Washington City
March 1864
Sitting in his office in the War Department in Washington, McClellan heard the distant boom of the big guns. He was accustomed to Burgoyne’s hit and run tactics, sending a battery to a hill on the Maryland side of the Potomac and lobbing some shells into the city. This was different. These guns were much farther away, but from inside the building McClellan couldn’t tell from which direction the sound was coming.
“Captain Wilson, if you please.”
An officer appeared in the doorway before McClellan had finished speaking.
“Sir?”
“Captain, do we know what guns those are? Odd that Grant would force the Potomac crossings with artillery. Send the cavalry.”
Wilson hesitated for an instant, and said, “Sir, the cannon fire is coming from north of us.”
“North? Burgoyne’s guns? Who would he be firing at so far a distance?”
At that instant another officer appeared at the door, one who looked like he’d just ridden a long distance very quickly. The officer, chest heaving and red in the face, looked at Wilson, then McClellan, saluted, and said, “Begging your pardon, sir. General Grant’s compliments and he wishes to report that he has engaged the British Army in the vicinity of—” The officer pulled a paper from his pocket, glanced at it, replaced it, and continued. “He has engaged the enemy in the vicinity of Rockville. The enemy is in flight, and General Grant is in pursuit, sir.”
McClellan stared at the officer in disbelief. “Have you come directly from General Grant, captain?”
The captain, at first believing he was the bearer of great tidings, began to understand that the commanding general might see things differently.
“Uh, I have, sir.”
“When did General Grant begin his march toward Rockville?”
“That would have been yesterday evening, sir. A night march. We were in position by daybreak and attacked at midday. Many of the enemy soldiers were eating their lunch or sleeping. It was the most splendid surprise, sir.” This last was said in a trailing voice, as if he no longer believed it.
“Indeed, captain. I shall have a message for you to take back to General Grant. Wilson, find the captain a change of horses and something warm to eat and drink.”
After Wilson and the courier left together, McClellan slumped in his chair. So this was what Lincoln meant by considerable latitude. Undertaking a major attack within earshot of the Federal capital and the commanding general and sending notice only once the attack was underway. It’s exactly what I feared, but unacceptable nonetheless.
McClellan took a sheet of writing paper from the desk, dipped his pen in the well, and began. General: Your courier has informed me that a general action is underway against the British Army.
McClellan stared at the paper, pen in hand, then carefully placed the pen back in the well. He crumbled the paper into a ball, stood up, and walked over to the fire, tossing the paper into the blaze.
Wilson returned, alone, and stood at the door at something resembling attention. McClellan put on his cloak and hat and walked past Wilson into the corridor.
Wilson scrambled to find his own cloak and ran behind the general. “Sir? Where are we going?”
“We’re soldiers, Captain Wilson. To the sound of the guns.”