Restoring the Names of (Mostly) Bad Generals

Trump announced that he will restore the names of ex-Confederates to U.S. Army bases. In a speech to the 82nd Airborne Division at Fort, er, Bragg he tried to make it clear that it was not an homage to the Confederacy, per se, but to the heritage of the US military: “We won a lot of battles out of those forts. It’s no time to change. And I’m superstitious. I like to keep it going, right? I’m very superstitious. We want to keep it going,” 

I always considered the name changes to be performative, PC bullshit. I ain’t superstitious, but I do honor the legacy of the hundreds of thousands of GIs who passed through those bases and associate the base names with their histories as bases rather than the individuals for whom they were named.

The main objection I have to the base names is that most of the generals they are named for were, with a few exceptions, pretty lame.

Braxton Bragg. “The most hated man in the Confederacy.” A past master at winning smashing initial successes (Perryville, Murfreesboro/Stones River, Chickamauga) then retreating (in the first two cases) or getting smashed later (the last, at Chattanooga), all the while engaged in hammer-and-tong battles with virtually all of his subordinates.

Leonidas Polk. His first name was purely aspirational, not to say false advertising. He was one of the subordinates whom Bragg battled with. He opened the war with a colossal blunder, occupying Columbus, Kentucky while that state was neutral. This opened the way for the US to move into the state and ensure its loyalty. He didn’t improve with experience. His record as a corps commander was littered with failures, and his politicking was highly destructive to the Confederate cause in the West. Elevated far beyond his capability and experience (he had resigned soon after graduating from West Point to become an Episcopalian minister, eventually rising to bishop) because of his friendship with Jefferson Davis. Killed by a shot fired by Hubert “Leatherbreeches” Dilger at Pine Mountain, Georgia. There is a small monument marking the site where he was killed. That should have been enough.

George Pickett. Largely a non-entity as a division commander. His fame stems from a disastrous attack (which was not his decision to make, though he was enthusiastic about it–before it collapsed in flame and blood) in which he was not in overall tactical command and his troops comprised less than half of the attacking force. He performed credibly during the Bermuda Hundred/Petersburg campaigns, but was in command when the Confederates suffered the crushing defeat at Five Forks. Although Sheridan probably would have overwhelmed him even if he had been present, the fact he was lunching (on shad) miles to the rear when the attack was launched was not a good look: seeing him a few days later, Lee disdainfully said “Is that man still with the army?” Ironically, he had had his best performance of the war on the previous day, at Dinwiddie Court House. After the war, he descended into bitter alcoholism.

John Bell Hood. An excellent division commander, a cipher as a corps commander, and a disaster as an army commander. The Peter Principle on steroids. Franklin and Nashville were catastrophes.

Ambrose Powell Hill. Very high variance, and another Peter Principle poster boy. Often excellent as a division commander, he bailed out Stonewall Jackson at Cedar Mountain and saved Lee at Antietam. But he rashly attacked at Mechanicsville/Beaver Dam Creek and was driven back at Second Manassas and Fredericksburg. His record as a corps commander was poor, most notably at Bristoe Station when his rash attack resulted in a bloody repulse, drawing from Lee the rebuke “Let us bury these poor men and say nothing more of it.” His corps performed well at Petersburg, but for the most part he was not exercising tactical command: his division commanders (notably William Mahone) were the stalwarts. Hill’s erratic performance was largely due to his poor health–specifically, the periodic outbreak of syphilitic symptoms. Being fatally shot during the final Union assault at Petersburg was probably a blessing.

 John Brown Gordon. Among the best of the lot after Lee–at least during the war. Rising from regimental to brigade to division to corps command, he excelled at every level. Towards the end of the war, he was Lee’s most reliable subordinate. He is the most dubious politically because of his post-war Senate career, during which he was a notorious Lost Causer. His memoir is largely fiction.

Edmund Winchester Rucker. Wait? Who? He was a minor figure whom even many of those with a pretty good knowledge of the Civil War may not recognize. He was nominated for a brigadier generalship, but the Confederate Congress never approved it. His most important service was as a brigade commander under Nathan Bedford Forrest, notably at Brice’s Cross Roads.

Robert E. Lee. No comment necessary here.

The algorithm for choosing these base names was clearly “pick a notable general from the state in which the base is located (even if they sucked).” Rucker wasn’t even an Alabamian (being a Tennessee native) but he became a prominent business figure in the state well after the war: there were no prominent generals from Alabama (though Gordon had started out in the “Raccoon Roughs” of the 6th Alabama) so Rucker won out because of longevity and wealth. Hood wasn’t a Texan (born in Kentucky) but he rose to fame as commander of the Texas Brigade in the Army of Northern Virginia.

Southern politics clearly played a role. There was no Fort Longstreet–even though he was far more prominent and successful than any of those above except for Lee–because he was considered a traitor for becoming a Republican, criticizing Lee, and saying that the South should reconcile itself to the loss of the war. P.T.G. Beauregard was more prominent and successful than Polk, but he was an enemy of Jefferson Davis, so no fort for you! No Fort [Joseph E.] Johnston for the same reason.

A coda on Fort Polk. It should retain its name if only because of its appearance in the famous speech by Patton: “Thirty years from now when you’re sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, ‘What did you do in the great World War Two?’ You won’t have to cough and say, ‘Well, your granddaddy shoveled shit in Fort Polk.'” (In the movie version of the speech, Patton says “shoveled shit in Louisiana,” but some soldiers who heard the speech specifically recalled him saying “Fort Polk”).