President Lincoln seemed to be of two mindsets when he considered his stay at City Point. He sent a telegram to Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton explaining his dilemma. “I have begun to feel that I ought to be at home,” he cabled, “and yet I dislike to leave without seeing nearer to the end of General Grant's present movement.”1
The president went on to say that Grant had “been out” from City Point since yesterday morning, but that “no considerable effect has yet been produced.” His nerves were beginning to get the better of him—he was well aware that General Grant was planning a general advance against General Lee, and wished that he would begin his attack and get it over with. Waiting for news was making him tense and jittery.
There were at least some individuals back in Washington who were not sorry that the president was away. Gideon Welles spoke with Secretary of State Seward, who was under the impression that Lincoln should have returned by that time. But Secretary of War Stanton remarked “that it was quite as pleasant to have the President away, and that he (Stanton) was much less annoyed” when Lincoln was not present.2 Not everyone missed Lincoln, at least not all of his cabinet members.
Actually, General Grant had telegraphed the president, but his communiqué had nothing to do with his pending general attack. He let Lincoln know that all of his troops were in position for the coming attack against General Lee—“our troops have all been pushed forward” is the way that Grant phrased it—but this was sent just to keep the commander in chief informed.3 Because of the torrential rain that came down all day long on Thursday, the troops were not able to go anywhere. Grant was not able to send any more definite information about his planned offensive.
As soon as the rain let up, General Grant knew exactly what he wanted to do. He had telegraphed General Philip Sheridan on the day before, and told him, “I feel now like ending the matter, if it is possible to do so, before going back.”4 He also instructed General Sheridan not to “cut loose and go after the enemy's roads.” Instead, he wanted Sheridan to “push around the enemy, if you can, and get on his right rear…. We will all act together as one army until it is seen what can be done with the enemy.”
Grant did not intend to capture the roads, the rail links, or any of the transportation links that had been keeping the Army of Northern Virginia fed and equipped. Instead, he was going to go after the army itself. He wanted to end the war as soon as it was possible, to end the matter, and the best way of accomplishing this would be to go right at the enemy.
The only problem was that it looked like it was never going to stop raining. As the downpour went on, the roads got worse. “Sometimes a horse or a mule would be standing apparently on firm ground,” General Grant wrote, “when all at once one foot would sink, and as he commenced scrambling to catch himself all his feet would sink and he would have to be drawn by hand out of the quicksands.”5 If the roads could not support a single horse or a mule, they certainly would not be able to sustain a unit of cavalry.
General Grant ordered the construction of corduroy roads “every foot of the way as we advanced” toward the country southwest of Petersburg, which was also toward the farthest left flank of the Confederate lines. The general was fairly satisfied with the progress of the corduroying. “The army had become so acquainted to this kind of work,” he said, “and were so well prepared for it, that it was done very rapidly.”6
But even though Grant was satisfied with the road restoration, there were some who thought it might be advisable to postpone the coming assault. General John A. Rawlins, Grant's friend and confident, told the general that he had his doubts about the impending offensive. According to General Rawlins, the success of turning Lee's right flank depended upon quickness of movement, which would be impossible because of the bad weather and the bad roads. If the Federal forces did not move from their present position quickly, Joseph Johnston might attack from the rear. The bad roads would make it impossible to deliver forage to General Sheridan's cavalry, and the inability to move forward would give Lee more time to prepare his defenses. In short, “it might be better to fall back, and make a fresh start later on.”7
General Grant was not impressed with General Rawlins's argument, even though he listened patiently until Rawlins finished. He replied that if Joe Johnston was able to move quickly enough to reach him in such foul weather, he would turn on Johnston with his entire command, annihilate his army, and then go after Lee. Grant was not about to let anything as trivial as bad weather or flooded roads get in his way or interfere with his plans.
No sooner had this conversation ended than General Sheridan rode into the headquarters camp on Breckinridge, his white horse, slowly through knee-deep mud. When he dismounted, the general was asked about “the situation” on the extreme left flank, out toward Dinwiddie Court House. General Sheridan was as forceful and as optimistic in his outlook as General Grant had been. “I can drive in the whole cavalry force of the enemy with ease,” he informed the assembled staff officers—General Grant had retired to his tent—“and if an infantry force is added to my command, I can strike out for Lee's right, and either crush it of force him to so weaken his intrenched lines that our troops in front of him can break through and march into Petersburg.”8 Sheridan's entire manner almost bristled with confidence. If President Lincoln had been present, his many anxieties about the fighting to come would have been put to rest, or at least reduced to their proper perspective.
One of the staff officers brought up the subject of forage—food for the animals—one of General Rawlins's concerns. “Forage!” Sheridan shouted. “I'll get up all the forage I want. I'll haul it out, if I have to set every man in the command to corduroying roads, and corduroying every mile of them from the railroad to Dinwiddie. I tell you, I'm ready to strike out to-morrow and go to smashing things.”9
Grant came over and spoke with General Sheridan in private, on the subject of Sheridan's immediate plans. After about twenty minutes, Sheridan said goodbye to Grant, mounted his horse, waved to the onlooking staff officers, and began riding off to the southwest, toward Dinwiddie. As he had predicted, he would very shortly go to smashing things.
President Lincoln's mind was still as preoccupied with the war as ever, but his view was basically that of an onlooker and spectator. Just standing by and waiting for news was not helping to calm his nerves. If anything, the anticipation of the coming campaign, and the accompanying loss of life, was only serving to make him even more tense and uneasy.
An incident that took place on the night of March 29 gives some idea of the state of the president's mood. Firing broke out in the vicinity of Petersburg at 10:15 p.m., and lasted for two hours. Lincoln described it as “a heavy musketry-fire,” which lasted about two hours.10 “The sound was very distinct here,” in City Point, “as also were the flashes of the guns upon the clouds.” The president was under the impression that “a great battle” had started, “but the older hands here scarcely noticed it, and, sure enough, this morning it was found that very little had been done.”
General John G. Parke, in command of the Ninth Corps, solved the mystery behind all the firing and noise the next day. General Parke telegraphed that the enemy had driven in his picket lines near Fort Stedman—“Signal Rockets were thrown up by the enemy & general cannonading ensued accompanied with heavy musketry on both sides.”11 This is what the president had seen from City Point—not a “great battle” but only a local skirmish. “The main line was not touched,” General Parke went on, “& the picket line re-established.”
This had only been a skirmish, but the battle that the president was anticipating, and that was making him so tense and anxious, was not very far off.