“Every man should endeavor to understand the meaning of subjugation before it is too late… It means the history of this heroic struggle will be written by the enemy; that our youth will be trained by Northern schoolteachers; will learn from Northern school books their version of the war; will be impressed by the influences of history and education to regard our gallant dead as traitors, and our maimed veterans as fit objects for derision… It is said slavery is all we are fighting for, and if we give it up we give up all. Even if this were true, which we deny, slavery is not all our enemies are fighting for. It is merely the pretense to establish sectional superiority and a more centralized form of government, and to deprive us of our rights and liberties.”
~Maj. General Patrick R. Cleburne, CSA, January 1864
The Confederacy was far more impressive in the realm of military activities than in politics and government. This was due in large measure to the high quality of its military leadership. The persistence of frontier conditions. The menace of hostile Indians, the threat of slave insurrection and attachment to the ideal of chivalry all tended to promote a martial spirit in the South and to lend prestige to the profession of arms. The military academy was a favored institution in antebellum times, and many talented young Southerners obtained appointments to West Point. Among the top ranks of the Confederate army, all full generals and lieutenant generals were alumni of the United States Military Academy, with the exceptions of Nathan Bedford Forrest, Wade Hampton, and Richard Taylor. Out of the 72 major generals and 328 brigadier generals, 124 had graduated from West Point, and an additional ten had attended the academy for at least one year.
Both before, during, and after the war, Southerners placed significant value on military rank. The Confederacy had eight full general and seventeen lieutenant generals, while the union had no full generals and Ulysses S. Grant was the only lieutenant general. Winfield Scott held the rank by brevet, which means the title was honorary.
On the Federal side rank was designated as it is in the American army today, with one star denoting a brigadier, two stars a major general and three stars a lieutenant general. The stars were attached to shoulder straps. All Confederate generals wore the same insignia—three stars in a wreath, attached to the collar (three stars without a wreath indicated a colonel, two stars a lieutenant colonel and one star a major; captains wore three bars, first lieutenants two bars and second lieutenants one bar). In practice, high-ranking officers sometime deviated from the rules specified in uniform regulations. General Lee, for example, appears in photographs wearing the unwreathed stars prescribed for colonels.
The eight full generals, in order of their seniority, were Samuel Cooper (the Adjutant General), Albert Sidney Johnston, Robert Edward Lee, Joseph E. Johnston, Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, Braxton Bragg, Edmund Kirby Smith and John Bell Hood. The lieutenant generals, in order of seniority, were James Longstreet, Leonidas Polk, William J. Hardee, Thomas J. Jackson, Theophilus Hunter Holmes, John C. Pemberton, Richard S. Ewell, Ambrose Powell Hill, Daniel Harvey Hill, Richard Taylor, Jubal Anderson Early, R. H. Anderson, S. D. Lee, A. P. Stewart, Simon B. Buckner, Wade Hampton, and Nathan Bedford Forrest. Joseph Wheeler and John Brown Gordon were commonly listed as lieutenant generals, but Ezra J. Warner, author of Generals in Gray and best authority on the subject, concludes that they were never officially promoted to the rank.
As a group, Confederate general represented tremendous variations. The eldest, David E. Twiggs, was seventy-one when the war began; William P. Roberts was the youngest, just twenty years old at the time, and only twenty-three when he earned his wreathed stars on February 21, 1865. Young officers outnumbered the older ones; in fact, seventy Confederates who achieved the rank of brigadier were still in their twenties at the start of the war. Overall, the average age of the 425 men who eventually donned the three wreathed stars ranged from thirty-five to forty years old.
Before the war, most of the 425 Confederate generals held positions as lawyers, planters, or businessmen. Among them, twenty-four had been involved in politics and fifteen had worked as educators. Only 125 were professional soldiers by trade. Their abilities in speaking and writing were generally solid. The spectrum of their educational backgrounds ranged from Nathan Bedford Forrest, who had received only about six months of formal education, to James Johnston Pettigrew, who graduated from the University of North Carolina with honors at age nineteen, spent two years teaching at the Washington naval observatory, and then dedicated another two years to studying and traveling in Europe.
As products of a culture deeply rooted in ideals of chivalry, these military leaders tended to honor women, stand unwaveringly by their companions, take offense readily at any perceived slight, value many admirable qualities, and consistently demonstrate courteous behavior in their interactions. Sensitiveness to honor associated with chivalry, exaggerated individualism nurtured by the plantation system and the usual tensions created by the war led to a shocking amount of strife between the generals. Robert Toombs challenged his superior, Daniel H. Hill, to a duel after Hill reproved him for the manner in which he handled his brigade at Malvern Hill. Nathan B. Forrest strode into Bragg’s tent on October 1863, after transfer of his troops to Joe Wheeler without notification or explanation and said: “You have played the part of a damned scoundrel, and you are a coward, and if you were any part of a man, I would slap your jaws and force you to resent it. You may as well not issue any more orders to me for I will not obey them…If you ever again try to interfere with me or cross my path it will be at the peril of your life.” Bitter controversy raged between Floyd and Wise, Longstreet and McLaws, Price and Holmes, Kirby Smith and Richard Taylor, and several others. In some instances, differences were not confined to the exchange of angry words. In September 1863, Brigadier General John S. Marmaduke killed Brigadier General Lucius M. Walker in a duel growing out of Marmaduke’s alleged impugnment of Walker’s courage in battle. Three days before Lee’s surrender, Colonel George W. Baylor fatally shot Major John A. Wharton during a heated argument in a Houston hotel. In June 1863, Nathan Beford Forrest, after receiving a bullet from an aggrieved subordinate, Lieutenant A. W. Gould, fatally stabbed his assailant with a knife.
Several distinct types were to be found among high-ranking military leaders. This romantic cavalier was represented by the dashing “Jeb” Stuart, who surrounded himself with friendly companions, wore a feather in his hat and delighted in the smiles and plaudits of beautiful women, but who was tremendously effective in reconnaissance and on the battlefield. The beau sabreur was typified by the handsome and able Earl Van Dorn, whose flirtations were the subject on much comment among both soldiers and civilians and who died of a bullet fired by a jealous husband at Spring Hill, Tennessee, in May 1863. Hardly less glamourous than Stuart and Van Dorn were John Hunt Morgan, gallant and good-looking equestrian from the Kentucky Bluegrass; “Fighting Joe” Wheeler, youthful, hard-hitting cavalryman of Georgia and Alabama; and George E. Pickett, the vain but valiant Virginian who led the desperate assault at Gettysburg on the third day. According to G. Moxley Sorrel, Longstreet’s chief of staff, Pickett wore his hair in long ringlets, “trimmed and highly perfumed,” and in the spring of 1863 slipped away from his command at night, sometimes without leave, to court the beautiful LaSalle Corbell whom he was to marry later that year.
