November 16, 1864—Union General George H. Thomas (pictured left) had not lost a battle in the Civil War—and despite the anxieties of commander-in-chief Ulysses S. Grant, who wasn’t about to do so this day, either.
With an aristocratic Southern background that led many northerners to distrust his loyalty to the Union, and a sense of preparation so methodical he would not change even to accord with his superiors in the East, the general had taken his time to spring a trap on his former West Point student, Confederate General John Bell Hood. When the two-day Battle of Nashville was over, Hood’s brave but exhausted, underfed and underclothed army was on the run in pitch-black darkness and pouring rain.
Grant need not have worried: “Old Slow Trot” (a reference to Thomas’ gentle treatment of his horses—perhaps necessitated by a painful back injury) had, for all intents and purposes, defeated the Army of Tennessee so thoroughly that it ceased to exist as a fighting force.
With an aristocratic Southern background that led many northerners to distrust his loyalty to the Union, and a sense of preparation so methodical he would not change even to accord with his superiors in the East, the general had taken his time to spring a trap on his former West Point student, Confederate General John Bell Hood. When the two-day Battle of Nashville was over, Hood’s brave but exhausted, underfed and underclothed army was on the run in pitch-black darkness and pouring rain.
Grant need not have worried: “Old Slow Trot” (a reference to Thomas’ gentle treatment of his horses—perhaps necessitated by a painful back injury) had, for all intents and purposes, defeated the Army of Tennessee so thoroughly that it ceased to exist as a fighting force.
As I mentioned in a prior post on the Battle of Chickamauga, Thomas has never received his due as a commander. Part of this related to his unflappable personality; part of it to the fact that his commanders regarded his destruction of the Confederate Army in Tennessee as a sideshow to William Tecumseh Sherman’s “March to the Sea” and Grant’s siege of Petersburg, both occurring at the same time.
But part of it, it must be said, related to Grant’s at times grudging account of his success. Grant’s Personal Memoirs still sounds annoyed, two decades after the campaign, on the events leading up to the battle:
“Hood was allowed to move upon Nashville, and to invest that place almost without interference. Thomas was strongly fortified in his position, so that he would have been safe against the attack of Hood. He had troops enough even to annihilate him in the open field. To me his delay was unaccountable—sitting there and permitting himself to be invested, so that, in the end, to raise the siege he would have to fight the enemy strongly posted behind fortifications.”
The next couple of sentences in the memoir—about the falling, freezing rain that made it difficult for armies to move—sounds like a perfunctory nod to reality. But Thomas, on the spot, rather than away in Virginia like Grant, was in a far better position to know the true state of affairs on the ground—particularly as it related to the battered forces of the enemy and the particular psychology of Hood.
Thomas had been an artillery and cavalry instructor of Hood’s at West Point. He probably knew enough about him from there, as well as his recent reckless Atlanta campaign against Sherman, to understand the nature of this brave, but now dangerously impetuous, opponent.
In the summer of 1864, Jefferson Davis replaced Joseph E. Johnston with Hood in an attempt to take the battle to Sherman for Atlanta. Sherman—who had been repulsed continually by Johnston, even as he kept grinding toward the Southern communications and commercial center—was delighted by this move, as Hood hurled himself against the Union commander, incurring stiff losses he could ill afford while losing the city in the bargain.
Wounded badly in love, and even more horribly in battle (his left arm was severely damaged at Gettysburg, and his right leg was amputated at the Battle of Chickamauga), Hood made a great impression with what Southern diarist Mary Chesnut called his “sad Quixote face, the face of an old Crusader.”
Over time, however, others weighed in with less romanticized viewpoints on him. In his vivid narrative history of the Tennessee campaign, Embrace an Angry Wind, Wiley Sword is unsparing about this fine brigadier elevated beyond his capacity: “a disabled personality prone to miscalculation and misperception…a fool with a license to kill his own men.”
After the Union capture of Atlanta, Hood decided to fall upon Sherman's supply lines extending all the way back into Tennessee. Sherman had a bigger game in mind that simply putting an entire army out of existence—he wanted to break the Southern will to resist—so he took most of the choice troops in his army for the “March to the Sea” and left Thomas to deal with Hood.
Hood’s campaign met with grave misfortune even before Thomas delivered the coup de grace. A miscommunicated order led to an unnecessary loss at Spring Hill. The Battle of Franklin was less forgivable: an assault ordered in a fit of pique, leading to what has been called “the Gettysburg of the West” because of the fearful casualty rate against an entrenched foe.
