“Eighteen sixty-four opened a season of desperation for the Confederacy and of hope for the Union cause. During the previous year, Federal armies had gained control of the Mississippi River and had consolidated their grip on Tennessee. Not only was the Confederacy now severed from its main artery but it had lost a substantial portion of its heartland as well. Only two significant Confederate military forces remained. In northern Georgia, General Joseph E. Johnston’s rebel army was locked in a standoff against Major General William T. Sherman’s tough Union veterans. And in the war’s eastern theater, [Robert E.] Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia was opposed by the largest concentration of Federal military might yet assembled…”
- Gordon C. Rhea, The Battle of the Wilderness: May 5-6, 1864
General Ulysees S. Grant’s Overland Campaign in the summer of 1864 represents the bloodiest sequence in the American Civil War. Considering the staggering costs of that war, that is saying something profoundly grim. In a series of battles waged in Virginia, Grant – freshly arrived from the western theater – confronted the legendary Confederate General Robert E. Lee. By the time it ended, thousands were dead, tens of thousands were wounded, Lee was racing to save Petersburg, and the stage had been set for the final act.
Gordon C. Rhea’s The Battle of the Wilderness is a detailed, well-written look at the first encounter of the Overland Campaign. It successfully brings some nuance to a military operation that is often reduced to blundering hammer strikes wielded by “Grant the Butcher,” and offers a semblance of coherence to one of the war’s more chaotic fights.
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The Battle of the Wilderness is actually the first in Rhea’s multivolume study of the Overland Campaign. Given that the book is 450-pages long, and that several more follow, you have a pretty good idea of the level of detail toward which Rhea is striving.
At this point, you might be wondering to yourself: is this necessary in my life? If you have to ask the question, the answer is no. This is a project meant for that breed known as American Civil War Enthusiasts™. It breaks a sprawling battle down to its most minute particles, sometimes all the way to the company level.
To that end, Rhea does not take a long time getting warmed up. The overall context in which Grant’s campaign began – the years of Union failure in the east under a litany of subpar generals; the unfinished victory at Gettysburg; and Grant’s rise to command of all the Union Armies – is only briefly sketched. Though I love a solid framework as well as the next fella, this makes sense, since if you have decided to pick this up, you probably already have a very good idea of what came before.
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If you happen to be unfamiliar with the engagement, the Wilderness was the name given to a dense, second-growth forest in eastern Virginia. A year before Grant and Lee collided, it had been the site of the Battle of Chancellorsville, perhaps Lee’s most stunning victory. The confusion of trees and shrubs, laced with precious few roads, nullified any Union advantage in manpower. Thus, when Grant crossed the Rapidan, intending to draw Lee into open battle, he meant for the Army of the Potomac – under the direct command of George Meade – to make its way quickly through the Wilderness.
Of course, as so often happened to the snakebit Army of the Potomac – truly a mass of lions led by pugs – leadership failed the men under their command. Instead of pushing through the Wilderness quickly, the army dawdled, thereby giving Lee time to launch his much smaller forces against unsuspecting Federal soldiers.
This resulted in a vicious back-and-forth struggle that occupied the better part of two days, with each side – at one point or another – coming within a hair’s breadth of smashing victory or ignominious collapse.
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I wrestle with how much credit – and conversely, how much blame – the top commanders of the Civil War receive. Nineteenth century battles were extremely confusing. No real-time information; no satellites; no radios to deliver orders. Thick smoke covering everything. The officers a collection of political hacks, eager amateurs, madmen, and drunks, with a few professionals thrown into the mix. However solid the plan, once the thing started in motion, the man who devised it had little control.
In the Wilderness, all the typical problems of acquiring adequate intelligence, conveying precise orders, and coordinating far flung units were magnified many times over. Much hinged on frontline initiative and old-fashioned luck.
Moving carefully from one point of the field to another, Rhea vividly describes the difficult terrain, the slowness of movement, and the tremendous challenges in simply getting a body of men down a narrow road. His efforts are helped by numerous maps that breakdown the tactical posture at various moments in time. One of Rhea’s signal achievements is in acknowledging chaos and exploring it in depth.
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One of the many fascinating aspects of the American Civil War is the mass literacy of its soldiers. There are thousands of letters, memoirs, and manuscripts upon which to draw. For an author taking on any of the war’s infinite topics, the problem is seldom too little information, but too much.
Rhea ably incorporates first-person accounts into his own vivid descriptions in ways that are sometimes novelistic. If he is not quite the artist as Shelby Foote, he is still pretty dang good. There are a number of memorable sequences in the book, such as a Union aide between struck senseless by a severed head.
While generally presenting a story, Rhea occasionally stops to weigh the evidence, and discuss competing claims. During the postwar era, carping about the distribution of credit and blame became a cottage industry. Generals such as Gouverneur K. Warren, John Gordon, and Richard Ewell all went to their graves arguing about their performances during the Wilderness.
Rhea is helped in this regard by a decision to use footnotes rather than endnotes. The common argument against footnotes is that they clutter the page and cause a distraction. This is absolutely true. But they also allow you to immediately see the origin of a piece of evidence. Annotations further amplify the notes. Depending on how much of your life’s happiness is balanced upon knowing every scrap of information regarding the Wilderness, you can always just skip them.
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The leaders of the American Civil War represent an eccentric cast of characters. Rhea smartly leans into this. He provides mini-bios on all the expected figures, such as Grant, Lee, James Longstreet, and Winfield Scott Hancock, but also brings life to the lesser-knowns, the officers at the brigade and regimental level who did the dirty work. Though it is harder to create complete arcs for the common soldiers – as opposed to momentary impressions – Rhea provides a good sampling of their experiences.
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Because this is solely a battle history, none of the enduring controversies of the American Civil War appear on these pages. This allows Rhea to maintain a strict level of objectivity, where everything is judged on military – rather than moral or political – terms.
Despite being a southerner by birth – and now, oddly enough, the attorney general of the Virgin Islands – Rhea does yeoman’s work pushing back the tide of Lost Cause mythologizing, wherein the gallant and unflawed Lee lost only because Grant drowned him in a sea of senselessly shed blood.
As Rhea notes, Lee had a distinctly aggressive military philosophy, which served him well when dealing with loose-bowelled men like George McClellan. However, his willingness to launch headlong attacks – not only at the Wilderness, but at Malvern Hill and the third day of Gettysburg – caused irreplaceable losses. Meanwhile, Grant was not the drunk blunderer of pro-southern propaganda. Instead, he embodied the strategic sense that Lee lacked, as well as a disposition for maneuver, which he showed in his approach to Vicksburg. Grant’s army lost more men in total; Lee lost more on a proportional basis.
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Following the slaughter of Union soldiers at Fredericksburg in 1862, President Abraham Lincoln mused about the “awful arithmetic” of war. In short, he observed that if Fredericksburg was refought on a weekly basis, even with madly skewed casualty figures – the Federals suffering almost 13,000; Lee just over 5,000 – the Union would prevail, while the Confederacy disintegrated. At the time, Lincoln thought he’d win the war when he found a general who understood the math.
Grant understood it. Eventually, even Lincoln would quail at the list of killed, wounded, and missing. Not Grant. With his battered army poised to retreat across the Rapidan, he instead made a cleverly concealed movement towards Spotsylvania Courthouse, in an attempt to turn Lee’s flank. If that interest you, Rhea has you covered.