The sociable and convivial type was well represented by Humphrey Marshall of Kentucky, who was equally at ease whether sharing good times at a lively gathering or engaging in spirited debate on the campaign trail. Once, after a hearty drinking session, he urged his men to push the war through to a successful conclusion even if they had to wade waist deep in blood. One of the men who had not imbibed as freely as Marshall broke in at this point to remark, “General, that’s too deep for me. I only contracted to go in knee deep.”
The archetype of the noble warrior was embodied by Wade Hampton, the towering South Carolinian who rallied his neighbors, sons, and even household servants to form Hampton’s Legion. His leadership in the early battles was so effective that he steadily climbed the ranks, ultimately taking command of Lee’s cavalry after Stuart’s death. Hampton was wounded three times in combat, and during the fighting at Hatcher’s Run in October 1864, both his sons, Preston and Wade, were injured—Preston fatally—while under their father’s command. Arriving at the scene, Hampton dismounted, cradled his dying son, whispered a heartfelt “My son, my son,” kissed him goodbye, and then quickly mounted his horse and returned to the fight.
Scattered among the 425 generals were a considerable number of characters. One of these was Ambrose Powell Hill, who flaunted danger by wearing a red shirt on the battlefield, but whose prowess in combat was attested by the fact that both Jackson and Lee called for him in their dying deliriums. Despite the gaudy shirt and much reckless exposure he lived on until near the very end of hostilities when his life was snuffed out by a Federal bullet as he rode out to repel the Federal breakthrough near Petersburg on April 2, 1865. Daniel H. Hill was in many respects more unusual than Ambrose P. Hill. Harvey, as he was called to distinguish him from the other Hill, he was a caustic man who apparently knew not the meaning of fear. In the thick of the battle, he would sit out in an open place on his horse, one foot thrown across the pommel of his saddle, the bullets whizzing about his head surveying the scene as calmly as if he were back on the campus of Davidson College where he taught mathematics before the war. He was devoted to the men who carried the muskets but had little use for those in the supporting services. Once when a bugler applied for a furlough, Hill turned him down this comment: “Disapproved—shooters before tooters.” Hill’s frequent indulgence in sharp criticism, which may have been due in part to his ulcerous stomach, aroused much enmity among his associates and brought him into disfavor with President Davis. But he never lost the admiration and affection of his men.
Another odd character was Richard Stoddert Ewell, known as “Old Bald Head,” by the soldiers. General John B. Gordon, who served under Ewell, described him as “a compound of anomalies, the oddest, most eccentric genius in the Confederate army.” When Gordon first met him on the morning of the First Manassas, Ewell shocked the young officer by saying: “Come and eat a cracker with me; we will breakfast together here and dine together in hell.” Ewell had a high-pitched, squeaky voice and spoke with a lisp. His smooth dome, bulging eyes and tilted head gave him the appearance of a woodcock. He was an exceedingly modest man, and at a most serious moment was apt to pipe out the question: “Now why do you suppose President Davis made me a general anyway?” He was much given to profanity in the early part of the war but after his marriage to widow Brown in 1863 he became more careful of both his language and his life. So absent-minded was he and so habituated to bachelorhood, that for some time after his marriage we would occasionally introduce his bride as “my wife, Mrs. Brown.” Ewell was an aggressive and reliable division leader while operating under Jackson, but loss of a leg at Groveton impaired his mobility and possibly affected his mental outlook. He was considerably less impressive as a corps commander, entrusted with the discretionary authority habitually conferred by Lee on his principal subordinates. His failure to seize Cemetery Hill or Culp’s Hill on July 1, 1863, is considered by many to have been the turning point at Gettysburg. True, in not pressing forward he was acting within the spirit of Lee’s broad directive; but Major Sandie Pendleton, who served as adjutant to both Jackson and Ewell, expressed a widespread feeling when he quietly remarked late in the afternoon of July 1, 1863: “Oh for the presence and inspiration of Old Jack just for one hour.”
No less of a character than Ewell was his friend and subordinate, Jubal Anderson Early. Both were profane, hard-fighting, rough and ready-to-combat commanders. “Old Jubilee,” when told at a critical point in battle that the enemy could not be driven across a stream for lack of ammunition, replied: “Then, damn it, holler ‘em across,” and it was done. Another story about Early, which was told about the campfires with much relish had to do with a chaplain. When “Old Jube” saw a uniformed minister heading rapidly for the rear at Fredericksburg, he shouted: “Chaplain, where are you going?”
“General, I am going to a place of safety in the rear,” replied the minister.
Early immediately retorted: “Chaplain, I have known you for the past thirty years, and all that time you have been trying to get to Heaven, and now that the opportunity is offered, you are felleing from it, sir. I am surprised.”
Still another Early anecdote relates to his conduct at a religious service near the end of the war. At the close of a sermon the minister stated with feeling: “Suppose, my Christian friends, that those who have laid for centuries in their graves should arise now and come forth from their quiet resting places, and, marching in their white shrouds, should pass before this congregation, by the thousands and tens of thousands, what would be the result?” The hush that followed was broken by Early’s loud whisper to his companion: “Ah, I’d conscript every damned one of them.”
Early had a drive and a combativeness akin to that of Jackson, but he fell considerably short of Stonewall’s resourcefulness and genius. He had his times of greatness, as at the First and Second Manassas, but he seems to have become overconfident when sent to oppose Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley and he never quite measured up as an independent commander. He lacked Ewell’s modesty and warmth, and he had more than his share of ambition. But there was never any question about his bravery, and his total war record was one of which he could be rightly proud.
Except for Samuel Cooper, the Confederacy’s full generals were army or commanders. The most illustrious of these and the most revered of all the South’s military leaders was Robert E. Lee. On March 1, 1862, William H. Trescot, distinguished South Carolina diplomat, wrote to a friend: “Lee is the only man in the revolution whom I have met that at all rises to historical size.” This discerning estimate, made while Lee was relatively obscure, was to be abundantly confirmed by subsequent events.