Still, Hood kept moving toward Thomas—a movement that deeply concerned Grant. So deep was the Union commander's anxiety that over six days, he issued three separate orders relieving Thomas from command. He was talked out of it the first two times by President Lincoln and his chief of state, General Henry Halleck, after receiving assurances from Thomas that, once he’d built up his forces sufficiently, he’d strike Hood.
The third time, despite believing that a commander on the spot was the best judge of his situation, the President reluctantly acceded to Grant’s urging to remove Thomas.
Grant went to his hotel in Washington to pack for his trip to Nashville, where he would take charge of the situation in person and replace Thomas with General John Schofield.
Instead, an entire campaign changed on the whim of an telegraph operator. This operator decided not to wire Grant’s order until he’d heard the latest news from Nashville.
It turned out to be fortuitous. Thomas proved as good as his word—and then some. Earlier in the day, when the ice storm had abated, he attacked Hood at last with a crunching, unexpected blow.
And now, we come to what may be the most fascinating aspect of Thomas’ attention to detail. It is, of course, inconceivable that the Confederate miscommunication at Spring Hill would have occurred on his watch. But he was at this point also prepared to use African-American troops to undermine their former oppressors.
Bob Redman has a fascinating piece on how Thomas deployed the African-American troops in small sorties with white troops, where they could gain useful experience, rather than parade ground drills. The Virginian watched carefully how they handled these duties, then gave two African-American brigades a key assignment: they would hold most of a Confederate corps on the right, while Thomas, with 40,000 men, fell upon it from the left.
The plan worked, to the great delight of Grant—who still couldn’t resist the inclination to tell Thomas to keep pursuing Hood. “The Rock of Chickamauga,” who’d been praised even by Grant for his incredible stand in that bloody 1863 battle, had now been transformed into the “Sledge of Nashville.”
Hood ordered new works to be erected to await Thomas’ next assault. Thomas repeated his stratagem of the 15th—use the African-American troops as a diversion while the main force fell on the left. This time, two Confederate corps were put out of commission.
Even though icy weather stymied Thomas in his attempt to cut off Hood, it didn’t matter. Having suffered 23,000 casualties out of the 38,000 troops before the Nashville campaign, the Hood was in no position to do anything. Thomas had achieved something that Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, and other Northern generals had not achieved: the destruction of an entire army.
As Grant, dying of cancer, came to the end of his memoir, he may have felt a more charitable tone was in order toward Thomas. His final judgment doesn’t take back what he said about the former subordinate he second-guessed from hundreds of miles away, but he does temper it with praise for his qualities as human being and defensive tower of strength.
“Sensible, honest and brave,” Thomas, according to Grant, “gained the confidence of all who served under him, and almost their love. This implies a very valuable quality. It is a quality which calls out the most efficient services of the troops serving under the commander possessing it.”
Grant still couldn’t admit that Thomas’ preparation for Nashville had sealed victory so completely: “I do not believe that he could ever have conducted Sherman’s army from Chattanooga to Atlanta against the defenses and the commander guarding that line.”
Undoubtedly cognizant of how this sounded, Grant immediately followed this with a more more generous view: “On the other hand, if it had been given him to hold the line which Johnston tried to hold, neither that general nor Sherman, nor any other officer could have done it better.”
But part of it, it must be said, related to Grant’s at times grudging account of his success. Grant’s Personal Memoirs still sounds annoyed, two decades after the campaign, on the events leading up to the battle:
“Hood was allowed to move upon Nashville, and to invest that place almost without interference. Thomas was strongly fortified in his position, so that he would have been safe against the attack of Hood. He had troops enough even to annihilate him in the open field. To me his delay was unaccountable—sitting there and permitting himself to be invested, so that, in the end, to raise the siege he would have to fight the enemy strongly posted behind fortifications.”
The next couple of sentences in the memoir—about the falling, freezing rain that made it difficult for armies to move—sounds like a perfunctory nod to reality. But Thomas, on the spot, rather than away in Virginia like Grant, was in a far better position to know the true state of affairs on the ground—particularly as it related to the battered forces of the enemy and the particular psychology of Hood.
Thomas had been an artillery and cavalry instructor of Hood’s at West Point. He probably knew enough about him from there, as well as his recent reckless Atlanta campaign against Sherman, to understand the nature of this brave, but now dangerously impetuous, opponent.
In the summer of 1864, Jefferson Davis replaced Joseph E. Johnston with Hood in an attempt to take the battle to Sherman for Atlanta. Sherman—who had been repulsed continually by Johnston, even as he kept grinding toward the Southern communications and commercial center—was delighted by this move, as Hood hurled himself against the Union commander, incurring stiff losses he could ill afford while losing the city in the bargain.
