--FIRST -PREV NEXT-
July 1 -- July 2 -- July 3 -- July 4 -- July 5
"And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered..." -- King Henry V
George Meade was not a man given to dramatic, flowery speeches. It would never have occurred to him to bust out in the kind of glorious oratory that Shakespeare attributes to old Harry in the famous play. But even if he were, Meade might not have thought it absolutely necessary. Yes, he expected Lee to try to run it up the middle, having already tried both of his flanks. But he liked his position, and he liked the mettle of his men. If that battle were his lot today, he'd take it.
Robert E. Lee wasn't famous for his stirring speeches, either. He was a quiet, private man by nature. He knew the dire straits his army was in, though, and if he had it in him to pull a St. Crispin's Day speech out of his hat, he'd have certainly given it a shot. But he had something almost as good: late yesterday afternoon, his "prodigal son" Jeb Stuart finally showed up. He wasn't exactly ... happy ... with his cavalry chief, but knew what he was capable of when his head was screwed on straight. And he needed Stuart's wizardry in the saddle if he was going to pull a victory out of this mess.
Meade was right: Lee was going to try to run it up the middle today. Now, if that was all he was going to try then there's no way the plan could possibly end but disaster. Marching men uphill against protected infantry plus artillery was a recipe for an enormous casualty list, to no gain worth mentioning. No, the plan had to have more. Now that Stuart was there with his cavalry corps, Lee felt he had all the pieces he needed.
The plan had three elements. First, his artillery commander E. Porter Alexander would lay on a barrage that would suppress the Union artillery on Cemetery Ridge. Second, Stuart would lead his cavalry around the right flank of the Federal line, to strike at their rear. Third, there would be a simultaneous assault by Longstreet's infantry on the front, concentrated such that the Confederates would be able to overwhelm the Union troops and break their line. By hitting them in two places at once, it was hoped Meade would be unable to shift reserves fast enough to seal the breach.
Unfortunately for Lee, the Plan Fairy wasn't his friend today, because things began to unravel almost immediately. The problems began with the artillery bombardment. Alexander faced two significant challenges. First, he was firing uphill, and the Union gunners were firing downhill. That automatically gave the Union gunners a significant range advantage. Alexander had to put his ammunition storage well back from the front, otherwise the Union artillery would blast them to scrap in fairly short order. This hindered Alexander's rate of fire. The other problem was one that Alexander had no way of knowing about. Most of Alexander's shells weren't hitting Union positions. They were sailing overhead, smashing into unoccupied areas in the Federal rear.
An idea began to dawn upon the Federal artillery commander, Brigadier General Henry Hunt. He wanted to save ammunition for the assault that was sure to come. But, he didn't want to cut fire all at once, since that would tip his hand. Instead, he had his batteries quit firing one at a time, in semi-random order. One here, another there, a third down the line... He wanted to give the impression that the Confederates were taking out his guns.
No one's sure if Lee or Alexander bought the ruse. It wouldn't have mattered. The orders went out for Stuart and Longstreet go prepare their attacks.
Stuart's ride started out well enough. He made it all the way around, east of the Federal positions. Unfortunately, when he began to turn to head towards the Federal rear, he found that the Federal cavalry was there waiting for him. By Civil War standards the casualties were almost negligible. But the damage to Lee's plan was incalculable.
The orders had already been given. No one knew, no one could know, that no attack from the rear was coming. Longstreet, who had deep misgivings about the plan from the start, could hardly bear to give the final orders to advance. Some say that a subordinate had to give them. But, given they were.
The Confederate bombardment had not silenced the Union guns. The Confederate cavalry had not pierced the Union rear. Fifteen thousand men marched into a Hell of fire and lead, about half made it back to the Confederate lines when it was over. Miraculously, they made it to the wall, General Pickett's men, from General Armistead's brigade, had actually broken through. But that wasn't enough. General Hancock was able to put enough men into the breach to seal it up.
This was an especially poignant moment. Armistead and Hancock had been the best and closest of friends before the war. Both men were wounded in the attack. Armistead's prayer was answered, after a fashion; Hancock recovered from his wounds, but Armistead did not. (Richard Jordan's work here is doubly poignant, since it was his last role before he died of brain cancer.)
Lee was appalled at the casualties, and would regret ordering this charge for the rest of his life. He had the survivors form up to receive a possible Union counter-attack, but none was coming. Meade had his hands full reorganizing his men, having pulled so many from other units to plug holes here and there. Besides, he saw how that whole marching-across-a-field-under-fire thing worked out, and wanted no part of it.
There would be no significant actions the next day. Under an unofficial truce, they collected their wounded and their dead. Later on that same day, Lee withdrew and began his retreat towards Virginia. While he regretted that charge on the third day, he nevertheless saw the campaign as an overall success. He'd achieved clear successes on two of his goals, gathering supplies and keeping the Union busy somewhere other than Virginia. As for the third goal, well, public opinion in the Union might turn against the war eventually. That was always a long-term project. He had a year and change, until November 1864, to make that happen.
He might have been less optimistic, had he known what was happening out West. As bad as Gettysburg's third day had been, worse news was yet to come.
Wednesday, July 03, 2013
Tuesday, July 02, 2013
Sesquicentennial, Part XXVIII: July 2, 1863
--FIRST -PREV NEXT-
July 1 -- July 2 -- July 3 -- July 4 -- July 5
"On difficult ground, press on; on hemmed-in ground, use subterfuge; on death ground, fight." -- Sun Tzu
All through the night, Union reinforcements arrived at Cemetery Hill and Cemetery Ridge. By morning, six of the seven Corps that made up the Army of the Potomac had arrived at the scene. John Sedgwick's V Corps was still enroute, about thirty miles away and closing. With the bulk of the Army of the Potomac came its new commander, General Meade. His was a difficult position: with only days to study the predicament, he had to join his new command while the battle was already in progress. Fortunately for him, the day's actions didn't commence straight away, and he had a bit of time to take stock of the situation. Holding such a strong defensive position, it seemed to Meade that the best course of action by far would be to sit tight, and let Lee come to him. He saw the same thing that Hancock had seen the day before, all the advantages lay with the Union -- high ground, interior lines of communication, more men and guns at his disposal. There was no need for him to come down off the ridge to engage the enemy. The enemy would have to come and fight, or go home. And Meade was fairly sure Lee wasn't going to go home, not just yet.
But a few peculiar things happened before the battle was joined in earnest. The first had to do with the peculiarities of the landscape, the second had to do with the peculiarities of a certain Union officer.
Lines of sight can be tricky things. I know of a place in the Wichita Mountains in Oklahoma, a certain small gorge that is utterly invisible from the road. You can drive by every day for years and never notice it's there, but if you know just the right place to park, and walk just ten yards off the road, there it is. To an eye unfamiliar with the terrain, the hills south of Gettysburg can play tricks on you.
The main point being ... from his headquarters on Seminary Ridge, Lee could not see the Union deployments to the south or east of Cemetery Ridge. His plan of attack, meant to turn the Union left flank, was as follows: Ewell would mount a diversionary attack on Culp's Hill. If the diversion looked like it was actually going to go anywhere, Lee reserved the option to commit more forces there. But the main attack would be on the left, with Longstreet's divisions attacking through the Peach Orchard and the Devil's Den. After this attack was underway, A.P. Hill would attack Cemetery Ridge directly, to prevent Meade from reinforcing his flank. Lee was utterly unaware that Union troops were already deployed farther south than he expected.
The thing is ... Union forces were also deployed farther west than Meade expected, as well. Which brings us to the aforementioned peculiarities of a Union officer, the first man ever to use an insanity defense successfully in American legal history, General Daniel Sickles. Sickles didn't like his assigned place on the line. He thought another ridge slightly to the west offered higher ground, and a better vantage for his guns. So, without asking Meade's permission, or for that matter even telling him where he was going, Sickles redeployed his Corps.
When Longstreet's attack ran into Union forces pretty much where every officer who wasn't Dan Sickles expected empty ground, Lee's carefully-engineered plan started to go cubist. Not that Meade was any better off, since Sickles' extemporaneous reorganization left a few honking great gaps in his lines. Meade had two huge strokes of luck: first, Lee couldn't see those holes, the terrain being what it was; and second, he had enough reserves to plug the holes ... provided that Sickles and his men could blunt the charge long enough.
They were certainly going to try. It's not like they had much choice. Because of his forward stance, the Confederates could flank Sickles on both sides, and did so. But they could no longer pursue their original plan. Those of Longstreet's men who weren't already engaged had to march farther south and east than they'd originally intended, and by the time they got there, Meade had forces there waiting for them.
What was happening in the Peach Orchard and Devil's Den was exactly no one's idea of a fun time, with the possible exception of General Sickles, but we've already established that Dan-O was nuttier than a short ton of Almond Joy. We'll never know what the rest of Sickles' plan was, since a Confederate cannon ball caught him in the leg and took it off, taking Sickles out of the fight. One of his subordinates remarked, uncharitably, "Bad news for Sickles, good news for the Army." But even though it cost dearly in casualties, it's possible that his crazy stunt kept Lee's attack from coming off as he'd originally planned.
