pardon me, General, but it occurs that the answer may be rather simple…”