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Once outside, we arranged ourselves into a small circle near the balcony railing. From my position, I could see both Gordon and Davenport, as well as the buildings across the street. Gordon had placed himself in the corner of the wall and the railing, facing Davenport; he, in turn, was seated more or less in the middle of the balcony, facing both of us. After we had settled into the chairs, Davenport began to speak in low, measured tones.
“What I am about to say must remain confidential. Are we in agreement?” He looked at us expectantly. Gordon and I exchanged glances, then nodded. “Good. I must first confess, gentlemen, that my errand here is not purely by accident. I have left instructions at hotels throughout the city to notify me of the arrival of any officers, whatever their provenance.” By this he undoubtedly meant Gordon, a fact not lost upon him from his expression. Whether Davenport took notice or not, he continued. “I do this for two reasons. First, we do not know for certain if the Federal presence here will be contested or if they will withdraw willingly. Until such time as the powers in Washington make their decision known, we must observe their forces at all times. The second reason, perhaps more important, is to identify former Union officers who are willing to serve the Confederate States in their military capacity, and ensure they are placed where they may be most useful. I mentioned to you, Captain,” this was addressed to me, “that certain individuals with political connections are claiming senior positions in the army. While they will need experienced officers underneath them until such time as their military instincts mature, we can ill-afford to have the bulk of our combat forces under untried and untested leadership. I am, therefore, seeking to recruit men such as yourselves to join combat brigades composed of, and led by, career military officers. This will serve as the backbone of our forces as we build our nation, and provide a reliable defense in the event of,” here he paused, “hostilities.”
“Sir, with respect, what you propose seems perfectly straightforward and common sense. Why the secrecy?” I asked. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Gordon nodding in support.
“Because, Captain, the politicians, at least some of them, believe the old way of doing things is why we’re in the situation we are now. I fail to see what the one has to do with the other, quite frankly. But that is not the view of some of the more influential people. Officers are being assigned with no regard to their skills or previous assignments. Artillerists are being made engineers. Cavalry officers are being made into aides. Infantrymen are,” he looked down at his sleeve with its blue trim, “assigned as quartermasters and supply officers. The whole system is being jeopardized by men who think war is a grand adventure, full of pretty uniforms, and impassioned speeches, and swooning ladies. Men who’ve never heard a shot fired in anger, or seen men with gaping holes from bullets, or torn apart by canister, or...” He paused, retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his now-red face, allowing the emotion to subside. “Forgive me for speaking thusly gentlemen, I know what war looks like, and I know that unless we have a solid body of reliable men, men who have faced the enemy in battle, we will be ill-equipped to defend our independence.”
I looked down at the street below, the crowds of people hurrying along on their errands. I thought of my own captaincy, a promotion neither earned nor deserved, but given on the basis that other men had already left the service and company commanders were needed. I hadn’t actually been in combat- I was an engineer, fighting was not what we did. But I had served in Texas, scouting out Mexican border positions and garrisons, supply depots, and other targets of interest for our forces arrayed along that border. Frequently that meant I was in a position where the Mexicans didn’t want me to be, and they expressed their displeasure through shooting. I had been wounded once, a minor wound at that, and I had lost men I had commanded; that was more painful than the leg wound. But my actions had been hailed by the Army as commendable, and I was given a merit promotion to First Lieutenant well ahead of my peers. With the promotion came a transfer to Washington, where I was assigned to evaluation of inventions submitted for military use. Although interesting and informative about the potential future of warfare, the assignment didn’t offer the same chances of promotion of a field command. After the Cotton States seceded, along with a number of officers from local regiments, I submitted my name as a replacement company commander. My prior service and merit promotion (and a need for continuity of command, more than anything else) led to my quick selection as company commander with a promotion to Captain. However, with the subsequent secession of Virginia, I was forced to choose between my home and family, and the Union and the Army; there was really no choice. Home had to come first, or why else was I fighting? Thus, I was a company commander with no actual command experience. What value would I bring to the units Colonel Davenport was proposing?
Captain Gordon was having the same thoughts. “Sir, with respect I have limited command experience. I served in Texas, mainly fighting Indians and bandits. Small units, eight, maybe ten troopers staging out of the fort into remote encampments. On paper I had a substantial command, but in practice I only ever led about a dozen men at a time. There was never a great enough concentration of enemy in any one place to make it practical. When we’d gather the regiment in one location, the hostiles would raid everywhere else. We had to maintain a presence in a dozen places simultaneously, and that just kept them from rampaging. I’m eager to accept whatever assignment I’m given, but I need to be perfectly clear on what my experience is, exactly.”
Davenport gave a thin smile. “Captain, I appreciate your candor but I feel you do yourself a disservice. The Yankees aren’t in any better position with their manpower, and they’re drawing upon state militias to oppose us. Do you suppose the militia has any broader experience than you? Captain Glenn, you haven’t said anything but may I presume you share Captain Gordon’s concerns? If so, do you believe the men the Yankees replace you with will stand and fight any better than you?”
I answered him directly. “No Sir. I do not believe they will find men with more experience than I, as they would have done so before promoting me. And I do not believe the militias will perform any better. If I may speak for Captain Gordon, I believe our concern was that we would let down our people through a lack of ability, rather than a lack of nerve. You provide a different perspective to view the situation, and I think it addresses our concerns.” I stopped as I saw Gordon begin to interrupt.