Even so, it was a near-run thing. Even so, Hood nearly turned the Union flank. The very end of the line was held by the 20th Maine Volunteer Regiment. They endured ninety minutes of fearful, intense, non-stop combat. They'd beaten off two charges by Hood's men, but had suffered nearly fifty percent casualties, and were just about out of ammunition. Before they could get additional men or supplies, the Confederates came for one last try. The commander of the 20th Maine, Lieutenant Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, made a decision that would later cement his place in American history.
The bayonet charge broke the last attack, and there were no more attempts on the left flank that day. There would be sporadic fighting on the right until nightfall, but as promising as Ewell's attacks were in the beginning, they were never able to gain enough of a foothold to matter. In time, they, too, had to withdraw.
Later that night, Meade called a council of war. He explained the situation as he saw it, and asked his senior commanders one question: go, or no go? Do we fight it out here, or do we withdraw?
On the one hand, every one of these men had memories of being badly mishandled by Lee. They had a healthy respect for his ability to seemingly pull miracles out of nowhere, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat more than once. But on the other ... they held their ground today. They felt good about their positions, had great confidence in the bravery and competence of their men. Gone were the green-horns that bolted in fear from Bull Run. The ones that were left after the brutal winnowing of two years of war were hardened, skilled veterans. The vote was: we stay. We fight.
Meade was relieved. He didn't think his men would vote to withdraw, but he was gratified that their confidence matched his own. He expected that Lee would try the center tomorrow, having tried to turn both flanks.
But come what may, the Army of the Potomac was going to stand its ground and fight.
July 1 -- July 2 -- July 3 -- July 4 -- July 5
"On difficult ground, press on; on hemmed-in ground, use subterfuge; on death ground, fight." -- Sun Tzu
All through the night, Union reinforcements arrived at Cemetery Hill and Cemetery Ridge. By morning, six of the seven Corps that made up the Army of the Potomac had arrived at the scene. John Sedgwick's V Corps was still enroute, about thirty miles away and closing. With the bulk of the Army of the Potomac came its new commander, General Meade. His was a difficult position: with only days to study the predicament, he had to join his new command while the battle was already in progress. Fortunately for him, the day's actions didn't commence straight away, and he had a bit of time to take stock of the situation. Holding such a strong defensive position, it seemed to Meade that the best course of action by far would be to sit tight, and let Lee come to him. He saw the same thing that Hancock had seen the day before, all the advantages lay with the Union -- high ground, interior lines of communication, more men and guns at his disposal. There was no need for him to come down off the ridge to engage the enemy. The enemy would have to come and fight, or go home. And Meade was fairly sure Lee wasn't going to go home, not just yet.
But a few peculiar things happened before the battle was joined in earnest. The first had to do with the peculiarities of the landscape, the second had to do with the peculiarities of a certain Union officer.
Lines of sight can be tricky things. I know of a place in the Wichita Mountains in Oklahoma, a certain small gorge that is utterly invisible from the road. You can drive by every day for years and never notice it's there, but if you know just the right place to park, and walk just ten yards off the road, there it is. To an eye unfamiliar with the terrain, the hills south of Gettysburg can play tricks on you.
The main point being ... from his headquarters on Seminary Ridge, Lee could not see the Union deployments to the south or east of Cemetery Ridge. His plan of attack, meant to turn the Union left flank, was as follows: Ewell would mount a diversionary attack on Culp's Hill. If the diversion looked like it was actually going to go anywhere, Lee reserved the option to commit more forces there. But the main attack would be on the left, with Longstreet's divisions attacking through the Peach Orchard and the Devil's Den. After this attack was underway, A.P. Hill would attack Cemetery Ridge directly, to prevent Meade from reinforcing his flank. Lee was utterly unaware that Union troops were already deployed farther south than he expected.
The thing is ... Union forces were also deployed farther west than Meade expected, as well. Which brings us to the aforementioned peculiarities of a Union officer, the first man ever to use an insanity defense successfully in American legal history, General Daniel Sickles. Sickles didn't like his assigned place on the line. He thought another ridge slightly to the west offered higher ground, and a better vantage for his guns. So, without asking Meade's permission, or for that matter even telling him where he was going, Sickles redeployed his Corps.
When Longstreet's attack ran into Union forces pretty much where every officer who wasn't Dan Sickles expected empty ground, Lee's carefully-engineered plan started to go cubist. Not that Meade was any better off, since Sickles' extemporaneous reorganization left a few honking great gaps in his lines. Meade had two huge strokes of luck: first, Lee couldn't see those holes, the terrain being what it was; and second, he had enough reserves to plug the holes ... provided that Sickles and his men could blunt the charge long enough.
They were certainly going to try. It's not like they had much choice. Because of his forward stance, the Confederates could flank Sickles on both sides, and did so. But they could no longer pursue their original plan. Those of Longstreet's men who weren't already engaged had to march farther south and east than they'd originally intended, and by the time they got there, Meade had forces there waiting for them.
What was happening in the Peach Orchard and Devil's Den was exactly no one's idea of a fun time, with the possible exception of General Sickles, but we've already established that Dan-O was nuttier than a short ton of Almond Joy. We'll never know what the rest of Sickles' plan was, since a Confederate cannon ball caught him in the leg and took it off, taking Sickles out of the fight. One of his subordinates remarked, uncharitably, "Bad news for Sickles, good news for the Army." But even though it cost dearly in casualties, it's possible that his crazy stunt kept Lee's attack from coming off as he'd originally planned.
Even so, it was a near-run thing. Even so, Hood nearly turned the Union flank. The very end of the line was held by the 20th Maine Volunteer Regiment. They endured ninety minutes of fearful, intense, non-stop combat. They'd beaten off two charges by Hood's men, but had suffered nearly fifty percent casualties, and were just about out of ammunition. Before they could get additional men or supplies, the Confederates came for one last try. The commander of the 20th Maine, Lieutenant Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, made a decision that would later cement his place in American history.
The bayonet charge broke the last attack, and there were no more attempts on the left flank that day. There would be sporadic fighting on the right until nightfall, but as promising as Ewell's attacks were in the beginning, they were never able to gain enough of a foothold to matter. In time, they, too, had to withdraw.
Later that night, Meade called a council of war. He explained the situation as he saw it, and asked his senior commanders one question: go, or no go? Do we fight it out here, or do we withdraw?
On the one hand, every one of these men had memories of being badly mishandled by Lee. They had a healthy respect for his ability to seemingly pull miracles out of nowhere, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat more than once. But on the other ... they held their ground today. They felt good about their positions, had great confidence in the bravery and competence of their men. Gone were the green-horns that bolted in fear from Bull Run. The ones that were left after the brutal winnowing of two years of war were hardened, skilled veterans. The vote was: we stay. We fight.
Meade was relieved. He didn't think his men would vote to withdraw, but he was gratified that their confidence matched his own. He expected that Lee would try the center tomorrow, having tried to turn both flanks.
But come what may, the Army of the Potomac was going to stand its ground and fight.
Monday, July 01, 2013
Sesquicentennial, Part XXVII: July 1, 1863
--FIRST -PREV NEXT-
July 1 -- July 2 -- July 3 -- July 4 -- July 5
"Where there is no vision, the people perish ..." -- Proverbs 29:18
Nowadays, we take the aerial, God's-eye view of the battlefield for granted. We forget that it's less than a hundred years old. Today's commander has a plethora of eyes to deploy: enormous downward-pointing telescopes in Earth orbit, telescopic sensors mounted on U-2 aircraft flying at 80,000 feet above the battlefield, any of several kinds of drones, or sensor pods slung underneath a low-flying helicopter or fighter jet. If an enemy is foolish enough to be out in the open, day or night, cloud or clear, rain or shine, it's Candid Camera time, followed shortly by an Explodium Candygram.
A century and a half ago, a commander's eyes were seldom any higher off the ground than horseback. A man on horseback made for a pretty good scout. Unfortunately for General Robert E. Lee, it had been about a week since he'd last seen his cavalry chief, General J.E.B. Stuart. And as a result, he only had the vaguest of ideas where the Union army was.
Partly, the Union army was busy changing commanders. Again. Hooker had gotten in a spat with someone at headquarters, and in the heat of argument offered his resignation to President Lincoln. Hooker hadn't expected Lincoln to accept. This, a moment when a rebel army was marching into your territory, seemed like a damned odd time to switch out the top officer of your largest field army. It was a puzzling decision ... except that Hooker had already lost Lincoln's confidence, and Lincoln was looking for an opportunity to replace him. In his stead, he sent General George Gordon Meade to take his place. In the meantime, the Union army would have to trundle along, trusting to the competence of its brigade and division commanders.
