Stars and Stripes Forever

MARCHING TO BATTLE

Admiral Alexander Milne had gone to bed a happy man. His bombardment of the shore positions had surely aided in their eventual capture. The Americans had put up stiff resistance but in the end they had been destroyed. Because of the shallow sea, and the fact that the surf had ameliorated, unloading the supplies and the artillery appeared to be going remarkably well. By midnight the boats that were returning with the wounded also brought word of victory.

His responsibility for this phase of the operation was at an end; the continued success of the attack was now in other hands. The Duke of Cambridge was an extremely good soldier; a resourceful and experienced leader. With the landings and the attack a success he could be counted upon to hold the position. With the foothold established the breach in the American defenses would be widened. The blockade was broken and the cotton would flow to England once again. To pay for the weapons of war that the South could then afford to import. For the most part his job here was done. The fatigue of the past days, the stress and lack of sleep, were exacting their toll. His China wound was paining him, a reminder that he was pushing himself too hard. He left orders that he wanted to be on deck at first light, then retired.

It seemed that he had just closed his eyes when his servant quietly called to him. He sat up in bed and sipped his coffee slowly, made no effort to arise until the cup was empty; he was still very weary. Only when the coffee was finished did he shave and dress and go up on deck. Stars filled the black hemisphere of the skies, but there was the barest hint of gray in the east. Captain Roland was on the forward bridge and saluted him formally when he appeared.

“The storm passed during the night, sir. It is going to be a fine day.”

“Any further reports from shore?”

“There was a counterattack which was repelled. General Bullers reports that victory is complete.”

“Field guns and supplies?”

“All on the beach, sir. As soon as it is light they will be moved to the battlements.”

“A most satisfactory engagement, satisfactory indeed.”

It would not be long before Milne would deeply regret speaking those words. As the morning haze burned off he began to be possessed by a feeling of growing horror. The beach where the landing had taken place had open water to the right, and was much larger than it had seemed in the rain and fog the day before. In fact the beachfront curved back towards the harbor to the left, ran on down the coastline. He raised his telescope in the growing light, saw that behind the jut of land ahead there was a lagoon. Captain Roland gasped and spoke aloud what the admiral suddenly realized was the truth.

“That is not Deer Island — or any other island. That’s the shore! Could we have made a mistake?”

There was the rumble of distant gunfire and they swung their telescopes in that direction. A ship was running down toward them; it was the sloop that he had stationed on their eastern flank, now approaching under full sail.

In her wake boiling out clouds of smoke was a pursuing warship.

“Beat to quarters,” the captain ordered. “Raise steam. I must have full power.”

Warrior had her guns run out and all sail set as well. She was just getting under way when the sloop rounded her stern and lowered sail now that she was under the protection of the ironclad. Her pursuer also slowed and went about, understandably not wanting to face the impregnable Warrior and her guns. As the ship’s stern faced them a gust of wind caught her flag and spread it out. So close were they that no telescope was needed to identify her.

Stars and stripes. The American flag.

“Message to Java and Southampton,” the admiral said. “Enemy in sight. Pursue and capture. Or destroy.”

The captain of the British sloop had lowered a boat as soon as was possible, had come to report in person. He saluted as he came on deck.

“Report,” the admiral said coldly. Fearing the answer.

“At dawn, sir, we saw an island and that ship anchored close offshore. Ran down close enough to see that there were fortified gun positions there. They fired on us as soon as they identified our flag. Then the warship upped her anchor and came after us. I checked the charts and, sir, I think that…”

His voice ran down and he coughed as though choking on his words.

“Out with it,” the admiral snapped. The officer was pale under his tan. With great difficulty he spoke.

“I believe that… that the island was… Deer Island. When I discovered this I looked again at our charts. If you will look, sir, there on the shore, where we attacked. You can see that there is a small port, and right behind the port there are those buildings, next to where the landings were made. I have looked at all my charts and I feel… I think… that that is the city of Biloxi. Biloxi, Mississippi, which as you know is one of the Confederate states.”

