The Railroad War (26 page)

“So I would be wrong,” Johnston said, “in drawing the inference that the twenty-six locomotives were secreted away at your
orders, Walter, in order to preserve them from the ravages of war?”

“Absolutely,” Goodman said without blinking.

“And similarly with you, Griffin? I’d be wrong in drawing the same conclusion with you, that”—he glanced at the paper in front
of him—“you ordered the concealment of twenty-one locomotives?”

“I gave no such order,” Butterworth said.

“And you, Anson,” the general said softly, glancing at the paper, “in your case the number of locomotives is twenty?”

“No, I did not order these locomotives hidden. Indeed, I’m delighted that your officers were able to locate them. Now perhaps
we can save them from that bastard Sherman.”

Johnston turned his attention to the clerk who was taking minutes. “You got all that, Corporal? For the record,”—he gave the
railroad men a sidelong glance to make sure that none of them missed a word he was saying—“please make sure that it is clearly
written in these minutes that Misters Goodman, Butterworth, and Floyd deny any knowledge of or complicity in any effort to
conceal the existence of a total”—he paused to add up the sum—“of sixty-seven locomotives, so as to prevent their risk in
wartime operations.” His tight smile turned wicked. “These gentlemen will sign as true these minutes after they are presented
to me.” He looked at the railroad men. “Does that satisfy you gentlemen?”

“Yes, surely,” Walter Goodman said.

“And,” he turned to Noah and Will Hottel, “I trust that you officers have no evidence to the contrary?”

“None, sir,” Noah said, straightfaced. None that would satisfy a court of law. He had no doubt, of course, that the three
men were lying. But as Will Hottel had pointed out, what good would it do to catch them in their lies? Should we put them
up against the wall and shoot them? That was not a viable choice. It would not save the locomotives, which had become Noah’s
prime objective right now. Hottel had convinced Noah that they’d have to protect the railroad men if they were going to save
the locomotives.

“From what we could learn, and from what we observed,” Hottel said with a glance at Noah, “we have judged that the locations
of the locomotives are consistent with the explanation that these gentlemen have given. It appears that they were simply lost
in the confusion.”

“All right, then,” Johnston said, “I’ll go along with that. “You will be relieved to know, gentlemen, that none of you has
done anything that could be called reprehensible. It is my conviction, and I trust our courts would so decide, that the withholding
for personal gain of material that is of strategic importance to the nation is treason. It appears that none of you is guilty
of such an act, and I’m pleased.”

The railroad men, Noah could see, were breathing easier. And well they might; they’d gotten off the hook. Joe Johnston did
not like to be betrayed by men whom he looked upon as his own kind. If there were actual proof that they had betrayed him,
he would have had their hides.

“Now for the question of what to do about all of this expensive—and more or less unusable—equipment,” Johnston said, sinking
back in his chair and trying to relax.

Walter Goodman and the others looked apprehensive—an apprehension that Noah shared. Noah turned to the general, and the sight
shook him. He hadn’t before realized how haggard and worn Johnston had become since the fall of Jackson. His complexion was
grayish, his eyes were flat and lusterless, his body sagged.

“Excuse me, sir,” Will Hottel said, “but I don’t believe that I would agree with your characterization of the locomotives
as ‘unusable.’ “

Johnston raised his hand to stop Hottel from continuing. “You’ll get your chance to make your case, but not today. I’m not
disposed to listen to opposing arguments today.” As he said that, he glanced significantly at the railroad men.

“As you all know, or can at least guess,” he continued, “there is no longer much point in our trying to maintain a military
presence in Mississippi.” Walter Goodman looked more than a little alarmed, but he didn’t say anything. “I realize that some
of you might take issue with that judgment, but there it is. Our resources are limited, and we need to consolidate our limited
resources as best we may. This is something of a euphemism, gentlemen, for retreat. But whatever it’s called, there’s no help
for it. We’re moving east because that’s where we are right now capable of defending.

