{"product_id":"nothing-but-victory-isbn-9780375726606","title":"Nothing but Victory","description":"Composed almost entirely of Midwesterners and molded into a lean, skilled fighting machine by Ulysses S. Grant and William Tecumseh Sherman, the Army of the Tennessee marched directly into the heart of the Confederacy and won major victories at Shiloh and at the rebel strongholds of Vicksburg and Atlanta.Acclaimed historian Steven Woodworth has produced the first full consideration of this remarkable unit that has received less prestige than the  famed Army of the Potomac but was responsible for the decisive victories that turned the tide of war toward the Union. The Army of the Tennessee also shaped the fortunes and futures of both Grant and Sherman, liberating them from civilian life and catapulting them onto the national stage as their triumphs grew. A thrilling account of how a cohesive fighting force is forged by the heat of battle and how a confidence born of repeated success could lead soldiers to expect “nothing but victory.”“Truly impressive. . . . Woodworth has described with clarity and vigor the tactical actions in such battles as Shiloh, Champion Hill and Atlanta.” –\u003ci\u003eThe New York Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e“Impressive. . . .To learn about the Civil War in the Western Theater through the service of its principal Union army, this is the book to read.” –\u003ci\u003eThe Charleston Post and Courier\u003c\/i\u003e“The best one-volume history written to date of a Civil War field army. . . . Combines] impeccable scholarship and comfortable style.” –\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Exhaustively researched and compellingly readable. . . . Stunning. . . . A resounding success..”–\u003ci\u003eBoston Edge\u003c\/i\u003eSteven Woodworth is professor of history at Texas Christian University.Grant’s Army  \u003cbr\u003eChapter One\u003cbr\u003eRaising an Army\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \"Red snow fell near Iowa City,” reported the Des Moines Sunday Register   on March 5, 1861. Editor George Mills hastened to explain that the   color was caused by fine flakes of reddish clay mixed with the   precipitation. Wind had swept dust into the atmosphere far to the west,   providing the residents of eastern Iowa with a bit of unusual   late-winter color. It was a simple scientific explanation, easily   understood by modern Americans in this enlightened second half of the   nineteenth century. Yet as editor Mills observed, many Iowans could   hardly help wondering whether the eerie reddish cast of their normally   snow-whitened plains was not some vague but appalling portent of   terrible things to come. It may well have occurred to some Hawkeyes   that the next winter’s snows might be reddened by the bloodshed of   civil strife. Americans elsewhere would have asked themselves the same   question.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    On the same day the red snow fell in Iowa, Abraham Lincoln took the   oath of office as president of a country that was tearing itself apart.   The issue of slavery had festered between North and South for two   generations, and for many people in Iowa, as in the other Midwestern   states, the tension in Washington, D.C., was a matter of great concern.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    In response to Lincoln’s election, on December 20, 1860, South Carolina   declared itself no longer a part of the United States. On January 9,   Mississippi followed. Florida went on January 10, and the next day it   was Alabama. Other Deep South states followed throughout the month. On   February 1, Texas became the seventh state to declare itself out of the   Union. Later that month, representatives of the rebellious states met   in Montgomery, Alabama, organized a government, styled themselves “the   Confederate States of America,” and elected Jefferson Davis of   Mississippi as their president. By March 4, when Lincoln was   inaugurated and the red snow fell in Iowa, the dismemberment of the   world’s only great republic and the establishment of a slaveholders’   regime in the Deep South seemed to be faits accomplis.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Throughout the winter, the fire-eaters in the Southern states had   spoken of seceding peacefully if possible, violently if necessary, and   Southern military preparations had gone on apace. Northerners watched   uneasily. The news they read daily in the papers seemed no more   credible than the freak of nature that had brought red-tinged snow to   Iowa City on the day of Lincoln’s inauguration.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Here and there across the North, men began to think of making military   preparations of their own. Some towns organized volunteer companies. In   January, brothers and coeditors of the Cedar Falls Gazette, Henry and   George Perkins, began encouraging the formation of such a group in   their Iowa town. “We have the material here from which to form a ‘crack   corps,’ which, if properly organized and equipped, would be of great   advantage to us on our gala days and public occasions,” opined the   Gazette, “and who knows but in these troublesome times might be the   means of preserving the country from ruin and give some of the members   an opportunity to cover themselves with immortal glory.” By the   following month, forty men had formed themselves into the “Pioneer   Greys,” so named after the common color of militia uniforms at the   time. They drilled diligently and were soon gaining additional   recruits. Similar companies sprang up elsewhere. Peoria, Illinois, had   four: the Peoria Guards, Peoria Rifles, Emmett Guards, and National   Blues.