Fortunately, most of them knew their jobs pretty well. The Union army was shadowing Lee's northward progress, on the other side of the mountain ridge. Such was the paucity of information available to Lee that he didn't discover until June 29th that the Union army had crossed the Potomac river, several days after the event. The news was an unwelcome surprise, since Lee's army was strung out on an arc between Chambersville, Carlisle, and Wrightsville. He needed to concentrate his forces, quick, or be defeated in detail. He also needed to know where the Union army actually was, with equal urgency. He issued orders to assemble at Cashtown, which was in a reasonably defensible position.
The next day, General Pettigrew made what would become a momentous decision. He heard that a great store of supplies was available in a nearby town, called Gettysburg. He ventured a reconnaissance-in-force to see if these reports were accurate, because his troops were in pretty desperate need of shoes.
The good news is that they found shoes. The bad news is that they were attached to the feet of dismounted Union cavalry under Brigadier General John Buford. Both Union and Confederate commanders sent runners back to their respective armies that they had made contact with the enemy.
The Battle of Gettysburg had begun.
Buford knew that he wasn't going to hold his position with just one division of cavalry, so he laid out defenses on three ridges to the north and west of town, intending to fight a delaying action until the Army of the Potomac could occupy the far better defensive position south and east of the town. He was joined by two divisions of infantry, which gave him a little more staying power. With this many soldiers at his disposal, Buford and company could execute a fighting withdrawal through the city of Gettysburg itself, an operation that would chew up most of the day.
This, of course, is exactly what Buford had in mind. You see, people tend to see what they want to see. And, several times before, the Confederates had seen the Yankees flee before them in panicked rout. On this day, enchanted by the loot of Gettysburg itself, their eager eyes couldn't tell the difference between panicked rout and planned fighting withdrawal. Otherwise, someone might have said, "Hey, this is too easy. Are they playing us for suckers?"
Meanwhile, the Army of the Potomac was beginning to arrive in force, and took up positions on Cemetery Hill, just to the southeast of town. Meade had sent General Winfield Scott Hancock on ahead to take stock of the situation, and when he got there, he liked what he saw. "I think this is the strongest position by nature upon which to fight a battle that I ever saw," he said. Now, this might have been smoke and mirrors to boost the morale of the men, but this was a pretty fearsome defensive position. The hills surrounding Cemetery Hill formed a fish-hook shape, which not only gave him the advantage of high ground, but the further advantage on interior lines of communication. He had it all: high ground, a convex front, and a numerical advantage. Hancock liked those odds.
Lee didn't. As night was falling, he knew he had to do something about that before the rest of Meade's men showed up. He dashed off an order to one of his Corps commanders, General Ewell, that the position on Culp's Hill must be taken ... "if practicable."
Once again, Lee was far too polite for his own good. Ewell's men had been marching and fighting all day. Night was falling, and in such a state Ewell wasn't sure of his ability to control and co-ordinate a night-time battle. He decided that such an assault wasn't practicable, and did not attack.
Thus passed Lee's best chance for a victory. Because while additional Union forces would trickle in all through the night, Lee had as many men as he was ever going to get, minus Stuart's cavalry, whenever he decided to show up. The math wasn't ever going to get any friendlier for Johnny Reb. But that didn't matter.
Lee and Meade were encamped across a field from one another. Come Hell or high water, Lee was going to try to turn Meade's flank in the morning.
But on the bright side, the Confederates had achieved one of the major goals of the campaign: there were plenty of shoes to be had in Gettysburg.
July 1 -- July 2 -- July 3 -- July 4 -- July 5
"Where there is no vision, the people perish ..." -- Proverbs 29:18
Nowadays, we take the aerial, God's-eye view of the battlefield for granted. We forget that it's less than a hundred years old. Today's commander has a plethora of eyes to deploy: enormous downward-pointing telescopes in Earth orbit, telescopic sensors mounted on U-2 aircraft flying at 80,000 feet above the battlefield, any of several kinds of drones, or sensor pods slung underneath a low-flying helicopter or fighter jet. If an enemy is foolish enough to be out in the open, day or night, cloud or clear, rain or shine, it's Candid Camera time, followed shortly by an Explodium Candygram.
A century and a half ago, a commander's eyes were seldom any higher off the ground than horseback. A man on horseback made for a pretty good scout. Unfortunately for General Robert E. Lee, it had been about a week since he'd last seen his cavalry chief, General J.E.B. Stuart. And as a result, he only had the vaguest of ideas where the Union army was.
Partly, the Union army was busy changing commanders. Again. Hooker had gotten in a spat with someone at headquarters, and in the heat of argument offered his resignation to President Lincoln. Hooker hadn't expected Lincoln to accept. This, a moment when a rebel army was marching into your territory, seemed like a damned odd time to switch out the top officer of your largest field army. It was a puzzling decision ... except that Hooker had already lost Lincoln's confidence, and Lincoln was looking for an opportunity to replace him. In his stead, he sent General George Gordon Meade to take his place. In the meantime, the Union army would have to trundle along, trusting to the competence of its brigade and division commanders.
Fortunately, most of them knew their jobs pretty well. The Union army was shadowing Lee's northward progress, on the other side of the mountain ridge. Such was the paucity of information available to Lee that he didn't discover until June 29th that the Union army had crossed the Potomac river, several days after the event. The news was an unwelcome surprise, since Lee's army was strung out on an arc between Chambersville, Carlisle, and Wrightsville. He needed to concentrate his forces, quick, or be defeated in detail. He also needed to know where the Union army actually was, with equal urgency. He issued orders to assemble at Cashtown, which was in a reasonably defensible position.
The next day, General Pettigrew made what would become a momentous decision. He heard that a great store of supplies was available in a nearby town, called Gettysburg. He ventured a reconnaissance-in-force to see if these reports were accurate, because his troops were in pretty desperate need of shoes.
The good news is that they found shoes. The bad news is that they were attached to the feet of dismounted Union cavalry under Brigadier General John Buford. Both Union and Confederate commanders sent runners back to their respective armies that they had made contact with the enemy.
The Battle of Gettysburg had begun.
Buford knew that he wasn't going to hold his position with just one division of cavalry, so he laid out defenses on three ridges to the north and west of town, intending to fight a delaying action until the Army of the Potomac could occupy the far better defensive position south and east of the town. He was joined by two divisions of infantry, which gave him a little more staying power. With this many soldiers at his disposal, Buford and company could execute a fighting withdrawal through the city of Gettysburg itself, an operation that would chew up most of the day.
This, of course, is exactly what Buford had in mind. You see, people tend to see what they want to see. And, several times before, the Confederates had seen the Yankees flee before them in panicked rout. On this day, enchanted by the loot of Gettysburg itself, their eager eyes couldn't tell the difference between panicked rout and planned fighting withdrawal. Otherwise, someone might have said, "Hey, this is too easy. Are they playing us for suckers?"
Meanwhile, the Army of the Potomac was beginning to arrive in force, and took up positions on Cemetery Hill, just to the southeast of town. Meade had sent General Winfield Scott Hancock on ahead to take stock of the situation, and when he got there, he liked what he saw. "I think this is the strongest position by nature upon which to fight a battle that I ever saw," he said. Now, this might have been smoke and mirrors to boost the morale of the men, but this was a pretty fearsome defensive position. The hills surrounding Cemetery Hill formed a fish-hook shape, which not only gave him the advantage of high ground, but the further advantage on interior lines of communication. He had it all: high ground, a convex front, and a numerical advantage. Hancock liked those odds.
Lee didn't. As night was falling, he knew he had to do something about that before the rest of Meade's men showed up. He dashed off an order to one of his Corps commanders, General Ewell, that the position on Culp's Hill must be taken ... "if practicable."
Once again, Lee was far too polite for his own good. Ewell's men had been marching and fighting all day. Night was falling, and in such a state Ewell wasn't sure of his ability to control and co-ordinate a night-time battle. He decided that such an assault wasn't practicable, and did not attack.
Thus passed Lee's best chance for a victory. Because while additional Union forces would trickle in all through the night, Lee had as many men as he was ever going to get, minus Stuart's cavalry, whenever he decided to show up. The math wasn't ever going to get any friendlier for Johnny Reb. But that didn't matter.
Lee and Meade were encamped across a field from one another. Come Hell or high water, Lee was going to try to turn Meade's flank in the morning.
But on the bright side, the Confederates had achieved one of the major goals of the campaign: there were plenty of shoes to be had in Gettysburg.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Sesquicentennial, Part XXVI: A Series Of Unfortunate Events
--FIRST -PREV NEXT-
... next fall there will be a great change in public opinion at the North. The Republicans will be destroyed & I think the friends of peace will become so strong that the next administration will go in on that basis.
-- General Robert E. Lee, April 19th
Lee's victory at Chancellorsville, while great, changed nothing. The Confederacy's one and only hope at this point was that the public in the Union become so sick of war that they will accept a peace that divides what was once held to be indivisible. When you ask why Lee would dare to invade a country so much larger and more populous than his own, this is one of the reasons. It is the only way to victory. There are, of course, several others.