Robert Edward Lee, fifth child of “Light-Horse Harry” and Ann Carter Lee, was born January 19, 1807. Following graduation and second in the class of 1829 at West Point, he was engaged in various engineer duties until 1846 when he joined forces of General Winfield Scott in the campaign which led to the capture of Mexico City. His service in the Mexican War won him three brevets for gallantry and the high praise of his superiors. He was superintendent of West Point from 1852 to 1855 and was appointed lieutenant colonel of the Second Calvary in 1855. He was promoted to colonel on March 16, 1861. His letters to his family during the secession crisis indicate deep devotion to the Union and great annoyance with extremists of both sections. Like many Southerners of the time, he felt a greater attachment to his state than to the nation. When Virginia seceded, he turned down an offer to command the Federal forces and espoused the cause of the Old Dominion and the South. After a brief tour as commander of Virginia state forces he entered Confederate service on May 14, 1861. His initial assignment of repelling the Federal invasion of western Virginia was beset with too many difficulties and was not successful. Jefferson Davis ignored the criticism unjustifiably directed at Lee and in March of 1862, became commanding general of the Army of Norther Virginia. He held this position for the rest of the war. After February 6, 1865, he served also as general in chief of the Confederate armies.
In the Seven Days’ Campaign, June 26 to July 1, 1862, Lee’s command performance left much to be desired. His plan was overly elaborate, staff work was lamentably deficient, and movements were poorly coordinated. But Richmond was saved and Lee learned valuable lessons from his first attempt to direct an army into battle. How well he learned was vividly demonstrated by his brilliant victory over Pope at Second Manassas, August 29-20, 1862. The Sharpsburg Campaign, coming immediately thereafter, might be called a draw, and Fredericksburg was such a great Federal blunder as to make relatively little demand on Lee’s talents as a commander. At Chancellorsville, May 1-3, 1863, “Marse Robert,” after being outmaneuvered in the initial stage, seized the initiative and won a smashing victory over “Fighting Joe” Hooker. Here in the most impressive manner Lee demonstrated the resourcefulness, boldness, character, and genius of the duty of the truly great commander.
Never again did Lee shine with the brilliance manifested at Chancellorsville. At Gettysburg he revealed some of the weaknesses showing during the Seven Days. Staff work was poor, orders were imprecise (particularly those given to Stuart), and coordination was wanting. But Lee was operating at considerable disadvantage. His supply lines were over-extended; he was unfamiliar with the country; two of his corps commanders were new; and Lee himself, according to Colonel W. W. Blackford, was sick with diarrhea. Moreover, the union forces, in leadership, training and equipment, were greatly superior to those encountered in the early battles. After Gettysburg, the increasing disparity between Lee’s strength and that of his opponents forced him to assume a defensive role. In this capacity he proved a formidable antagonist. During the thirty days from the Wilderness to the Second Cold Harbor he inflicted 55,000 casualties on Grant’s forces and compelled the Union commander to shift to the slow but certain siege which, after nine months, brought about the surrender at Appomattox.
As great as Lee was as a field commander, he was even greater as a man. He was a considerate and affectionate father and husband. In January 1864, he wrote his wife: “I would rather be in a hut with my own family than in a palace with others.” But he scrupulously denied himself and his family any comforts or favors not available to others. Early in 1864, Mary Lee wrote to her husband asking him to appoint their son, Bob, to his staff. The General replied: “His company would be a great pleasure and a comfort to me, and he would be extremely useful to me in various ways…But I am opposed to officers surrounding themselves with their sons and relatives. It is wrong in principle and in that case the selection of officers would be made from private and social relations rather than the public good…I should prefer Bob’s being in the line, in an independent position, where he could rise by his own merit.”
He was tolerant, tactful, modest and magnanimous. After Gettysburg, instead of criticizing the President for not sending reinforcements that he had requested or berating his subordinates for their shortcomings, he manfully assumed complete responsibility for his failure. One of the sublimest statements in the history of warfare in his remark to General Pickett after the climatic charge of July 3: “This has been my fight and upon my shoulders rests the blame…Your men have done all that men could do. The fault is entirely my own.” His one great weakness was a commander, according to Douglas Southall Freeman, was “excessive consideration for others.”
He was a deeply religious man, and while he was not the teetotaler represented by his biographers (his war letters to his wife indicate that he occasionally drank brandy, and possibly whiskey, for medical purposes), he was remarkably chaste in habit and speech. Douglas Southall Freeman stated after completing many years of research for the four-volume biography that he had not been able to find any evidence of the use by Lee of a single profane or obscene word or phrase.
But Lee was no prig. He possessed a lively sense of humor. He liked to tease his daughters. He was keenly sensitive to feminine charm and from early adulthood to old age he delighted in associating with beautiful women.
Duty was the guiding rule of his life. On one occasion he stated: “There is a true glory and a true honor, the glory of duty done, the honor of integrity of principle.” To his son he wrote: “I know that wherever you may be placed, you will do your duty. That is all the pleasure, all the comfort, all the glory we can enjoy in this world.”
In the face of defeat, he demonstrated extraordinary greatness. Lee wholeheartedly accepted the outcome of the war, understanding that Federal victory signified the supremacy of national authority over states' rights. He recognized that his primary allegiance now belonged to the United States rather than to Virginia. After retiring his Confederate uniform and sword, Lee devoted himself to being a dedicated citizen, encouraging his fellow Southerners and former comrades to do the same. For him, good citizenship involved helping to rebuild the devastated South and contributing to its recovery, so that it could thrive as an integral part of a unified nation. During his final years as president of Washington College, Lee focused on preparing young Southerners to lead productive lives in a reunified America. In this way, the most honorable Confederate became a model American.
Just as Lee was undoubtedly the greatest of the Southern army commanders, Beauregard stood out as the most charismatic. Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard was born on a plantation near New Orleans to a distinguished French family and grew up speaking only French at home. Between the ages of eleven and fifteen, he attended a New York school run by two former officers of Napoleon, which sparked a lifelong admiration for the famed Corsican general. Throughout his career as a Confederate commander, Beauregard saw himself as a kind of second Napoleon, even striking similar poses in his photographs to evoke the legendary hero of Ulm and Austerlitz. After graduating second in his class at West Point in 1838, Beauregard served with notable distinction in the Mexican War. In early 1861, he resigned his captain’s commission in the U.S. Army and was swiftly appointed a brigadier general for the Confederacy. His dramatic and successful assault on Fort Sumter in April 1861 instantly catapulted him to widespread fame.
His stunning triumph at First Manassas quickly turned him into a household name throughout the Confederacy. People named their children, pets, and even military marches after him, while his battlefield achievements were celebrated in poetry and song. He received countless requests from female admirers for locks of his dark, curly hair. Few men ever basked in such admiration or embraced it as enthusiastically.