“Colonel, Captain Glenn is quite correct. Neither of us shies away from our duty, nor from a fight. Our concern is simply that we lack the necessary command experience commensurate with our rank. If we are to be, as you indicate, the bulwark against Yankee invasion should it come to that, a lot will ride upon our abilities. While we are glad of the opportunity and will rise to the demands placed upon us, we felt it necessary to provide you with some background to ensure you are comfortable with the decision you make.” He finished speaking and looked at me for confirmation; I nodded my assent.
“Gentlemen, I thank you again for your honesty. It is indeed refreshing, after listening to pompous men puff up their credentials day after day, worming their way into positions of great responsibility without the least concern for their performance, or for the calamity which entrusting such power to such men could cause. The simple fact is, neither side will have a great advantage in experienced company and field grade officers. Our advantage, however, will be in preparing a cadre of experienced troops to confront any enemy initiative. I propose, therefore, that you accompany me to the War Department tomorrow afternoon, so we may assign you to appropriate positions.”
Once again Gordon and I exchanged glances. I had instructions to report to the War Department already, was he countering those orders? I was certain his name wasn’t on the telegram, and he had admitted he was here due to notification by the front desk, so it was likely he wasn’t from the same department. Was I doing the right thing by following his instructions? Or committing a grave error? I hadn’t expected these types of undercurrents when I had volunteered for service- I expected every Virginian was a faithful servant of the Old Dominion, and would do right by her. But from what Colonel Davenport was saying, many men were motivated by lust for power and prestige...and what about him? Was he one of them? He’d already admitted to wanting to command a regiment, was this his way of doing so? Did that make him wrong?
Gordon cleared his throat. “Begging the Colonel’s pardon, but I had really intended to return home and offer my services to South Carolina. I resigned to fight for my home state and my kin. No offense toward Virginia, and I’m certain we’ll all be in this together, but I’d rather fight with my own.”
Davenport looked displeased. “Captain, we are all fighting for one thing: Independence. Where you fight may make a difference in whether or not we achieve that goal. Right now, discussions are being held to move the capitol here, to Richmond, and to consolidate all our forces under one Confederate States Army. What do you suppose will happen in the meantime, if the Yankees decide to attack while we’re still negotiating? Where do you think they will strike? Are they going to attack South Carolina? By sea? No- they’re going to march right through Virginia, and if we don’t stop them here they’ll just keep on marching. And let me tell you, Captain, that if Virginia can’t hold them, then many of the other states might just rethink secession, and then where will we be? Right back in the Union, with the same threats to our way of life we thought were so damned important we were willing to part company. So if you truly want to protect South Carolina, you stand a better chance of doing that here, in Richmond.” He abruptly stood. “Gentlemen, I thank you for your time and I will take no more of it. I will await you at the War Department tomorrow at 1:00. If you choose not to join me, I will respect your decision and I wish you well. I believe you would be making a mistake, however. In any event, I bid you good day.” With that, he swiftly strode down the hallway and out the door, leaving Gordon and I stunned by his departure.
I stood up and walked to the railing, resting my hands on the cold metal. I heard Gordon push his chair back, and then he was beside me. We watched the crowds below in silence for a few short moments, trying to fathom what had just transpired. Finally, I turned to Gordon. “So that was Colonel Davenport.”
Gordon laughed, breaking the tension. “Lieutenant Colonel Davenport, don’t you mean? My word, what a charming gentleman. I joined in with his laughter. “So Matthew, what do you think about his offer?” He raised his eyebrows quizzically, waiting for my response.
“A very interesting proposal. Join his private army, or lose the war. Does that about capture his position?” Gordon nodded, beaming. “My God, what a day. I’m in Richmond for less than an hour and I end up with a runaway Yankee,” Gordon stopped smiling and glared at me, “and a jumped-up Captain who warns of political officers with a lust for power, who can only be stopped by joining his command. You know, he never did mention what exactly his command was, did he?”
Gordon, who had resumed smiling again, agreed. “You’re right. He alluded to Quartermasters and supply officers while ranting about unit assignments, but he’s wearing infantry blue. So is that where he’s been assigned or where he’s going to be assigned? I mean, was he expecting to be infantry and was assigned as a quartermaster, or was he a quartermaster and has decided to be infantry? You notice, too, he left out any details of his service? You explained how you got to be a Captain, yet he was a Captain who became a Lieutenant Colonel?” He shook his head in wonder. “I must admit, I am very confused here.”
I nodded in agreement. This was very confusing, and not what I expected. I felt disturbed by this whole turn of events- the hostility of the desk clerk over Gordon’s uniform, the way that Colonel Davenport had said ‘Yankees’ with barely-concealed distaste. His whole manner, come to think of it. I understood his concerns about political officers, but his system was self-serving; by ‘poaching’ officers for his personal command, he was depriving the newly-raised Confederate forces of much-needed experienced manpower. Even if he raised a regiment of experienced men, it would still be placed under one of the ‘political generals’ to whom he was so opposed. Better to spread the veteran troops throughout the army, rather than concentrate them into one regiment which might be detailed to guard Richmond. “I have a telegram from the War Department. That is the only official communication I have from Virginia, and the only one I intend to honor. If Virginia places her forces under command of the Confederacy, as the good Colonel indicated, then so be it. But I resigned from the Army in order to defend my home, and therefore I must offer my services here, first.”
Gordon smiled. “I think that’s the best, perhaps the only advisable course of action right now. If you don’t mind, I should like to accompany you to your meeting- perhaps the officials there might facilitate my return home,” he concluded grimly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to see about something to eat and then perhaps arrange for some less conspicuous clothing. Maybe that fool of a desk clerk can provide some service.” With that, he left the balcony and headed back down the hall. I heard the door slam as he left, over the din from the street below. Smiling, I tried to imagine the impending scene at the front desk.