Lee's immediate goal, of course, is supply. The Confederacy has but little to offer, and the Army of Northern Virginia is not the only army slowly starving in the field. The farms of Maryland and Pennsylvania, on the other hand, brim over with all manner of good things that a soldier can eat. And use. While Napoleon did say an army marches on its stomach, it also marches on its feet, and too many of those Southern feet had no shoes.
Also, while Lee was making mischief in Maryland, Hooker wouldn't be making mischief in Virginia. If Lee went north, Hooker would be forced to follow. Not only because Lincoln had decided that the objective was the destruction of Lee's army, but because Hooker's army was obliged to defend Union territory when threatened. And by marching north, Lee could threaten not only Washington, but Baltimore and Philadelphia as well.
And too, there was the equally important objective of sickening Union public morale. As I've said before, the only way the Confederacy could win its independence is if the Union grew weary of the struggle. The spectacle of a Southern army strutting its funky stuff across Northern real estate, with the Union army sniffing impotently at its heels, would go a long way towards accomplishing that objective.
The germ of this idea had long been percolating in Lee's mind, and if you remember, he had tried it once before. Last year's invasion ended disastrously at Antietam, due to a lost set of orders. Presumably, this time, Lee had banned all cigar smoking for the duration of this campaign.
And so, on June 3rd, Lee's army began to slip away from its positions near Fredericksburg, and headed northwest. Thence, Lee intended to keep the mountains between him and the Federals until he wanted to engage them in battle. He tasked his cavalry commander J.E.B. Stuart with screening the Union forces from discovering his whereabouts.
This is where things began to go sideways. In war, nothing ever stays the same.
It's a typical story in American military history. Our armies tend to begin wars terribly unprepared. They don't stay that way, though, they learn. I said early on that the Confederacy enjoyed an early advantage in officer and NCO quality, insofar as they could immediately put their best men in key positions. That advantage had finally eroded. While the Union had not yet found a great overall commanding general, their soldiers were now hardened, experienced veterans, and many of their officers at brigade and lower were very good at their jobs. It's not that the Confederates had gotten any worse, it's that the Union had stepped up its game.
For the most part, Stuart's cavalry was able to screen the Union forces. But the Union cavalry under Pleasonton had learned its trade well, and were often able to pierce the Confederate screen and discern what Lee was up to, while Stuart wasn't often able to return the favor. The end result was that Hooker had a far better picture of Lee's disposition of forces than Lee had of Hooker.
It was more or less at this point that Lee made the first of a series of grievous errors. These errors were born of the fact that Lee was far too well-bred a gentleman to explain in exhaustive detail exactly what he wanted his subordinates to do.
He ordered Stuart to stop his screening operation, and move to the head of the Confederate column of forces. Left unspoken was that he meant for Stuart to resume the screen there, and that he should go there directly. Stuart was left with considerable freedom to interpret his orders.
And Stuart was a man with a flair for the dramatic.
Stuart mounted a daring, audacious series of raids on the Union rear, riding a great circuit around the entire Army of the Potomac. It was dashing, it was glorious, and it would make great waves in the papers.
Unfortunately ... it also left Lee blind. He was marching more or less Northward with no idea -- not even the remotest clue -- where the Union army was, or what it was doing.
And so it was, in the last week of June 1963, the Army of Northern Virginia was stumbling blindly through the Pennsylvania countryside, short of food, and short of shoes. Soon enough they'd find plenty of both.
They'd also find plenty of trouble.
... next fall there will be a great change in public opinion at the North. The Republicans will be destroyed & I think the friends of peace will become so strong that the next administration will go in on that basis.
-- General Robert E. Lee, April 19th
Lee's victory at Chancellorsville, while great, changed nothing. The Confederacy's one and only hope at this point was that the public in the Union become so sick of war that they will accept a peace that divides what was once held to be indivisible. When you ask why Lee would dare to invade a country so much larger and more populous than his own, this is one of the reasons. It is the only way to victory. There are, of course, several others.
Lee's immediate goal, of course, is supply. The Confederacy has but little to offer, and the Army of Northern Virginia is not the only army slowly starving in the field. The farms of Maryland and Pennsylvania, on the other hand, brim over with all manner of good things that a soldier can eat. And use. While Napoleon did say an army marches on its stomach, it also marches on its feet, and too many of those Southern feet had no shoes.
Also, while Lee was making mischief in Maryland, Hooker wouldn't be making mischief in Virginia. If Lee went north, Hooker would be forced to follow. Not only because Lincoln had decided that the objective was the destruction of Lee's army, but because Hooker's army was obliged to defend Union territory when threatened. And by marching north, Lee could threaten not only Washington, but Baltimore and Philadelphia as well.
And too, there was the equally important objective of sickening Union public morale. As I've said before, the only way the Confederacy could win its independence is if the Union grew weary of the struggle. The spectacle of a Southern army strutting its funky stuff across Northern real estate, with the Union army sniffing impotently at its heels, would go a long way towards accomplishing that objective.
The germ of this idea had long been percolating in Lee's mind, and if you remember, he had tried it once before. Last year's invasion ended disastrously at Antietam, due to a lost set of orders. Presumably, this time, Lee had banned all cigar smoking for the duration of this campaign.
And so, on June 3rd, Lee's army began to slip away from its positions near Fredericksburg, and headed northwest. Thence, Lee intended to keep the mountains between him and the Federals until he wanted to engage them in battle. He tasked his cavalry commander J.E.B. Stuart with screening the Union forces from discovering his whereabouts.
This is where things began to go sideways. In war, nothing ever stays the same.
It's a typical story in American military history. Our armies tend to begin wars terribly unprepared. They don't stay that way, though, they learn. I said early on that the Confederacy enjoyed an early advantage in officer and NCO quality, insofar as they could immediately put their best men in key positions. That advantage had finally eroded. While the Union had not yet found a great overall commanding general, their soldiers were now hardened, experienced veterans, and many of their officers at brigade and lower were very good at their jobs. It's not that the Confederates had gotten any worse, it's that the Union had stepped up its game.
For the most part, Stuart's cavalry was able to screen the Union forces. But the Union cavalry under Pleasonton had learned its trade well, and were often able to pierce the Confederate screen and discern what Lee was up to, while Stuart wasn't often able to return the favor. The end result was that Hooker had a far better picture of Lee's disposition of forces than Lee had of Hooker.
It was more or less at this point that Lee made the first of a series of grievous errors. These errors were born of the fact that Lee was far too well-bred a gentleman to explain in exhaustive detail exactly what he wanted his subordinates to do.
He ordered Stuart to stop his screening operation, and move to the head of the Confederate column of forces. Left unspoken was that he meant for Stuart to resume the screen there, and that he should go there directly. Stuart was left with considerable freedom to interpret his orders.
And Stuart was a man with a flair for the dramatic.
Stuart mounted a daring, audacious series of raids on the Union rear, riding a great circuit around the entire Army of the Potomac. It was dashing, it was glorious, and it would make great waves in the papers.
Unfortunately ... it also left Lee blind. He was marching more or less Northward with no idea -- not even the remotest clue -- where the Union army was, or what it was doing.
And so it was, in the last week of June 1963, the Army of Northern Virginia was stumbling blindly through the Pennsylvania countryside, short of food, and short of shoes. Soon enough they'd find plenty of both.
They'd also find plenty of trouble.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Video Del Fuego, Part LXI
When most of you see the name Saab, you think about cars. And that's natural enough, since there's probably a Saab dealership within driving distance. But cars weren't Saab's original product. The name is an acronym for Swedish Aeroplane Limited. Yes, the original Saab made jets. Cars were a side-line.
After World War II, Sweden took a good look around them. There was one alliance forming up to the west, and another to the east. They decided not to join either one of them. On the whole, they were friendlier with the West than with the East ... but they'd learned from hard experience what "guarantees" of safety and security could actually mean once the fat was in the fire. Sweden was, by God, going to be prepared to meet its fate, alone if need be. In part, this meant a commitment to build their own armaments, from guns to tanks to fighter planes.
The result? Some of the most beautiful aircraft that have ever flown.
The Saab J-35 Draken is a spectacular airplane. In aviation, so often form follows function, and if it looks right, it probably is right. And, oh yes, the Draken looks right.
When I look at this, I have a hard time believing this is a design that's a dozen years older than I am. Surely, something so clean, so streamlined, has to have come along later than 1955? What I don't have any trouble believing is that some of them are still flying.
That arm of Saab is still in business. After building the J-35 Draken, they built a follow-on fighter, the J-37 Viggen. Today, they're building the JAS-39 Gripen, which is in service with Sweden, the Czech Republic, Hungary, South Africa, Switzerland, and Thailand.
The interesting thing about the Gripen is that it can refuel and rearm with a pickup truck's worth of crew and tools. The Swedes really take austere basing seriously. Of course, they knew all along that in a real war, their airfields would have been smashed almost immediately ... they always expected to have to operate from remote highways.
As an engineer, I find it interesting how a different set of constraints and priorities evolve a different approach to solving the same problem. In the unlikely event that the F-35 falls through, I wonder if one of our prime contractors would be interested in offering the Marines a license-built Gripen?