Beauregard’s relationship with President Jefferson Davis soured after he released a report accusing Davis of failing to capitalize on the Confederate victory at First Manassas. The situation worsened when Beauregard decided to halt the fighting at Shiloh following Albert Sidney Johnston’s death on April 6, 1862, which further irritated Davis. Not long after, Beauregard took sick leave without first notifying Richmond authorities, prompting Davis to remove him from command of the Army of Tennessee. In August 1862, Beauregard was appointed to lead the Department of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida, where his skillful defense of Charleston the next year stood out as one of his major accomplishments. He was reassigned to Virginia in the spring of 1864 and played a key role in saving Petersburg and Richmond that June, when Grant redirected his troops across the James River to attack Lee from the south. By October 1864, Beauregard was placed in command of the Military Division of the West, and he ended his Confederate service as second-in-command against W. T. Sherman’s advancing forces. After the war, he oversaw the Louisiana Lottery and served as Commissioner of Public Works in New Orleans. He passed away on February 20, 1893. According to Professor T. Harry Williams, Beauregard’s foremost biographer, he should be regarded as a competent general, though not among the greats—a judgment that appears well-founded.
Braxton Bragg, a North Carolina native, succeeded Beauregard as commander of the Army of Tennessee in June 1862. Jefferson Davis, having developed a strong opinion of Bragg during the Mexican War, anticipated remarkable achievements from him. However, when Bragg did not demonstrate exceptional leadership and widespread criticism mounted, Davis perceived these attacks on Bragg as indirect criticism of his own decisions. Despite repeated setbacks, Davis steadfastly supported Bragg, leading many to label the General as “Jeff Davis’s Pet.”
After graduating from West Point in 1837, Bragg began his military career by fighting against the Seminole Indians and later led an artillery battery under General Zachary Taylor during the Mexican War. His outstanding performance at Buena Vista earned him a brevet promotion to lieutenant colonel. In 1856, Bragg left the army to focus on plantation management and engineering work in Louisiana. He returned to military service on February 23, 1861, as a brigadier general in the Confederate army, taking charge of defending the coastal regions between Mobile and Pensacola. Elevated to major general in March 1862, Bragg soon commanded a corps under Albert Sidney Johnston and played a prominent role at the Battle of Shiloh, after which he attained the rank of full general.
Known for his strict discipline and administrative expertise, Bragg made significant contributions to the Southern war effort in non-combat roles. However, Shiloh proved to be the peak of his battlefield leadership. In the fall of 1862, he led a campaign into Kentucky, but his poor management resulted in limited success. Again, after seizing the advantage at Murfreesboro on December 31, 1862, he failed to press his gains, and within three days, relinquished the battlefield to Union forces. A similar pattern followed after his victory at Chickamauga on September 20, 1863, causing his corps commanders to lose faith in his leadership. Despite mounting criticism, President Davis did not replace Bragg until the disastrous defeat at Missionary Ridge on November 25, 1863, prompted Bragg to request to be relieved of command.
Afterward, Davis assigned Bragg to Richmond, where he oversaw military operations for all Confederate armies under presidential guidance. Later in 1864, Bragg was appointed to lead the Department of North Carolina, and on March 19, 1865, fought with his former soldiers at Bentonville under General Joseph E. Johnston. Following the war, Bragg worked as an engineer in Alabama and Texas. He passed away in Galveston on September 27, 1876.
Bragg seemed to have aroused more criticism than any other high-ranking Confederate general. On July 20, 2963, a Louisiana private wrote in his diary: “The most he is fit for is the command of a brigade and he would make a damned poor brigadier.” Much of the adverse comment about Bragg was based on prejudice or hearsay. But William W. Mackall who was Bragg’s chief of staff and who credited him with industry, patriotism and integrity, considered him erratic and emotionally unstable. On September 29, 1863, Mackall wrote his family: “ He is very earnest at his work, his whole soul is into it, but his manner is repulsive…he is easily flattered and fond of seeing reverence for his high position…If he don’t want news to be true, he will listen to nothing…and if it proves true, he is not prepared to meet it…I tell you frankly, I am afraid of his Generalship…He has not genius…His mind in not fertile, nor is his judgement good.” In the light of history, this discerning seems to hit very close to the truth.
One of the most controversial army commanders was Joseph Eggleston Johnston, who headed the Army of Northern Virginia (officially called the Army of the Potomac until March 14, 1862) from June 20, 1861, to May 31, 1862, and the Army of Tennessee from December 18, 1863, to July 17, 1864, and from February 23 to April 26, 1865. During the war some Confederate authorities, including Jefferson Davis, declared him overcautious, slow and uncooperative. Other contemporaries praised him for his tactical skill, his quiet dignity and the high esteem in which he was held by his officers and men. Present-day experts seem no nearer agreement concerning his personality and abilities than his fellow Confederates were. Gilbert E. Govan and James W. Livingood, in their biography, A Different Valor, give him a high rating; but Clifford Dowdey, a leading historian of the Confederacy, repeatedly refers to him as “Retreatin’ Joe” in The Land They Fought For.
Johnston was a native Virginian of distinguished parentage. He graduated from West Point in 1829 and in the years following he held various artillery and engineering assignments. He made a splendid record in the Mexican War and came out of that conflict with five wounds and a brevet lieutenant colonelcy. In June 1860, he became Quartermaster General of the United States Army with rank of brigadier general. When Virginia seceded, Johnston resigned from the Federal service and shortly afterward became a Confederate brigadier. He was the ranking general at First Manassas and shared with Beauregard the laurels won on that field. On August 31, 1861, President Davis, in nominating the five full generals authorized by Congress, specified the order of their rank thus: first, Samuel Cooper; second, Albert Sidney Johnston; third, Robert E. Lee; fourth Joseph E. Johnston; and fifth, P. G. T. Beauregard. A law of March 14, 1861, stated that Federal officers entering Confederate service should have the same relative rank that they had in the old army. Since Johnston was the only Confederate who held a general’s commission at the time of resignation from the Federal army, he expected to rank first among the Southern generals. When he learned that Davis had placed him below three others, he wrote the President protesting against “the wrong” which had been done to him asserting that “I still rightfully hold the rank of first general in the Armies of the Southern Confederacy.” Davis, much offended by the letter, immediately wrote in reply: “Its language is, as you say, unusual; its arguments and statements utterly one sided, and its insinuations as unfounded as they are unbecoming.” After the war Davis justified ranking Johnston fourth on the ground that he held his general’s commission in the old army by virtue of a staff appointment; but the Confederate law made no distinction between the rank of line and staff officers and Davis was inconsistent in that he placed Samuel Cooper, whose highest rank in the United States army was captain who had never risen above colonel in a staff position, three notches above Johnston. Obviously, the President did not want Johnston to outrank Cooper, Sidney Johnston and Lee, all of whom were Davis’s good friends. It is possible, but not provable, hostile feelings existed between Davis and Johnston because of an old quarrel, or because of friction between their wives. Be that as it may, the two were never on cordial terms after September 1861. Johnston’s subsequent actions were colored by a deep-seated suspicion that the President bore a grudge toward him and that Davis would not hesitate to use unfair means to undermine him. Relations were not helped by the fact that both men were proud, sensitive and hard-headed.