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Like the first jarring peal of a prairie thunderstorm came the news in   mid-April that Confederate forces ringing the harbor of Charleston,   South Carolina, had opened fire on the United States flag and garrison   at Fort Sumter in the predawn hours of April 12. Thirty-four hours   later, the fort surrendered. On April 15, President Lincoln, following   the example of George Washington in the days of the Whiskey Rebellion,   called upon the states to provide militia for ninety days of Federal   service—75,000 of them—in order to put down the rebellion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    All across the North, thousands of men scarcely waited for Lincoln’s   call for troops. John L. Maxwell was behind the plow preparing his   fields for spring planting when he heard the news of Fort Sumter. He   put away the plow and horses, and set out for nearby Canton, Illinois,   to join what was to become Company H of the 17th Illinois Regiment.   George O. Smith was a student in the city schools of Monmouth,   Illinois. Within the week, he had enlisted and, with several other   youths, was eagerly working to organize a company. They too would end   up in the 17th Illinois. Nearby Peoria, where the 17th would muster,   got the news of Fort Sumter on April 13 and went into an uproar. Flags   appeared all over town, including at the armories of Peoria’s four   volunteer companies, now busily preparing to take the field. The   enrollment of additional troops began that very evening.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    On April 15 in the Illinois capital, the Springfield Grays, who had the   advantage of proximity, became the first company to formally offer its   services to the state. The company became part of the state’s first   regiment for the war, numbered the 7th Illinois out of respect for the   six state regiments that had served in the Mexican War. Within nine   days, the Springfield Grays had been joined by companies from all over   the state in an encampment named Camp Yates in honor of Illinois’s   governor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Enthusiasm ran high. Chicago seethed with outrage at the Confederate   attack. Thousands of men volunteered to go and fight for the Union.   Among them were the Highland Guards, a company of ethnic Scots, making   a striking appearance in their Scottish caps. Their captain, John   McArthur, a thirty-four-year-old Scottish-born blacksmith and   successful proprietor of Chicago’s Excelsior Ironworks, won election as   colonel of the 12th Illinois Regiment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Also joining the 12th Illinois was a company from the lead-mining town   of Galena, in the far northwest corner of the state. The citizens of   Galena held a mass meeting on April 16 to discuss news of the Southern   attack. Mayor Robert Brand presided but promptly set the assembly in an   uproar when he “gave expression to antiwar sentiments and favored   compromise and peace,” as an eyewitness recalled. When the tumult   subsided, a succession of more patriotic citizens made impassioned   speeches pleading for manly resistance to Southern aggression. One of   the speakers was a consumptive-looking lawyer named John A. Rawlins.   Another was local U.S. congressman Elihu B. Washburne, who concluded by   exhorting his fellow citizens to raise two companies of volunteers for   the war. “The meeting adjourned with the wildest enthusiasm and cheers   for the Union.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Two days later, an even larger meeting convened at the courthouse in   Galena, this time explicitly for the purpose of raising troops.   Washburne suggested that the appropriate chairman for this meeting   would be a quiet-spoken local leather-goods clerk who was a genuine   West Point graduate and veteran of the Mexican War. Ulysses S.   Grant—“Sam” to his friends—had made captain in the Regular Army but had   had to leave the service in the early fifties because of an incident   with alcohol. He had certainly seemed sober and reliable enough during   the eighteen months he had lived in Galena, clerking at his father’s   leather-goods store. The assembly elected him to the chair, which Grant   took over with some embarrassment and a brief statement of the   meeting’s purpose. No matter—Washburne and Rawlins could make the fiery   speeches. Wealthy Galena businessman Augustus L. Chetlain chimed in,   stating his own intention of going as a volunteer. A number of others   stepped forward for military service that night, and in the days that   followed, Grant, Chetlain, and the others canvassed the nearby towns of   Jo Daviess County for more recruits. They soon had a full company,   named it the Jo Daviess Guard, offered it to Gov. Richard Yates, and   got orders to head for Springfield. Grant declined to serve as captain   of the company. If an officer of his training and experience was of any   value at all to the country, it ought to be at a higher rank. Chetlain   got the slot instead, but Grant went along to Springfield to assist the   company as it became part of a regimental organization.