Never happen, of course, but it's interesting to think about.
After World War II, Sweden took a good look around them. There was one alliance forming up to the west, and another to the east. They decided not to join either one of them. On the whole, they were friendlier with the West than with the East ... but they'd learned from hard experience what "guarantees" of safety and security could actually mean once the fat was in the fire. Sweden was, by God, going to be prepared to meet its fate, alone if need be. In part, this meant a commitment to build their own armaments, from guns to tanks to fighter planes.
The result? Some of the most beautiful aircraft that have ever flown.
The Saab J-35 Draken is a spectacular airplane. In aviation, so often form follows function, and if it looks right, it probably is right. And, oh yes, the Draken looks right.
When I look at this, I have a hard time believing this is a design that's a dozen years older than I am. Surely, something so clean, so streamlined, has to have come along later than 1955? What I don't have any trouble believing is that some of them are still flying.
That arm of Saab is still in business. After building the J-35 Draken, they built a follow-on fighter, the J-37 Viggen. Today, they're building the JAS-39 Gripen, which is in service with Sweden, the Czech Republic, Hungary, South Africa, Switzerland, and Thailand.
The interesting thing about the Gripen is that it can refuel and rearm with a pickup truck's worth of crew and tools. The Swedes really take austere basing seriously. Of course, they knew all along that in a real war, their airfields would have been smashed almost immediately ... they always expected to have to operate from remote highways.
As an engineer, I find it interesting how a different set of constraints and priorities evolve a different approach to solving the same problem. In the unlikely event that the F-35 falls through, I wonder if one of our prime contractors would be interested in offering the Marines a license-built Gripen?
Never happen, of course, but it's interesting to think about.
Friday, May 24, 2013
Memorial Day, 2013
(Mostly reposted from 2009)
From the Lay of Horatius, by Thomas Babington Macaulay:
But the Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall, and darkly at the foe.
"Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down,
And if once they might win the bridge, what hope to save the town?"
Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate:
"To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late;
And how can man die better than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods,
"And for the tender mother who dandled him to rest,
And for his wife who nurses his baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens who feed the eternal flame,
To save them from false Sextus, that wrought the deed of shame?
"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may!
I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopped by three,
Now, who will stand on either hand and keep the bridge with me?"
Then out spake Spurius Lartius; a Ramnian proud was he,
"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee."
And out spake strong Herminius, of Titian blood was he:
"I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee."
"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "As thou sayest, so let it be."
And straight against that great array, forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome's quarrel spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son, nor wife, nor limb, nor life, in the brave days of old.
We Americans celebrate three major patriotic holidays throughout the year. People tend to say the same things at each, forgetting sometimes that each one has its own character. On Veterans' Day, we celebrate the service of all of our veterans, honoring all who have taken their turn keeping the bridge. On Independence Day, we honor everyone, veterans and others, who have served our nation's institutions, faithfully bequeathing a legacy of freedom under law that, God willing, we will in turn bequeath to our children. But on Memorial Day, we specifically honor those who paid the ultimate price for our liberty.
Memorial Day is for Nathan Hale. It's for Sullivan Ballou. It's for Lloyd Williams, who led his Marines into that French forest that would be known forever afterward as the Bois de Brigade de Marine. It's for Rodger Young on New Georgia, Ernest Evans off the island of Samar, and Theodore Roosevelt Jr. on Utah Beach, each earning a Medal of Honor posthumously. And it's for Mel Apt, who was all too briefly the fastest man alive, until his X-2 went into an unrecoverable flat spin and hit the unforgiving desert floor.
Not many of us know that the Star-Spangled Banner has more than one verse. Francis Scott Key originally wrote four stanzas. The last one begins:
O, thus be it e'er when free men shall stand
Between their loved home, and the war's desolation!
The young men and women we have recently commissioned as Second Lieutenants and Ensigns have signed on to lead their comrades into making that stand, knowing full well what the cost might be. They have volunteered to stand their post upon that bridge, just as the Romans Horatius, Spurius Lartius, and Herminius did back in their day. Most of them will survive their experience. Macaulay tells us that all three survived the battle. But he also tells us that in some versions of the story, Horatius died holding the end of the bridge while his companions withdrew. Some of the young men and women we've commissioned this week will find that fate to be their own.
The task they leave to us is to honor their memory. We must never forget those things for which they gave their last full measure of devotion. We must remember their courage, their honor, their dignity. And we must teach our children to remember, to make these stories of bravery and sacrifice live for each new generation.
For as long as we remember them, they never truly die.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
From the Lay of Horatius, by Thomas Babington Macaulay:
But the Consul's brow was sad, and the Consul's speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall, and darkly at the foe.
"Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down,
And if once they might win the bridge, what hope to save the town?"
Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate:
"To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late;
And how can man die better than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods,
"And for the tender mother who dandled him to rest,
And for his wife who nurses his baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens who feed the eternal flame,
To save them from false Sextus, that wrought the deed of shame?
"Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may!
I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopped by three,
Now, who will stand on either hand and keep the bridge with me?"
Then out spake Spurius Lartius; a Ramnian proud was he,
"Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee."
And out spake strong Herminius, of Titian blood was he:
"I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee."
"Horatius," quoth the Consul, "As thou sayest, so let it be."
And straight against that great array, forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome's quarrel spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son, nor wife, nor limb, nor life, in the brave days of old.
We Americans celebrate three major patriotic holidays throughout the year. People tend to say the same things at each, forgetting sometimes that each one has its own character. On Veterans' Day, we celebrate the service of all of our veterans, honoring all who have taken their turn keeping the bridge. On Independence Day, we honor everyone, veterans and others, who have served our nation's institutions, faithfully bequeathing a legacy of freedom under law that, God willing, we will in turn bequeath to our children. But on Memorial Day, we specifically honor those who paid the ultimate price for our liberty.
Memorial Day is for Nathan Hale. It's for Sullivan Ballou. It's for Lloyd Williams, who led his Marines into that French forest that would be known forever afterward as the Bois de Brigade de Marine. It's for Rodger Young on New Georgia, Ernest Evans off the island of Samar, and Theodore Roosevelt Jr. on Utah Beach, each earning a Medal of Honor posthumously. And it's for Mel Apt, who was all too briefly the fastest man alive, until his X-2 went into an unrecoverable flat spin and hit the unforgiving desert floor.
Not many of us know that the Star-Spangled Banner has more than one verse. Francis Scott Key originally wrote four stanzas. The last one begins:
O, thus be it e'er when free men shall stand
Between their loved home, and the war's desolation!
The young men and women we have recently commissioned as Second Lieutenants and Ensigns have signed on to lead their comrades into making that stand, knowing full well what the cost might be. They have volunteered to stand their post upon that bridge, just as the Romans Horatius, Spurius Lartius, and Herminius did back in their day. Most of them will survive their experience. Macaulay tells us that all three survived the battle. But he also tells us that in some versions of the story, Horatius died holding the end of the bridge while his companions withdrew. Some of the young men and women we've commissioned this week will find that fate to be their own.
The task they leave to us is to honor their memory. We must never forget those things for which they gave their last full measure of devotion. We must remember their courage, their honor, their dignity. And we must teach our children to remember, to make these stories of bravery and sacrifice live for each new generation.
For as long as we remember them, they never truly die.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Video Del Fuego, Part LX
The Bogatyrs of Old Kiev are the heroes of the Russian myth cycle, in much the same way that the Knights of the Round Table were the heroes of the Arthurian legends, and the Peers of Charlemagne were the heroes of the Matter of France. And, as legendary heroes, it befits them that their stories should be told with reverence and majesty. Usually, that's been the case.
Then again, on the other hand, you have these guys.
I find it curious that the wife of one of these famous epic heroes is a journalist. But apparently, that's true to the source material.
There are other clips. Here, the Three Bogatyrs take on Super Mario:
And the Big Bad Wolf:
Wait ... was that last one out Kenny?
Anyway, they're worth a look. Weird, but funny.
Then again, on the other hand, you have these guys.
I find it curious that the wife of one of these famous epic heroes is a journalist. But apparently, that's true to the source material.
There are other clips. Here, the Three Bogatyrs take on Super Mario:
And the Big Bad Wolf:
Wait ... was that last one out Kenny?
Anyway, they're worth a look. Weird, but funny.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Sesquicentennial, Part XXV: Objectives
--FIRST -PREV NEXT-
In the West, we've seen that the Union Army had been working according to General Scott's Anaconda Plan, with the eventual goal of cutting the Confederacy in two, and removing its ability to trade abroad. Thus deprived of the means of modern war, the rebels would be forced to yield, eventually. It wasn't broadly trumpeted that this was their goal, but every movement made in the West since the very earliest days of the conflict could be predicted by anyone familiar with General Scott's plan. First they made sure the Union's own east-west lines of communication and supply were secure, then they began to work their way down the river valleys. It wasn't very hard to figure out.