Johnston felt deeply let down when Davis chose not to return him to leadership of the Army of Northern Virginia after he recovered from his injury at Seven Pines. He was unhappy with his appointment to head the Department of the West on November 24, 1862, as it did not appeal to his preference for active field duty. However, when he was assigned to command the Army of Tennessee in December 1863, Johnston was far more enthusiastic, enjoying both the field role and the warm welcome from his officers and soldiers. Still, he was aware that Davis had given him the position reluctantly and with reservations, and close allies like Senator Louis T. Wigfall and other influential supporters cautioned him to remain vigilant against any political maneuvering by the President.
Despite facing overwhelming odds, Johnston conducted a skillful and determined defense against Sherman during the Georgia campaign of 1864. However, he was compelled to retreat steadily toward Atlanta, a process that drew mounting criticism from civilians. His naturally reserved nature and deep mistrust of President Davis led him to keep his strategies largely private. On July 17, 1864, Johnston was relieved of his command and directed to transfer leadership of the army to General Hood. The news of his removal deeply affected his troops; many openly wept. As one officer wrote on July 19, “With his troops nothing he did was wrong. He was beloved far beyond any commander that ever controlled any portion of the army.” When Lee reinstated Johnston in February 1865, the battle-worn survivors of Hood’s disastrous Tennessee campaign greeted him with enthusiasm, reaffirming their loyalty in the final engagement at Bentonville on March 19, where they fought valiantly under his command once more. After the war, Johnston served a term in Congress and was appointed commissioner of railroads. He passed away on March 21, 1891, after contracting a fatal illness from standing bareheaded in the rain as an honorary pallbearer at the funeral of his friend and former adversary, William T. Sherman.
Albert Sidney Johnston was the only Confederate army commander to be killed in action and the sole one to die during the war. He was an exceptionally admirable individual, whose character and personality closely mirrored that of Robert E. Lee.
Johnston was born on February 2, 1803, at Washington, Kentucky, and attended Transylvania University before entering the United States Military Academy. Following his graduation from West Point in 1826, he performed routine tours at various army posts and took part in the Black Hawk War. He resigned his commission in 1834 and in July 1836, moved to Texas where he served in the Texas army, first as a private, then as an adjutant general and finally as commanding general. During the war with Mexico, he was colonel of the First Texas Rifled and inspector general under William O. Butler. In the 1850’s he served successively as paymaster of the United States Army in Texas, colonel of the Second Calvary and brevet brigadier in the Mormon war. In January 1861, he took command of the Department of the Pacific, but when Texas seceded, he resigned his commission and made his way overland to Richmond. President Davis appointed him genera; and put him charge of the Western Department where he commanded the field forces that eventually became the Army of Tennessee. Appalling shortages of men and arms made it impossible for him to hold the long line for which he was responsible. He was severely criticized during the war and afterward for entrusting the defense of Fort Donelson to subordinates instead of taking on himself the protection of that vital point. But Professor Charles P. Roland, the best authority on Johnston, questions the validity of the censure, and Jefferson Davis’s reply to those who urged Johnston’s replacement after the fall of Fort Donelson was: “If Sidney Johnston is not a general, I have none.” Following the loss of Donelson, Johnston evacuated Nashville, concentrated his forces at Corinth and set out on April 3, 1862, to defeat Grant before Buell could re-enforce him. Bad roads, inexperienced officers and poor discipline slowed the march and forced a day’s postponement of the fight—a delay which very well may have spelled the difference between victory and defeat for the Southerners.
Johnston seemed confident as his troops began the attack early Sunday morning, April 6. “Tonight, we will water our horses in the Tennessee River.” he said. At first the battle went well for the Confederates, but they soon ran into stubborn resistance. As General Johnston sat on his horse about 2:00 P.M., after leading a charge near the “Hornets’ Nest,” a Federal bullet severed an artery in his leg, and he bled to death in a matter of minutes. A brief time before, he had sent his personal physician, D. W. Yandell, to care for some captured Federals, so he died without medical attendance. Whether or not he would have won a victory if he had lived is a debatable question. So is his capacity for high command. He did not have ample opportunity to prove his abilities. Professor Roland makes the point that if Grant, Sherman, Lee, and others who eventually achieved success had been killed as early in the conflict as was Johnston, their fame would be considerably less than it is. Certainly, Johnston’s death was regarded at the time as a crippling blow to the Confederacy. President Davis summed up prevailing statement when he said: “Our loss is reparable…There exists no purer spirit, no more heroic soul than of that illustrious man whose death I will join you in lamenting.”
The youngest of the Confederate army commanders, John Bell Hood, was renowned for his exceptional courage and is remembered in history as “the gallant Hood,” a title he earned through his fearless service. However, “the tragic Hood” is equally fitting, as his career illustrates the dangers of rising too quickly through the ranks—excelling in subordinate roles but ultimately overwhelmed by higher command.
Born in Bath County, Kentucky, on June 1, 1831, Hood entered West Point in 1849 and graduated in 1853, ranking near the bottom of his class. He served in the western territories, including stints with the Second Cavalry under the leadership of Albert Sidney Johnston and Robert E. Lee. When the Civil War began, Hood resigned his U.S. Army commission in April 1861 to join the Confederacy as a lieutenant. Standing six feet two inches tall with a powerful build, Hood’s physical presence, affable nature, boundless energy, and relentless drive to shape his men into an elite force quickly caught the attention of his superiors, leading to rapid advancement. He was promoted to brigadier general on March 2, 1862, and soon took command of the famed Texas Brigade.
Hood’s outstanding leadership of his brigade at Gaines’ Mill, Second Manassas, and Sharpsburg brought lasting recognition to both the unit and its commander. With the support of generals Jackson and Lee, Hood was promoted to major general on October 11, 1862. The rigors of combat took their toll: he suffered a severe arm wound at Gettysburg and lost his right leg at Chickamauga. During a lengthy recovery in Richmond, Hood courted the unpredictable Sally Preston and gained the favor of President and Mrs. Davis. While the romance did not last, Hood remained in the President’s good graces and was considered for further advancement.
On February 1, 1864, Hood was promoted to lieutenant general and given command of a corps under Joseph E. Johnston. Dissatisfied with Johnston’s cautious approach, Hood’s correspondence with Davis and Bragg bordered on insubordination, expressing his frustration with his superior’s defensive strategies. On July 17, 1864, Hood succeeded Johnston, accepting the challenge to launch aggressive operations in the Atlanta campaign. He engaged Union forces in a series of battles from July 20 to 22, suffering defeat. Hood’s subsequent offensive into Tennessee ended disastrously, with crippling losses at Franklin and Nashville that decimated a once-formidable army. These failures underscored the harsh reality that, despite his earlier brilliance leading brigades and divisions, Hood struggled to command at the corps and army levels, ultimately facing challenges that surpassed his abilities.