The sure knowledge struck the admiral like a physical blow: he reeled back and clutched the iron rail.

They had attacked the wrong fortress, invaded and destroyed property and lives in the wrong country. The mistake was his, none other. He must stop the attack: but it was far too late for that. He must try to make amends, do something. But there was nothing that he could do. The die was cast, fortune in jeopardy. The future was more than bleak for his career was in ruins, that was obvious, his life as he had known it was ended.

“I do not feel well,” he said turning and shuffling from the bridge. “I am going below.”

“But, Admiral — what shall we do? What are your orders?”

He did not answer them. But a few minutes later the sound of a muffled pistol shot was answer enough.

When the Duke of Cambridge climbed the boarding ladder to the deck of Warrior he was hurried at once to Captain Roland’s quarters. Roland closed the door and turned to him, ashen-faced.

“Disaster…” he said in a hoarse voice.

“All too bloody right it is. You know we attacked the wrong bloody spot? You obviously do. Milne will pay for this, pay hard.”

“He already has. The admiral is dead by his own hand.”

“Well I’ll not take the blame for this fiasco!” The duke slammed the table so hard that the bottles there leaped and clashed. “The army is advancing as ordered. I must see to it that they have reinforcements. The attack from Canada must be informed. I will wring victory from this rotten mess that you have created. What is that warship close alongside?”

“The Java”

“I’m taking her. You are senior captain here. Stay in command until the reinforcements arrive. And get it right or I’ll have you reduced, dismissed. See if the navy can’t get one thing right in this disaster.”

Children ran alongside the marching troops, cheering and waving. The adults came out too, but not quite as sure of themselves as the children were. Riders had been sent ahead of the column to let everyone know what was happening. The blue uniforms and Union flags raised some eyebrows, but when they understood what was happening there was mutual enthusiasm.

“Give ’em hell boys!” an oldster called out from the porch of a roadside house.

“Yanks and Johnny Reb — well I never,” a man on horseback said, then waved his hat. “Get them Britishers. I heard what they done and Hell is too good a place for them.”

The two generals riding to the fore waved back.

“A fine reception,” Sherman said. “I’ll admit I had a bit of worry.”

“I didn’t,” Beauregard said. “When they know why you are with us and where we are going — why you have only friends here. We won’t be marching much longer, either. We’re going to the railhead of the Mobile and Ohio Railway at Corinth.” The two generals rode together at the head of their troops. “I’ve telegraphed ahead for all the engines and rolling stock that can be got together. Flatcars too for the artillery and boxcars for the horses.”

“Any reports on the enemy?”

“Last reported on the outskirts of Handsboro. Now you have to understand the geography of the Gulf Coast of this state. Biloxi is on the end of a long peninsula of land, ocean in front and the lagoon behind. Handsboro is at the land end of the peninsula. If the British plan to move north from there, why that is the best kind of news that we could have. Inland from the coast there is mostly pine slashes and sugarcane country. Before the telegraph operator in Biloxi was killed he got off a message. There were no troops of any strength nearby, but there was some cavalry at Lorraine. They’re spreading out in front of what could be the enemy advance. People are being warned to clear out of the way. There are none of our troops anywhere close in front of them which is fine. I want them to continue their advance.”

Sherman thought about this and a slow smile broke out on his face. “Of course. The last thing we want to do is face them head on and fight them on their terms. You want them to advance so we can get in behind them. Cut them off from Biloxi and their lines of supply. Maroon them in the center of a hostile countryside, then wipe them out.”

“Exactly. Our strength will be in surprise. What we are going to do is bypass them by rail. There is a junction at Hattiesburg where two rail lines cross. We are going to change there to the cars of the Gulf and Ship Island Railway. Then straight south to Gulfport. In this way we will get behind them and cut them off. Hopefully separate them from their ships and their supplies. Run a noose around them — then kill them. That is what we are going to do.”