Wounded badly in love, and even more horribly in battle (his left arm was severely damaged at Gettysburg, and his right leg was amputated at the Battle of Chickamauga), Hood made a great impression with what Southern diarist Mary Chesnut called his “sad Quixote face, the face of an old Crusader.”
Over time, however, others weighed in with less romanticized viewpoints on him. In his vivid narrative history of the Tennessee campaign, Embrace an Angry Wind, Wiley Sword is unsparing about this fine brigadier elevated beyond his capacity: “a disabled personality prone to miscalculation and misperception…a fool with a license to kill his own men.”
After the Union capture of Atlanta, Hood decided to fall upon Sherman's supply lines extending all the way back into Tennessee. Sherman had a bigger game in mind that simply putting an entire army out of existence—he wanted to break the Southern will to resist—so he took most of the choice troops in his army for the “March to the Sea” and left Thomas to deal with Hood.
Hood’s campaign met with grave misfortune even before Thomas delivered the coup de grace. A miscommunicated order led to an unnecessary loss at Spring Hill. The Battle of Franklin was less forgivable: an assault ordered in a fit of pique, leading to what has been called “the Gettysburg of the West” because of the fearful casualty rate against an entrenched foe.
Still, Hood kept moving toward Thomas—a movement that deeply concerned Grant. So deep was the Union commander's anxiety that over six days, he issued three separate orders relieving Thomas from command. He was talked out of it the first two times by President Lincoln and his chief of state, General Henry Halleck, after receiving assurances from Thomas that, once he’d built up his forces sufficiently, he’d strike Hood.
The third time, despite believing that a commander on the spot was the best judge of his situation, the President reluctantly acceded to Grant’s urging to remove Thomas.
Grant went to his hotel in Washington to pack for his trip to Nashville, where he would take charge of the situation in person and replace Thomas with General John Schofield.
Instead, an entire campaign changed on the whim of an telegraph operator. This operator decided not to wire Grant’s order until he’d heard the latest news from Nashville.
It turned out to be fortuitous. Thomas proved as good as his word—and then some. Earlier in the day, when the ice storm had abated, he attacked Hood at last with a crunching, unexpected blow.
And now, we come to what may be the most fascinating aspect of Thomas’ attention to detail. It is, of course, inconceivable that the Confederate miscommunication at Spring Hill would have occurred on his watch. But he was at this point also prepared to use African-American troops to undermine their former oppressors.
Bob Redman has a fascinating piece on how Thomas deployed the African-American troops in small sorties with white troops, where they could gain useful experience, rather than parade ground drills. The Virginian watched carefully how they handled these duties, then gave two African-American brigades a key assignment: they would hold most of a Confederate corps on the right, while Thomas, with 40,000 men, fell upon it from the left.
The plan worked, to the great delight of Grant—who still couldn’t resist the inclination to tell Thomas to keep pursuing Hood. “The Rock of Chickamauga,” who’d been praised even by Grant for his incredible stand in that bloody 1863 battle, had now been transformed into the “Sledge of Nashville.”
Hood ordered new works to be erected to await Thomas’ next assault. Thomas repeated his stratagem of the 15th—use the African-American troops as a diversion while the main force fell on the left. This time, two Confederate corps were put out of commission.
Even though icy weather stymied Thomas in his attempt to cut off Hood, it didn’t matter. Having suffered 23,000 casualties out of the 38,000 troops before the Nashville campaign, the Hood was in no position to do anything. Thomas had achieved something that Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, and other Northern generals had not achieved: the destruction of an entire army.
As Grant, dying of cancer, came to the end of his memoir, he may have felt a more charitable tone was in order toward Thomas. His final judgment doesn’t take back what he said about the former subordinate he second-guessed from hundreds of miles away, but he does temper it with praise for his qualities as human being and defensive tower of strength.
“Sensible, honest and brave,” Thomas, according to Grant, “gained the confidence of all who served under him, and almost their love. This implies a very valuable quality. It is a quality which calls out the most efficient services of the troops serving under the commander possessing it.”
Grant still couldn’t admit that Thomas’ preparation for Nashville had sealed victory so completely: “I do not believe that he could ever have conducted Sherman’s army from Chattanooga to Atlanta against the defenses and the commander guarding that line.”
Undoubtedly cognizant of how this sounded, Grant immediately followed this with a more more generous view: “On the other hand, if it had been given him to hold the line which Johnston tried to hold, neither that general nor Sherman, nor any other officer could have done it better.”
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