Hood’s misfortunes did not cease with the war. Business reverses in New Orleans reduced him to poverty. On August 24, 1879, his wife died of yellow fever. His eldest daughter passed away on August 30 and on the same day “the gallant Hood” breathed his last, leaving parentless ten young children.
The second youngest among the Confederate army commanders was Edmund Kirby Smith, born on May 16, 1824, in St. Augustine, Florida. Smith graduated from the U.S. Military Academy in 1845, and during the Mexican War, he served with distinction under both Taylor and Scott, earning two brevet promotions for gallantry. In April 1861, he joined the Confederate Army as a lieutenant colonel. Two fortunate changes in his assignments led him to Lynchburg, where his commendable performance, advantageous connections, and timely opportunities quickly propelled him to brigadier general. Another stroke of luck brought Smith and his brigade to Manassas just in time to play a decisive role in the Confederate victory on July 21, 1861, earning Jefferson Davis’s lasting appreciation. Smith was promoted to major general on October 11, 1861.
During the 1862 Kentucky campaign with Bragg, Smith demonstrated his skill as a combat leader, which led to his promotion to lieutenant general. On January 14, 1863, he was given command of the Southwestern Army, and the following month he succeeded T. H. Holmes as the commanding general of the Trans-Mississippi Department. In 1864, Smith was promoted to the rank of full general. While he established his reputation as an exceptional field commander, his role as departmental head became largely administrative. Following the fall of Vicksburg, the vast territory west of the Mississippi effectively became a separate Confederacy, and Smith faced immense and challenging responsibilities. Although his performance as an administrator was less impressive than his battlefield leadership. It is unlikely that any general besides possibly Lee could have managed better under such circumstances. After the war, Smith dedicated himself to education, ultimately serving as a professor of mathematics at the University of the South for eighteen years. He was the last surviving full general of the Confederacy, passing away on March 28, 1893.
Nearly all the lieutenant generals were corps commanders, and of these the most outstanding was Thomas Jonathan Jackson. Many regard him as the foremost combat commander of the Civil War and some rate him as the very best of all time. As is often the case with geniuses, he had some idiosyncrasies. He dressed shabbily and seemed utterly unconcerned about his appearance. He was a chronic lemon sucker. He liked to eat his meals standing up, to straighten out his intestinal tract and facilitate digestion. Imagining himself out of balance, we would walk around with one arm upraised to restore his equilibrium. He was deeply religious, but his piety was of the Old Testament sort that delighted in slaying the Yankee Philistines and giving God all the glory. He loved children, old women, and preachers, but behind his soft eyes and his gentle expression smoldered ambition and a sternness which caused him to drive his men relentlessly on a march and in battle flamed up to convert him into a ruthless killer. When he heard that General Ewell at Port Republic advised his men not to shoot a Federal officer who bravely exposed himself while exhorting his men, he rebuked his subordinate thus: “This is no ordinary war. The brave and the gallant Federal officers are the very kind that must be killed. Shoot the brave officers and the cowards will run away and take the men with them.” Because of his strange ways Jackson’s men at first called him “Old Fool Tom Jackson,” but after a while they gave him the nickname “Old Blue Foot” and as long as they lived, they took enormous pride in the fact they were “Old Jack’s boys.”
Jackson was born on January 21, 1824, in Clarksburg, Virginia. His parent died in his early childhood, and he was reared in humble circumstances by an uncle. At West Point, where he enrolled in 1842, he had great difficulty with his studies, but by diligent application he gradually overcame the handicap of poor preparation. When he graduated in 1846, he ranked seventeenth in a class of fifty-nine. After distinguished service in the Mexican War he was stationed at various army posts in the United States. In Florida in 1851 he and his superior became involved in a petty quarrel that reflected no credit on either of them. Before the controversy was settled, Jackson accepted a professorship at Virginia Military Institute.
Jackson began his Civil War service as a colonel of Virginia militia in command of the state forces at Harpers Ferry. He became a Confederate brigadier on June 17, 1861. A month later, at First Manassas, he won the appellation “Stonewall”; henceforth, it was his hallmark. He was promoted to major general on August 7, 1861, and after an unimpressive winter expedition against Romney he launched a campaign in the Shenandoah Valley which was so brilliantly executed as to assure him lasting fame as a military leader. This is not to say that his generalship was flawless but measured in terms of what he accomplished against tremendous odds, the Valley campaign was a magnificent achievement.
In the Seven Days’ battle against Richmond (June 26 to July 1, 1862), Jackson was slow and ineffectual. He was handicapped by ignorance of the terrain, but the most reasonable explanation of his substandard performance—and the one generally accepted by historians—is that he was benumbed by exhaustion. In the Second Manassas Campaign he was his old self again, and he won new glory at Harpers Ferry and Antietam. He became a lieutenant general on October 10, 1862, and was given command of the Second Corps. At Chancellorsville on May 2, 1863, he executed a flank march and a surprise attack which proved his remarkable genius and led to the most brilliant victory won by the Army of Northern Virginia. As he returned from a night reconnaissance on May 2, Jackson was mistaken for a foe and shot by his own troops. Following amputation of his left arm, complications set in, and he died on May 10, after muttering the now famous words: “Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.” A Georgia lieutenant wrote his cousin a few days afterward: “There was very little rejoicing…over the late victory; the men would have much rather it had been gained and Jackson still living, but he hope it is for the best.” On May 11, General Lee wrote his wife: “We have to mourn the loss of the good and great Jackson. Any victory would be dear at such a price…I know not how to replace him. But God’s will be done. I trust He will raise someone in his place.” Lee’s earnest hope failed to materialize for the simple reason that the Confederacy had no one who could match Jackson’s greatness. James H. Hammond of South Carolina wrote a relative on August 22, 1863: “Stonewall is the only military development of the war on either side worth a sentence in history.” This was an extreme statement, but it conveyed the idea held by countless others then and since that Jackson deserves a unique place in the military hall of fame.
Senior to Jackson as lieutenant general by one day and commander of Lee’s First Corps from its inception was James Longstreet, familiarly known as “Old Pete” by his associates. The origin of the nickname is uncertain, but in 1890 Longstreet wrote a friend that it came “from adventures of old schoolboys.”