Sherman nodded. “An excellent plan, excellent indeed.”

They heard the shrill moan of the steam whistle from the train yard when they entered the outskirts of Corinth. The men were in great spirits and cheered as they marched. Smoke boiled from the diamond stack of the engine as she got up steam. Another locomotive waited on the siding ready to make up a second train as soon as the first one left.

“I don’t want to divide our command,” Beauregard said.

“A wise precaution,” Sherman agreed. “I feel it would not be wise to march my bluecoats through Mississippi without you at my side. I suggest that we board one of your regiments and my 53rd Ohio on the first train. The rest of the men, guns and supplies to follow. We will all form up again at Gulfport.”

The telegraph keys clicked steadily up and down the length of Mississippi. All normal railroad traffic was suspended and sidetracked to let the military trains go by. Through the heat of the day and into the evening the trains rolled south. There was some confusion at Hattiesburg when the change from one railroad line to another was made. But the soldiers worked together with good will; the loading finished after dark and the final leg of the journey began. The great kerosene headlight of the engine cut a swath through the darkness of the pine slashes. The soldiers, more subdued now after the tiring day, dozed on the seats and in the aisles.

Gulfport. End of the line and end of train travel. A Confederate cavalryman was waiting as the two generals climbed down from the car; he saluted them both.

“Captain Culpepper, he sent me here to wait for y’all. Said to tell you that those English soldiers have stopped for the night, no more than a couple of miles outside of Handsboro.”

“How far are we from Handsboro?” Beauregard asked.

“Easy ride, General. Nor more’n ten, twelve miles.”

“We have them,” Sherman said.

“We do indeed. We march now. Get between them and Biloxi during the night. Then we shall see what the morning brings.”

The USS Rhode Island did not try to outrun the British warships, probably could not. Instead she tied up at the wharf of Deer Island, guns rolled out and waiting, under the protection of the 30-pounders of the battery. The British ships nosed close, but beat a speedy retreat when the batteries fired a salvo that sent spouts of water close around them. When the British ships had rejoined the fleet, and showed no evidence of returning, Rhode Island slipped her lines and steamed east.

Before she had been forcefully impressed into the navy and sent to join the blockading fleet, the Rhode Island had been a coastal ferry. Her engines were old but reliable. With a good head of steam — and the safety valve tied down — she could do a steady seven knots. She was doing this now, her big side-wheels churning steadily, driving her east along the coast at her best possible speed.

“You saw them clear as I did, Larry, didn’t you?” Captain Bailey asked — and not for the first time.

“Sure did, Captain, no missing a fleet that size,” the first mate said.

“And the way that sloop sailed up toward us, bold as brass,” the captain said. “That old Union Jack flapping away top of her mast. We’re at war and there she was running right up to the guns of the battery. Commander should have held his fire a mite longer.”

“I think he hit her a couple of times.”

“May be. At least she skedaddled and led us right up to the others.”

“Never saw an ironside like that English one before.” The captain looked out at the coast of Mississippi slowly moving by. “What do you think? About another four hours to Mobile Bay?”

“About.”

“I’ll bet the admiral will be mighty interested in what we got to report.”

“Every ship in the blockade there will be more than interested. Isn’t the Monitor supposed to be joining them about now?”

“Should be. I read the orders. Supposed to join the others in the blockade just as soon as the new Monitor-class iron ship, the Avenger, got to Hampton Roads to take her place.”

“I’ll bet the boys on the Monitor will be more keen than anyone else. They must have been mighty tired of just being the cork in the bottle, looking out for the Merrimack to appear again. I hear she has a new commander?”

“Lieutenant William Jeffers, a good man. Poor Worden, wounded in the eyes. Shell hit the lookout slit, blew scrap into his eyes. Blind in one and the other not too good. Jeffers will be interested in our report.”

“Everyone will be mighty interested as soon as word of all this gets to Washington.”