In the East, the motto was "On to Richmond!" Except, that wasn't quite the goal Lincoln had in mind.
Oh, seizing the Rebel capital would be a fine thing to accomplish. If it proved practicable, Lincoln was all for it. But, as the months wore on, Lincoln came to the belief that in the East, the primary objective was the Army of Northern Virginia, and not any particular piece of geography. Lincoln figured that if he could remove that force from the board, the rest would sort itself out.
In a way, it was an example of a commander using the Indirect Approach: you don't go straight in at what you really want, you go by a roundabout way so your opponent has a harder time countering your moves. Except that the Union armies could march in such a way to threaten Richmond, because in that case, Lee would have no choice but to move to interpose.
And such were the instructions that President Lincoln gave to the commanding general of the Army of the Potomac in the Spring of 1863. Once again, he was giving these instructions to a new commanding general: Ambrose Burnside had been reassigned in the head-rolling that had taken place after the debacle at Fredericksburg last December. Joseph Hooker was the new top man, and for once he was a man with a plan. Another novelty: it wasn't a bad one.
Hooker drew up a campaign plan that, if it came off right, would trap the Army of Northern Virginia in a double-envelopment. Thus trapped, and surrounded by a superior force, the war in the East could then be ended by a battle of annihilation.
He would be helped by two main advantages. First, there had been a complete overhaul of the Bureau of Military Intelligence since McClellan's tenure. Allan Pinkerton was nowhere to be seen, nor were his absurd over-estimations of Confederate strength and deployment. Hooker was gifted with the most complete, and most accurate, assessment of the Army of Northern Virginia's organization and deployment that any Union commander before him had ever had. Basically, he knew where Lee was, and more or less what he was doing.
His other main advantage stems from the first, in a way: Hooker knew that his army was much larger than Lee's. And he intended to make use of that advantage.
He would detach his cavalry, under General Stoneman, to make a deep-penetration raid behind Lee. At the same time, he would detach three full Corps of infantry, nearly half his strength, to make a stealthy march down the Rappahannock, and cross over the river to surprise Lee from his rear.
It was with this plan of action that the Army of the Potomac set out in late April.
The early results were all that Hooker could have hoped for. Stoneman's cavalry were keeping the Confederate cavalry under Jeb Stuart busy, depriving Lee of accurate information about Hooker's deployments and line of march. Initial reports seemed to indicate that the Rappahannock force was able to cross more or less unopposed. Hooker now had full confidence that he would be able to proceed to Chancellorsville, as he intended. That was where he intended to make contact with Lee's army.
That would be the last thing that happened according to Hooker's plan.
There's a time for following the rules, and there's a time for breaking them. You spend the early part of your career hewing assiduously to the rules of your profession, because you don't know them yet well enough to know exactly why they're there. But once you attain a certain degree of mastery, you do understand the "why" behind them, and then you know when it makes sense -- when it's necessary -- to set them aside. Robert E. Lee had attained such a degree of mastery, and he was about to show why Winfield Scott had originally intended him as his replacement.
Lee found out, almost too late, what Hooker was intending to do. If he acted according to the book, keeping his whole force intact, there was no way he could react to two forced advancing from opposite directions. But Lee also knew that Hooker's cavalry division was occupied elsewhere, meaning that Hooker wouldn't necessarily be able to see what Lee was doing ... so Lee did the unthinkable. He divided his already-inferior force, detailing part of it to intercept and delay the Rappahannock force while he met Hooker's main body at Chancellorsville.
And so it was, on May 1, 1863, that part of the Army of Northern Virginia met part of the Army of the Potomac at Chancellorsville. The rest of them had a smaller-scale rematch of December's battle outside of Fredericksburg.
Much has been made of Hooker's alleged indecision, in ceding the initiative to Lee. I'm not sure it's fair to hang this entirely on Hooker. So far as he knew, all was still going according to plan. He had always intended to fight a static battle, and let Lee come to him. The plan was for the rest of his army to be the hammer to his anvil, trapping Lee in between. He had no way of knowing, just yet, that the hammer wasn't coming today, or tomorrow, or the next day. In any case, he had his men dig in, and wait for Lee's attack. It would come the next morning.
This is more or less when Lee would again do the doubly-unthinkable: having already divided his force once, he would do it again. He'd detach a force under his right-hand man Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, and send them around Hooker's weaker right flank, while the rest of Lee's army attacked from the front.
Ordinarily, there's no way this would have worked. But Jeb Stuart had disengaged from Stoneman, and was again available to conduct screening duty for Lee. Stuart's cavalry was able to keep the Union from seeing Jackson's preparations for a flanking attack long enough for the attack to come as a surprise.
It was a complete surprise. Enough of a surprise that had this been the Union Army of 1861, or even 1862, they might have broken and fled, like they did at Bull Run. But this was an experienced, hardened army of veterans. The flank bent, but it didn't break. Hooker's lines bowed back upon themselves, until both ends were anchored in the river, on either side of Chancellorsville.
Fighting recommenced all along the front outside of Chancellorsville early the next morning. The Union forces were doing fairly well, right up to the point where a Confederate shell struck a wooden pillar Hooker had been leaning against at his headquarters. Hooker was injured, but not seriously, but he had definitely had his bell rung. He didn't look hurt, but he was valiantly struggling to remember his name, rank, and serial number; to say nothing of trying to remember the situation at the front. Unfortunately, he didn't transfer command, nor did anyone take it. Without effective coordination, the Union troops were pushed out of Chancellorsville.
For what it's worth, the three Corps that had been detached to Fredericksburg actually managed to win the Second Battle of Fredericksburg, and were marching towards Chancellorsville ... but the anvil was rather worse for the wear. Hooker finally ordered a general withdrawal.
The loss was as stinging as it was unexpected: the fighting on the third of May was only surpassed by the Battle of Antietam, and still stands as the second bloodiest day in American military history. Lincoln is supposed to have cried, "My God! My God! What will the country say?" at the news of the defeat and the casualties. One outcome of the battle would be the second major command shake-up in the Army of the Potomac in six months. Hooker, Stoneman, and several other generals would be relieved, either immediately or eventually. But buried in all the bad news was one very important fact.
Hooker had achieved one very important goal. It was now far too late for Lee to do anything constructive about Vicksburg.
Grant's plan was working to perfection. He had made it down the opposite bank of the Mississippi, and was able to cross without interference below Vicksburg. Now, he had good land to march upon, and no significant opposition until he reached the defensive works outside of Vicksburg itself. He would attempt to carry the works by direct assault. When that didn't work, he'd settle down into a siege. With nothing going in or out, they'd have to ask for terms eventually. It would take some time for their supplies to run low, but Grant didn't really care.
Grant could afford to wait.
In the West, we've seen that the Union Army had been working according to General Scott's Anaconda Plan, with the eventual goal of cutting the Confederacy in two, and removing its ability to trade abroad. Thus deprived of the means of modern war, the rebels would be forced to yield, eventually. It wasn't broadly trumpeted that this was their goal, but every movement made in the West since the very earliest days of the conflict could be predicted by anyone familiar with General Scott's plan. First they made sure the Union's own east-west lines of communication and supply were secure, then they began to work their way down the river valleys. It wasn't very hard to figure out.
In the East, the motto was "On to Richmond!" Except, that wasn't quite the goal Lincoln had in mind.
Oh, seizing the Rebel capital would be a fine thing to accomplish. If it proved practicable, Lincoln was all for it. But, as the months wore on, Lincoln came to the belief that in the East, the primary objective was the Army of Northern Virginia, and not any particular piece of geography. Lincoln figured that if he could remove that force from the board, the rest would sort itself out.
In a way, it was an example of a commander using the Indirect Approach: you don't go straight in at what you really want, you go by a roundabout way so your opponent has a harder time countering your moves. Except that the Union armies could march in such a way to threaten Richmond, because in that case, Lee would have no choice but to move to interpose.
And such were the instructions that President Lincoln gave to the commanding general of the Army of the Potomac in the Spring of 1863. Once again, he was giving these instructions to a new commanding general: Ambrose Burnside had been reassigned in the head-rolling that had taken place after the debacle at Fredericksburg last December. Joseph Hooker was the new top man, and for once he was a man with a plan. Another novelty: it wasn't a bad one.
Hooker drew up a campaign plan that, if it came off right, would trap the Army of Northern Virginia in a double-envelopment. Thus trapped, and surrounded by a superior force, the war in the East could then be ended by a battle of annihilation.
He would be helped by two main advantages. First, there had been a complete overhaul of the Bureau of Military Intelligence since McClellan's tenure. Allan Pinkerton was nowhere to be seen, nor were his absurd over-estimations of Confederate strength and deployment. Hooker was gifted with the most complete, and most accurate, assessment of the Army of Northern Virginia's organization and deployment that any Union commander before him had ever had. Basically, he knew where Lee was, and more or less what he was doing.
His other main advantage stems from the first, in a way: Hooker knew that his army was much larger than Lee's. And he intended to make use of that advantage.