Longstreet was born in Edgefield, South Carolina, on January 8, 1821, and spent his boyhood on a plantation near Gainesville, Georgia. He was a distant relative of Julia Dent, who married his good friend, schoolmate and Civil War adversary, Ulysses S. Grant. After graduation from West Point in 1842 he served in the war with Mexico and was twice brevetted for gallantry. He resigned from a major’s commission on June 1, 1861, and was appointed Confederate brigadier on June 17; he became a major general on October 7. Confusion of orders and movements impaired Longstreet’s effectiveness at Seven Pines on May 31, 1862, but he gave an admirable account of himself during the Seven Days’ battle. His hard-hitting tactics at Second Manassas and Sharpsburg added further luster to his name. On the evening of September 17, 1862, as “Old Pete” stood with torn clothing and smudged face among troops whom he led so magnificently in that day’s fighting, General Lee walked up to him, laid both hands on his shoulders and proudly exclaimed: “Here is my old war horse.” When shortly afterward Lee divided his army into two corps, he gave the first to Longstreet and the second to Jackson.
Longstreet’s conduct at Gettysburg on the second and third days led to heated accusations after the war that his tardy and half-hearted execution of Lee’s orders lost the battle for the South. Longstreet met these charges with vehement denials and thus initiated a controversy that has raged ever since. “Old Pete’s” reputation doubtless has suffered because of his affiliation with the Republican Party in the postwar years and from the fact that the most gifted historians in writing about the Army of Northern Virginia have focused their attention on Robert E. Lee. In recent years, owing largely to Donald B. Sanger’s detailed re-examination of what Longstreet did at Gettysburg, and Kenneth P. Williams’ careful analysis of the situation on the Union side, the “Old War Horse’s” star has regained some of its brilliance. One of the most convincing testimonials in his favor is the fact that Lee continued to seek his companionship and to manifest confidence in his generalship until the end of the war. Lee’s relationship with Pickett, after Lee learned the full story at Five Forks, indicated that he could be cold towards those whose conduct he considered reprehensible.
Longstreet distinguished himself at Chickamauga and in the Wilderness, but his record as an independent commander in east Tennessee in the winter of 1863-1864 left much to be desired. He died on January 2, 1904.
“Old Pete” was undoubtedly stubborn, argumentative, and ambitious, and both during the war and after in his zeal to make a good case for himself he sometimes did less than justice to his fellow generals. He was less than brilliant, and he was too often slow getting under way. But he was a brave and determined fighter and once he got up the steam, he was a formidable antagonist. All things considered, he appears to have justified the confidence and esteem which Lee reposed in him and to have rendered solid service to the Confederate cause.
Although Nathan Bedford Forrest never officially commanded a corps, the force he directed during the final months of the war was comparable in size and function to a corps. Renowned as the most flamboyant of the Confederacy’s lieutenant generals, Forrest stands among history’s greatest leaders of mounted troops.
Born in middle Tennessee, July 13, 1821, the eldest son of William Forrest, a blacksmith, Nathan Forrest, moved to Mississippi with his parents in 1834. When William Forrest died three years later, the fifteen-year-old Nathan took over the support of his widowed mother, five brothers and three sisters. By diligent application and good management as a laborer, livestock dealer, slave trader and planter, he rose from poverty to great wealth. In 1849 he moved to Memphis; nine years later he became an alderman there. When Tennessee seceded, he was nearly forty years old, but he promptly enlisted as a private, along with his brother, Jeffery, and Nathan’s fifteen-year-old son, William. Within a month he was authorized to raise a battalion of calvary; and in October 1861, he became lieutenant colonel of this organization. After narrowly escaping capture at Fort Donelson and receiving a serious wound at Shiloh, he was promoted to brigadier in July 1862. He then began to develop the type of operation that was to become his specialty—moving with lightning speed deep into enemy territory, surprising the enemy, striking furiously, wreaking destruction, and then moving on before the victims could recover their balance.
After fiercely criticizing Bragg following the Battle of Chickamauga, Forrest was reassigned to Mississippi and promoted to major general. On June 10, 1864, at Brice’s Cross Roads, north of Tupelo, he achieved his most notable triumph by decisively defeating a Union force of about 8,100 troops under General Samuel D. Sturgis with only 3,500 Confederates. However, near Okolona on February 22, 1864, Forrest endured a heartbreaking loss. As Confederate forces charged, Colonel Jeffrey Forrest—Nathan’s youngest brother, whom he had raised like a son—was struck in the neck by a bullet and fell from his horse. The General, who was close by, rushed to Jeffrey’s side, lifted him in his arms, and called his name repeatedly. Realizing his brother had died, Forrest gently laid him down, remounted, and led those nearby in a powerful and successful counterattack against the Federal troops.
In February 1865, Forrest was elevated to lieutenant general and placed in command of all cavalry forces in Mississippi, East Louisiana, and western Tennessee. His final engagement occurred at Selma, Alabama, in April.
Forrest inspired his men to valor by personal example. During the course of the war he was wounded four times, had twenty-nine horses shot from under him and killed at least thirty Yankees in hand-to-hand combat. His basic rule in fighting was, in his own words, to get there first with the most (he did not say “fustest with the moistest”). He had little use for leaders who rigidly fought by the book. “Whenever I ran into one of those fellers who fit by note,” he said to have remarked, “I generally whipped hell out of him before he could get his tune pitched.” His spelling and grammar left much to be desired, but he had no trouble making himself understood. When one of his soldiers asked for leave after twice being refused, Forrest wrote on the application: “I have tole you twict, goddamit no.” In one of the few extant letters in his own hand, Forrest wrote his Memphis friend, D. C. Trader, on May 23, 1862: “I had a small brush with the Enamy on yesterday I suceded in gaining thir rear…8 miles from ham burg…they wair not looking for me I taken them by surprise they run like Suns of Biches.” He was frequently profane but never vulgar or obscene and he abstained totally from liquor and tobacco. In 1875, he quietly accepted the Christian faith and joined the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. He headed the Ku Klux Klan for a while after the war but withdrew from the organization when it threatened to degenerate into an instrument of personal vengeance. He died in Memphis on October 29, 1877.
The vast majority of the Confederacy’s seventy-two major generals commanded divisions, and among them, Patrick R. Cleburne stood out as one of the finest. Robert E. Lee described him as “a meteor shining from a clouded sky,” while others referred to him as “the Stonewall Jackson of the West.” Despite his exemplary military record, Cleburne was never promoted to lieutenant general, likely because he fell out of favor with his superiors after advocating the recruitment of slaves earlier than was acceptable.