“Now, given that, what do we take with us?” He paused and then shifted into the mode of a military-academy lecturer. “Answer:
anything we need that we can carry or move there. Locomotives require tracks. We have no tracks now to the east: ergo we leave
the locomotives behind. Question two: if we leave them, who gets them? Answer: General Ulysses Simpson Grant. That is not
acceptable to me, ergo we will destroy the locomotives.”

“No!” the railroad men cried in a single chorus.

Walter Goodman rose to his feet, evidently believing that that might better make his point.

But the general would have none of that.

“I told you all,” he said, rising to his feet and staring Goodman back down into his seat, “that I am not of a mind today
to entertain opposing views.”

He remained standing. “That, I believe, will be all. Anyone holding opinions on the matters under discussion today will please
put them in writing, and I will deal with them at the appropriate time.

“Meanwhile I’d appreciate it if Major Ballard would remain behind after the other gentlemen depart. He and I will discuss
the implementation of the conclusion of my second corollary.

“That will be all, gentlemen.”

The railroad men seemed staggered by the general’s abrupt decision and his indifference to any arguments to the contrary.
But none of them seemed willing to test the general’s resolve. They stood shakily and uttered polite parting words.

Everyone but Noah began to file out. As they were leaving, Noah examined Will Hottel’s face, trying to make out why the captain
seemed to be taking the general’s decision to destroy the locomotives so quietly and passively. But Noah found no clue. He
seemed, if anything, distracted, as though he were unconcerned about this morning’s calamity. That intrigued Noah, and it
made him realize that he wanted the captain by his side when he had his coming encounter with Joe Johnston.

“Do you think it would be useful,” he asked Johnston, “for Captain Hottel to remain behind with me?”

“No, Major,” Johnston said, shaking his head, “you’ll do splendidly on your own.”

“Yes, sir,” Noah said, trying hard to stifle his annoyance.

After the others had all left through the door at the rear of the car, Johnston asked Noah to take a seat at the conference
table again, and Johnston himself resumed his place at the head of it. His mouth was twisted into a bitter smirk.

“Well, well,” he said. “I guess I’ve fried those bastards’ bacon. What do you think, Major?”

“Sir, I don’t know what to think.”

“I’ll tell you what I
know,
Major. I know that those fine gentlemen were lying. I can read between the lines of that report you wrote as well as the
next man. You don’t just
mislay
machinery worth thousands of dollars. Would Walter Goodman or Griffin Butterworth or Anson Floyd mislay a five-hundred-dollar
slave? Hardly. Those fine gentlemen have done a very evil thing, and I’m going to make sure they are punished for it, punished
where they hurt most—where they hoard their money. And the way I’m going to do that is to have those locomotives destroyed.
Walter and Anson and “Griffin will never again see the money they put into those splendid pieces of iron.”

Then his gaze snapped hard toward Noah. “So tell me, Major, why did you cover for them?”

Noah looked away for a moment, retreating from the general’s attack. The wrong answer here could make an already bad situation
much worse.

He decided, for lack of a better choice, to tell the truth.

“The way I see it, General,” he said, “is this. First, I saw no proof that they hid anything, though you’re right, I’m pretty
sure they did. Second, I didn’t think it would do any good to try to punish them. Third, after I cooled off, I figured they’d
be hurt enough if we took the locomotives out of Mississippi and brought them to Georgia or the Carolinas or Virginia. The
thing is, General, this country needs those locomotives. We don’t need them as scrap metal lying all over northern Mississippi;
we need them hauling loads back east.”

“How are you going to get them back there?” Johnston said almost casually, but Noah could hear the steel hardness in the back
of the general’s throat.

“We’ll take them down to Mobile and barge them over to the other side of Mobile Bay. It should be easy after that.”

“Can’t be done.” His voice was like a crack of lightning.

“I have to respectfully disagree, General. I’m pretty sure that I can do it.”

But Johnston only shook his head. He would not budge.

Noah then considered telling Johnston what he knew about the real mission that Will Hottel was on, but he decided against
it. Hottel had told him specifically that knowledge of his secret orders was to be kept from General Johnston. And though
Noah disagreed, he decided it wasn’t his business to say anything different. If Hottel wanted to tell Johnston what he was
up to, then he could do it himself.