He would detach his cavalry, under General Stoneman, to make a deep-penetration raid behind Lee. At the same time, he would detach three full Corps of infantry, nearly half his strength, to make a stealthy march down the Rappahannock, and cross over the river to surprise Lee from his rear.
It was with this plan of action that the Army of the Potomac set out in late April.
The early results were all that Hooker could have hoped for. Stoneman's cavalry were keeping the Confederate cavalry under Jeb Stuart busy, depriving Lee of accurate information about Hooker's deployments and line of march. Initial reports seemed to indicate that the Rappahannock force was able to cross more or less unopposed. Hooker now had full confidence that he would be able to proceed to Chancellorsville, as he intended. That was where he intended to make contact with Lee's army.
That would be the last thing that happened according to Hooker's plan.
There's a time for following the rules, and there's a time for breaking them. You spend the early part of your career hewing assiduously to the rules of your profession, because you don't know them yet well enough to know exactly why they're there. But once you attain a certain degree of mastery, you do understand the "why" behind them, and then you know when it makes sense -- when it's necessary -- to set them aside. Robert E. Lee had attained such a degree of mastery, and he was about to show why Winfield Scott had originally intended him as his replacement.
Lee found out, almost too late, what Hooker was intending to do. If he acted according to the book, keeping his whole force intact, there was no way he could react to two forced advancing from opposite directions. But Lee also knew that Hooker's cavalry division was occupied elsewhere, meaning that Hooker wouldn't necessarily be able to see what Lee was doing ... so Lee did the unthinkable. He divided his already-inferior force, detailing part of it to intercept and delay the Rappahannock force while he met Hooker's main body at Chancellorsville.
And so it was, on May 1, 1863, that part of the Army of Northern Virginia met part of the Army of the Potomac at Chancellorsville. The rest of them had a smaller-scale rematch of December's battle outside of Fredericksburg.
Much has been made of Hooker's alleged indecision, in ceding the initiative to Lee. I'm not sure it's fair to hang this entirely on Hooker. So far as he knew, all was still going according to plan. He had always intended to fight a static battle, and let Lee come to him. The plan was for the rest of his army to be the hammer to his anvil, trapping Lee in between. He had no way of knowing, just yet, that the hammer wasn't coming today, or tomorrow, or the next day. In any case, he had his men dig in, and wait for Lee's attack. It would come the next morning.
This is more or less when Lee would again do the doubly-unthinkable: having already divided his force once, he would do it again. He'd detach a force under his right-hand man Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, and send them around Hooker's weaker right flank, while the rest of Lee's army attacked from the front.
Ordinarily, there's no way this would have worked. But Jeb Stuart had disengaged from Stoneman, and was again available to conduct screening duty for Lee. Stuart's cavalry was able to keep the Union from seeing Jackson's preparations for a flanking attack long enough for the attack to come as a surprise.
It was a complete surprise. Enough of a surprise that had this been the Union Army of 1861, or even 1862, they might have broken and fled, like they did at Bull Run. But this was an experienced, hardened army of veterans. The flank bent, but it didn't break. Hooker's lines bowed back upon themselves, until both ends were anchored in the river, on either side of Chancellorsville.
Fighting recommenced all along the front outside of Chancellorsville early the next morning. The Union forces were doing fairly well, right up to the point where a Confederate shell struck a wooden pillar Hooker had been leaning against at his headquarters. Hooker was injured, but not seriously, but he had definitely had his bell rung. He didn't look hurt, but he was valiantly struggling to remember his name, rank, and serial number; to say nothing of trying to remember the situation at the front. Unfortunately, he didn't transfer command, nor did anyone take it. Without effective coordination, the Union troops were pushed out of Chancellorsville.
For what it's worth, the three Corps that had been detached to Fredericksburg actually managed to win the Second Battle of Fredericksburg, and were marching towards Chancellorsville ... but the anvil was rather worse for the wear. Hooker finally ordered a general withdrawal.
The loss was as stinging as it was unexpected: the fighting on the third of May was only surpassed by the Battle of Antietam, and still stands as the second bloodiest day in American military history. Lincoln is supposed to have cried, "My God! My God! What will the country say?" at the news of the defeat and the casualties. One outcome of the battle would be the second major command shake-up in the Army of the Potomac in six months. Hooker, Stoneman, and several other generals would be relieved, either immediately or eventually. But buried in all the bad news was one very important fact.
Hooker had achieved one very important goal. It was now far too late for Lee to do anything constructive about Vicksburg.
Grant's plan was working to perfection. He had made it down the opposite bank of the Mississippi, and was able to cross without interference below Vicksburg. Now, he had good land to march upon, and no significant opposition until he reached the defensive works outside of Vicksburg itself. He would attempt to carry the works by direct assault. When that didn't work, he'd settle down into a siege. With nothing going in or out, they'd have to ask for terms eventually. It would take some time for their supplies to run low, but Grant didn't really care.
Grant could afford to wait.
Friday, May 03, 2013
End of Carbon: A Herculean Effort
Every once in a while, I revisit the topic of the end of fossil fuels. The basic point hasn't changed much: while we need to get off of fossil fuels, we have to face up to the fact that if we do, we face an enormous energy shortfall. That is, unless we've taken the steps needed to get ready. Ordinarily I have an aversion to repeating myself. But in this case I make an exception. For one, it's a very important point, one that's glossed over far too often. For another, I like to look at the most recent data available.
And when I went to look for the most recent data available, I made an important discovery. There's actually a government office whose job it is to keep track of this stuff. Who knew? The U.S. Energy Information Administration, among other things, keeps a summary of American energy production and usage here. The data for 2011 is shown below:
Wow, that's much easier to read than the others I've seen.
First, there are some general points to make. When we're talking about oil, we're mostly talking about transportation. By a large margin (71%), our oil usage involves moving people and things from Point A to Point B. Natural gas is a utility player, about a third each going to electricity, homes, and industry. And coal is predominantly (92%) used for generation of electricity. If we want to get off of fossil fuels entirely, we need to replace that watt-for-watt with something else, most likely in the form of electricity, generated at a power plant and then delivered to the customer.
As I've said before, the biggest problem here is that you lose an enormous amount of energy in transmission. The rule of thumb is that you have to generate three watts of power at the plant to realize one watt at the wall outlet. There aren't many good ways to get around Joule heating.
So: in 2011 we generated a total of 97.2 quadrillion BTUs. Of that, 79.8 quads came from carbon-based sources. If we had to replace 79.8 quads at three-for-one, we'd need to generate a grand total of 256.8 quadrillion BTUs of power. Which means, we'd be generating about three times as much power as we do today. Or more to the point, we'd have to generate 15 times as much non-carbon power as we did in 2011.
It's actually not quite as bad as all that. There are two things that can work in our favor. First, some kinds of clean power we can locate at the point of use: solar panels, for example. In those cases, we can eliminate the transmission penalty. That won't cover every possible case, but it'll make enough of a difference to move the needle a little. Let's assume it's possible 25% of the time. In that case, we'd need to generate 216.9 quads, bringing our extra power required down to a multiple of 12.5 from 15.
The other possibility is more speculative, but could have far-reaching possibilities. I've mentioned superconducting power lines before. It'll be a long time before they're possible, if they're ever possible, but they're worth looking into. The reason should be obvious. Joule heating scales with the product of the resistance and the square of the current. If the resistance is zero, the Joule heating is also zero.
That's huge. This way, the 39.3 quads of electrical power generated actually is 39.3 quads, rather than the 13.1 that's actually delivered, knocking 26.2 quads off of the deliverable power we need to generate.
That means we'd only have to come up with 53.6 quads of non-carbon power, or about 3/4 of what we'd have to come up with otherwise. That's a much, much easier prospect. Superconductor technology is worth every last penny that we can spend on it.
The question then becomes, with what can we replace oil, coal, and natural gas? That hasn't changed since the last time(s) I've written about this, but I'll recap anyway.
1) Solar power. Every environmentalist's go-to favorite, but not necessarily your go-to source for steady, reliable, day-to-day base load. It's a good answer for homeowners, especially homeowners in the South and Southwest, who get plenty of sunny days. There's poetic justice in using the Sun's rays to power the air conditioners that fight back against the Sun's heat. But, I really don't see photoelectric power running steel furnaces. It's a matter of scale.
2) Wind power. The second favorite of environmentalists everywhere. There's a lot of power to be extracted from wind, and if you've got it you may as well use it. There's a potential problem to be aware of, though; if you extract too much energy from the wind, you'll alter the climate without intending to. And we don't know yet how much is too much.
3) Tidal, geothermal, hydroelectric power. While useful, these are very dependent upon local conditions. Such as, having a coastline, or a big river, or local hot spot. But if you've got it you may as well use it. Waste not, want not.
4) Nuclear power. As much as environmentalists everywhere hate this particular N-word, there's no way around it: if we're truly serious about getting off of carbon, we have to make more use of atomic power. For all its problems, it provides large amounts of reliable base-load power. And when you look at the statistics on deaths per terawatt-hour, summarized here, nuclear power isn't nearly as dangerous as its foes claim. There are problems that must be dealt with, but those are problems of engineering, not of science. We could do this now, if we had the will. We could be off carbon in a decade. The question is, do you really want it?