Cleburne was born in Ireland and briefly attended Trinity College in Dublin. At age seventeen, in 1845, he enlisted in the British army, serving for three years before immigrating to the United States. He settled in Helena, Arkansas, where he became a lawyer and a committed Democrat. When Arkansas seceded, Cleburne joined the ranks as a private and quickly rose to captain in a local unit known as the Yell Rifles. In May 1861, he was elected colonel of the Fifteenth Arkansas Regiment and soon deployed to Bowling Green, Kentucky, under Albert Sidney Johnston’s command. His military experience and exceptional leadership skills earned the respect of his superiors, leading to his promotion to brigadier general on March 4, 1862. At the Battle of Shiloh, Cleburne’s brigade suffered greater losses than any other Confederate brigade, yet his bravery was widely recognized. He led a division in the Kentucky campaign of 1862, sustaining wounds at both Richmond and Perryville. On December 13, 1862, he was promoted to major general. Cleburne’s division played a crucial role in the intense fighting at Murfreesboro, and Bragg’s official report commended him for his “valor, skill and ability…throughout the engagement.”
By repeatedly demonstrating gallantry in combat, consistently interesting himself in the welfare of his men and systematically attending to the details of administration, Cleburne won the respect and affection of his command and made his division one of the very best in Confederate service. Largely because of his superb leadership, Cleburne’s division on the right stood firm against the powerful Federal attack at Missionary Ridge which penetrated the left center of the line and produced the first mass panic in any Confederate army. To Cleburne was assigned the difficult and dangerous task of covering the retreat. On November 27, at Ringold Gap, under instructions from Bragg “to hold his position at all hazards and keep back the enemy until the artillery and transportation of the army is secure, the salvation of which depends on him.” Cleburne and his 4,000 men for six hours repelled a force several times their size and withdrew only after their mission had been accomplished. For this remarkable achievement Cleburne and his division received thanks from the Confederate Congress.
Cleburne led his division with distinction during the Georgia campaign of May—September 1864. After the fall of Atlanta, he accompanied Hood to Tennessee, and there on the afternoon of November 30, 1864, at Franklin, he died at his accustomed place in battle, leading his troops where the fighting was hottest. Later one of his captains wrote: “{There} the gallant old soldier, General Pat Cleburne lay dead. He was the idol of his command, and a better soldier never died for any cause.” In the Rise and Fall of the Confederate Government, Jefferson Davis paid the heroic Irishman this high tribute: “Around Cleburne thickly lay the gallant men, who in his desperate assault followed him with implicit confidence that in another army was given Stonewall Jackson and in the one case, as in the other, a vacancy was created which never could be filled.”
The roll of brigadiers is too long to permit individual characterization of even the most distinguished. Among the very best were George Doles, who died in action near Bethesda Church, June 2, 1864; Samuel McGowan: John R. Cooke; W. H. Jackson; O. F. Strahl; Evander M. Law; Stephen Ramseur of North Carolina, who at twenty-seven became a major general, the youngest West Pointer to attain that grade, and who died at Cedar Creek not long after his promotion; M. P. Lowrey; G. B. Anderson; Junius Daniel; John Gregg; E. P. Alexander; Henery Lewis Benning, called “Old Rock” because of his sturdiness in combat, who at Gettysburg on the second day walked up and down in Devil’s Den saying to his men, “Give them hell, boys, give them hell”; Dorsey Pender, who became a major general after Chancellorsville and who died of a wound received at Gettysburg; Lewis H. Little; A. R. Wright; John H. Kelly; Preston Smith; R. F. Hoke; Lewis Armistead and William Barksdale, both of whom died at Gettysburg; Joseph B. Kershaw, who like many other distinguished brigadiers eventually rose to division command; Paul J. Semmes, mortally wounded at Gettysburg; and three of the leaders who followed Jackson as commanders of the famous Stonewall Brigade—Richard B. Garnett, Charles S. Winder and Elisha Franklin Paxton.
Other outstanding brigade commanders, to mention only a few, were Daniel C. Govan, Archibald Gracie, Cadmus Wilcox, Bryan Grimes, States Rights Gist, and John Pegram. The handsome and gallant Pegram was given command of a division after Rode’s death at Winchester, September 19, 1864, but did not live long enough to receive a major generalcy. At Hatcher’s Run, February 6, 1865, three weeks after his thirty-third birthday and his marriage to the beautiful Hetty Cary, a Federal bullet pierced his breast and killed him. Four days before his death, bride and groom were riding at a review held in her honor when her horse brushed against a soldier. She reined up and started to apologize. But when the Reb looked up into her lovely face he broke in to say: “Never mind, Miss! You might have rid all over me, indeed you might.”
In traditional wars, such as the American Civil War—the last of its kind—generals were expected to demonstrate courage, and it was common for even the highest-ranking officers to personally lead their troops into battle. Confederate generals, at all levels, consistently exemplified extraordinary bravery. Very few ever showed cowardice in combat, and some even went so far as to risk their lives by leading small groups in front-line assaults, when their responsibilities should have kept them behind the lines directing the overall strategy. The extent to which they exposed themselves to danger is evident in the fact that seventy-seven Confederate generals—over one in six who held the rank—were killed by enemy fire. Among those who died in battle were a full general, Albert Sidney Johnston, and three lieutenant generals: Stonewall Jackson, Leonidas Polk, and A.P. Hill. At the Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, on November 30, 1864, a single engagement lasting less than four hours resulted in the immediate deaths of five Confederate generals—Patrick Cleburne, John Adams, H.B. Granbury, O.F. Strahl, and States Rights Gist—with a sixth, John C. Carter, fatally wounded. Additionally, George W. Gordon was captured, and five others—John C. Brown, A.M. Manigault, William A. Quarles, F.M. Cockrell, and T.M. Scott—were wounded. The Wilderness-Spotsylvania Campaign, from May 4 to June 3, 1864, claimed 37 percent of Lee’s generals: out of twenty-two casualties, eight were killed, twelve wounded, and two captured. Those killed included Junius Daniel, George Doles, James B. Gordon, Micah Jenkins, John M. Jones, Abner Perrin, Leroy A. Stafford, and “Jeb” Stuart. Clearly, serving as a Confederate general was a dangerous and unpredictable calling.
Another enjoyable read. Although I have come to Despise war in general, I appreciate, indeed I Revel in the actions of the Confederate Soldier and Confederate Generals, and all who acted in Defense of the South Land. Except for maybe Bragg. I would have loved to have been there when Forrest confronted Bragg. Also, I have increasing Respect for Cleburne the more I read of him. I read Shelby Foote’s trilogy 50 years ago, and Hope I have instilled in my children that Admiration for the Confederacy. I do Appreciate and Enjoy your articles. Don’t stop now.
I quite enjoyed your review of the Southern Generals. Very fair and objective. Some very interesting citations and quotes which gave added color and nuance. Thank you.