“No, son, no,” Johnston said, mellowing, “it won’t work. Even if you could, as you claim, get those machines to Georgia, it
would cost too much time and too many people. We don’t have anything left that we can spend, son. Nothing.”

“That’s what I’m saying, sir. We don’t have anything we can spend anymore. We can’t build locomotives anymore, and here in
our pockets are sixty-seven splendid locomotives, many of them almost as new as when they came out of the factory.”

“And do you know what would happen once you got them to Georgia or wherever, provided you could somehow bring them there?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I’ll tell you what would happen. You think they will be put into the service of the Confederate States of America. That won’t
happen. Vultures like Walter Goodman or Griffin Butterworth will grab them for their own uses. Every tinhorn railroad president
is going to demand he get some of those locomotives. He’ll find some pressing, overriding, unbeatable reason why he needs
the damn things more than his country. And you know what, Major Ballard? He’ll get them.”

“They’ll go to the Railroad Bureau,” Noah said. “They have to!”

“Why do they have to?”

Because, Noah thought, that is what Will Hottel told me was in his orders, but I can’t say anything about that.

“It’s only reasonable, sir,” Noah said lamely.

“Reason never made even the beginnings of an explanation for any actions of the good and fine gentlemen of the South,” Joe
Johnston said.

“That’s a very gloomy view, sir, of…”

“People like Walter Goodman?” the general interrupted.

“Anyhow, you go and figure out how you are going to wreck all that equipment—what you need, how many people—and then come
back and tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

Noah, believing that the general was done with him, rose to leave.

“Sir, thank you for your time.”

“I didn’t tell you to leave yet,” Johnston snapped. “Sit down, Major.”

“Yes, sir,” Noah said, and took his seat again.

“You know, Major, when it comes down to it, I can understand pretty well what motivates people like Walter Goodman. There’s
probably a more refined and gentle word for it, but ‘greed’ will do until I can think of the kinder word. What I can’t for
the life of me understand is this.” He gave Noah another steel-hard look. “I thought you were a very smart man, Major. Probably
one of the two or three smartest men who’ve ever served under me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Noah ventured.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Johnston snapped. “What I can’t understand,” he continued, “is why a smart man like you would do just
about the most dumb-ass, damn-fool useless stunt I’ve ever heard of.”

Noah knew what was coming, but since there was nothing he could do about it, he just waited for the ax to fall.

“So, Major, enlighten this poor old man. Tell him why a smart man would take on just about singlehanded an entire troop of
Yankee horse soldiers.”

Noah took a breath, as though getting ready to speak.

“Not yet, Major,” Johnston said, raising his hand. “I’m not through with my say yet.” And at that he gave Noah a withering
look. “I have always believed, Major, that our southern officers were the boldest, dashingest, most courageous warriors ever
to walk the earth. And the most foolish, because to them, war isn’t a contest that you have to win—it’s a spectacle where
you have a chance to show off. They’re not after victory; they’re after glory.

“Now I can understand that, just like I can understand Walter Goodman. But you, sir, confound me. What you did, Noah Ballard,
makes no sense either as an attempt at glory or a try for victory. What the hell were you up to, boy? Why did you have to
risk your life, and a good many other lives, too, when the Yankees told you they were going to let you go anyway?”

Noah took another breath, a long one. Then, even though he was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, he straightened himself
up even more. He stared at a point about three feet behind General Johnston’s head.

“Sir,” he said, “I know it was a damn-fool stunt. And I deeply regret it.”

“Well, boy,” Johnston said, “at least your smarts haven’t totally deserted you. But I still don’t know why you did it.”

“I lost my head, sir,” Noah said after a pause. “I was angry, and I saw what seemed to be an opportunity to strike back.”

“And how exactly did you think you could strike back?”

“I know that Colonel Tyler of the First Tennessee claimed that he would have released us after we surrendered to him. And
he probably would have, I admit. But I didn’t
want
to surrender. I thought that if I could reach the engine cab, I might get the train to back up and then we wouldn’t
have
to surrender. And Colonel Tyler and his folks would have egg on their face.”