5) Fusion power. It's the eternal dream -- the vast amounts of power of fission, but without the noisome radioactive waste. The problem is, we're not entirely sure how to do this yet. The interim results from the WB-8 unit are encouraging, to the extent that we've heard about them. The work is proceeding slower than hoped, but it's still proceeding. And Polywell was never the only game in town. Sooner or later, someone's cracking that nut, and with it, they crack the energy problem essentially forever. Just about everything you can see in the night sky is hydrogen. The most abundant element in the entire Universe is something we're very unlikely to run short of.
As I've said before, it's important not to delude ourselves: this is a huge task. But not an insurmountable one. If we get started soon enough, we'll have the tools we need, when we need them.
But we don't have forever. It's about time we got started.
And when I went to look for the most recent data available, I made an important discovery. There's actually a government office whose job it is to keep track of this stuff. Who knew? The U.S. Energy Information Administration, among other things, keeps a summary of American energy production and usage here. The data for 2011 is shown below:
Wow, that's much easier to read than the others I've seen.
First, there are some general points to make. When we're talking about oil, we're mostly talking about transportation. By a large margin (71%), our oil usage involves moving people and things from Point A to Point B. Natural gas is a utility player, about a third each going to electricity, homes, and industry. And coal is predominantly (92%) used for generation of electricity. If we want to get off of fossil fuels entirely, we need to replace that watt-for-watt with something else, most likely in the form of electricity, generated at a power plant and then delivered to the customer.
As I've said before, the biggest problem here is that you lose an enormous amount of energy in transmission. The rule of thumb is that you have to generate three watts of power at the plant to realize one watt at the wall outlet. There aren't many good ways to get around Joule heating.
So: in 2011 we generated a total of 97.2 quadrillion BTUs. Of that, 79.8 quads came from carbon-based sources. If we had to replace 79.8 quads at three-for-one, we'd need to generate a grand total of 256.8 quadrillion BTUs of power. Which means, we'd be generating about three times as much power as we do today. Or more to the point, we'd have to generate 15 times as much non-carbon power as we did in 2011.
It's actually not quite as bad as all that. There are two things that can work in our favor. First, some kinds of clean power we can locate at the point of use: solar panels, for example. In those cases, we can eliminate the transmission penalty. That won't cover every possible case, but it'll make enough of a difference to move the needle a little. Let's assume it's possible 25% of the time. In that case, we'd need to generate 216.9 quads, bringing our extra power required down to a multiple of 12.5 from 15.
The other possibility is more speculative, but could have far-reaching possibilities. I've mentioned superconducting power lines before. It'll be a long time before they're possible, if they're ever possible, but they're worth looking into. The reason should be obvious. Joule heating scales with the product of the resistance and the square of the current. If the resistance is zero, the Joule heating is also zero.
That's huge. This way, the 39.3 quads of electrical power generated actually is 39.3 quads, rather than the 13.1 that's actually delivered, knocking 26.2 quads off of the deliverable power we need to generate.
That means we'd only have to come up with 53.6 quads of non-carbon power, or about 3/4 of what we'd have to come up with otherwise. That's a much, much easier prospect. Superconductor technology is worth every last penny that we can spend on it.
The question then becomes, with what can we replace oil, coal, and natural gas? That hasn't changed since the last time(s) I've written about this, but I'll recap anyway.
1) Solar power. Every environmentalist's go-to favorite, but not necessarily your go-to source for steady, reliable, day-to-day base load. It's a good answer for homeowners, especially homeowners in the South and Southwest, who get plenty of sunny days. There's poetic justice in using the Sun's rays to power the air conditioners that fight back against the Sun's heat. But, I really don't see photoelectric power running steel furnaces. It's a matter of scale.
2) Wind power. The second favorite of environmentalists everywhere. There's a lot of power to be extracted from wind, and if you've got it you may as well use it. There's a potential problem to be aware of, though; if you extract too much energy from the wind, you'll alter the climate without intending to. And we don't know yet how much is too much.
3) Tidal, geothermal, hydroelectric power. While useful, these are very dependent upon local conditions. Such as, having a coastline, or a big river, or local hot spot. But if you've got it you may as well use it. Waste not, want not.
4) Nuclear power. As much as environmentalists everywhere hate this particular N-word, there's no way around it: if we're truly serious about getting off of carbon, we have to make more use of atomic power. For all its problems, it provides large amounts of reliable base-load power. And when you look at the statistics on deaths per terawatt-hour, summarized here, nuclear power isn't nearly as dangerous as its foes claim. There are problems that must be dealt with, but those are problems of engineering, not of science. We could do this now, if we had the will. We could be off carbon in a decade. The question is, do you really want it?
5) Fusion power. It's the eternal dream -- the vast amounts of power of fission, but without the noisome radioactive waste. The problem is, we're not entirely sure how to do this yet. The interim results from the WB-8 unit are encouraging, to the extent that we've heard about them. The work is proceeding slower than hoped, but it's still proceeding. And Polywell was never the only game in town. Sooner or later, someone's cracking that nut, and with it, they crack the energy problem essentially forever. Just about everything you can see in the night sky is hydrogen. The most abundant element in the entire Universe is something we're very unlikely to run short of.
As I've said before, it's important not to delude ourselves: this is a huge task. But not an insurmountable one. If we get started soon enough, we'll have the tools we need, when we need them.
But we don't have forever. It's about time we got started.
Friday, April 26, 2013
More About Friction
This item from Fair and Unbalanced knocked a stray thought loose that's been bouncing around for a while. Don't ask me how I got from Fred Flintstone to the Flash, because for the life of me I can't remember. But I do remember the basic question: what's the theoretical maximum speed a human could run?
We'll have to consider that two different ways: with and without cleats.
It's easy enough in principle to find the maximum speed of anything that has to move through the air. When the force pushing you forward is equal to the drag force exerted by the air surrounding you, you're not going to get any faster. So, we need to find the drag force:
Drag = 0.5 * (rho) * (v) * (v) * (CdS)
where rho is the density of air, v is the velocity, and CdS is the drag coefficient (Cd) times the surface area (S). It's wickedly hard to measure them for something like a running person, so we leave them lumped together. For that matter, how do we even find it? We can make an educated guess, by comparing a running dude to a falling one ... not a perfect analogy, but I know where I can look up terminal velocity. We can set the falling person's weight equal to the drag force, and then solve for CdS.
Drag = 180 lbs.
rho = 0.002377 slugs/ft^3
v = 175 ft/s
Solving for CdS gives 4.8893 ft^2.
(Incidentally: slugs are the English system's unit for mass. One slug of steel held in your hand would weigh 32.174 pounds, give or take.)
This gets us almost to the point where we can figure out the maximum speed. Now we need to figure out how a runner exerts force upon the ground. Which is why we need to split it into cases with and without cleats: with cleats, you get the added force from jabbing metal stakes into the ground, otherwise you're just relying on good old friction.
Without Cleats: The coefficient of friction between rubber and dry concrete is 0.85. This means that a 180-pound runner can only exert 153 pounds of force sideways upon the ground before he will begin to skid. Now, that lets us set up the drag equation again, and solve for v:
Drag = 153 lbs.
rho = 0.002377 slugs/ft^3
CdS = 4.8893 ft^2
Solving for v gives us 162.26 ft/s, or 110.63 miles per hour.
With Cleats: Here, the limiting factor isn't friction, it's the point where the cleats will snap off. We're going to assume "ideal" cleats here, which is to say that the cleats stick into the ground without tearing the surface. It has the dual virtue of both giving us the most beneficial possible conditions, as well as simplifying the problem. That's because now, all we have to worry about is steel's strength in shear. That's 50,000 pounds per square inch. Now, let's assume six spikes per shoe, with the spikes being 1/20 inch thick; that gives a cross-sectional area of 0.0118 square inches. In order to cause the spikes to fail in shear, you'd have to apply 589 pounds of force. This would be the maximum drag force. We can put that in the above equation, and solve for v:
Drag = 589 lbs.
rho = 0.002377 slugs/ft^3
CdS = 4.8893 ft^2
Solving for v gives us 318.38 ft/s, or 217 miles per hour.
Some interesting conclusions follow:
1) Since we know the Flash can run much, much faster than that, the obvious implication is that he's not using friction to keep his feet on the ground ... or whatever surface he's running across. (I tried to find a picture of Flash running up the side of a building. I know I've seen it. But when you Google "Flash running up the side of a building", you ... well, don't do that. Or if you do, don't come crying to me trying to unsee what you've seen.)
2) Steve Austin running 60 miles per hour? Totally possible, provided you have atomic-powered artificial legs.
3) Track and field world records have a long, long way to go. We'll probably reach human bio-mechanical limits before we even get close to the theoretical ones.
And with that, I'm gonna lace up my running shoes. I've got some work to do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