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    War meetings like the one in Galena were common all across the Prairie   State and its neighbors. In Ottawa, Illinois, a similar meeting   resolved “that we will stand by the flag of our country in this her   most trying hour, cost what it may of blood or treasure,” and likewise   determined to raise troops. The first company filled up in a single   day. Others followed, including one company composed entirely of men   over the age of forty-five and led by a captain who had served with   Winfield Scott at Lundy’s Lane during the War of 1812. To their dismay,   however, they discovered that the government was not accepting enlisted   recruits who were over the age of forty-five.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    News of Fort Sumter reached Frankfort, Indiana, late on the afternoon   of April 13, 1861. In the Clinton County courthouse, lawyer Lewis “Lew”   Wallace was addressing a jury. The town’s telegraph operator entered   and told the judge he had a telegram for Wallace. It was from Wallace’s   friend, Indiana governor Oliver P. Morton, and read: “Sumter has been   fired on. Come immediately.” With the judge’s permission, Wallace   excused himself to the jury and left the case to his law partner. Then   he mounted his horse and rode hard the ten miles to Colfax, where he   could catch a train to Indianapolis that night. Son of a former   governor of the state, Wallace had served as a second lieutenant in the   Mexican War and in 1856 organized a militia company called the   Montgomery (County) Guards. Now Govenor Morton made Wallace Indiana’s   state adjutant general for the purpose of supervising the raising of   troops.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Within days, Lincoln’s call for troops arrived, requesting six   regiments from Indiana. Wallace asked if he could become colonel of one   of the new regiments, and Morton agreed. Before the week was out,   Wallace reported to Morton some 130 companies at Camp Morton, near   Indianapolis. That was 70 more than the number required by Lincoln’s   call. As was even then being done in Illinois, Morton and Wallace   decided that Indiana’s regiments should begin numbering where they left   off in the Mexican War, so the first Indiana regiment for the Civil War   was the 6th. Wallace carefully selected the ten companies he liked best   for his own regiment, the 11th.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Even out in Iowa, beyond the Mississippi River, news arrived and people   reacted so quickly as to be ahead of Lincoln’s call for troops. In   Keosauqua, on the Des Moines River in the southeastern part of the   state, citizens suspended their ordinary business and stood around in   clusters, discussing the news. They had already scheduled a war meeting   by the time word of Lincoln’s call arrived, so they used the gathering   to discuss the raising of a local company. On that much they agreed,   but they disagreed on what kind of company to raise. Some were for   raising a “foot company,” others a “horse company,” and still others   preferred service in a “cannon company.” Someone called for a word from   Van Buren County recorder John M. Tuttle, and that official, who farmed   and kept a store in addition to his official duties, referred to the   issue in dispute as involving “infantry,” “cavalry,” and “artillery,”   and gave his opinion in favor of infantry. The townsmen were so   impressed with his military knowledge that they agreed to raise a   company of infantry and elected Tuttle to command it. Years later   Tuttle admitted that “in giving these definitions I went almost to the   limit of my military knowledge.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    And so men flocked to the colors all across the Midwest, green as the   late-April grass on the prairies and led by lawyers, clerks, and petty   officials, but filled with enthusiasm and a deep determination to do   their duty. They came in such numbers that the states quickly exceeded   their recruiting quotas. The problem for many of the newly raised   companies was gaining acceptance into the service. Some companies had   to disband, at least for the time being, but most were eventually   mustered into service. Some Illinois companies, like the Peoria Zouave   Cadets, did so by crossing into Missouri and enlisting there as part of   the 8th Missouri Regiment. As a border slave state, Missouri held   divided loyalties. Many Missouri men would eventually enlist with the   Confederacy, and thus the state would have had some difficulty   fulfilling its U.S. recruiting quota if not for the influx of   Illinoisans and others eager for a place in the ranks of any Union   regiment that would take them. The 13th Missouri included one company   from Illinois, six from Ohio, and only three from Missouri. The 9th   Missouri Regiment included almost no Missourians at all—just   Illinoisans.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The Illinois legislature, foreseeing the nation’s need of more troops,   authorized the state to raise an additional ten regiments—one from each   congressional district—beyond the six of Lincoln’s original request.   These regiments, the 13th through the 21st Illinois, were filled almost   at once. The state undertook to pay these 10,000 extra levies until the   federal government realized its need for them. In like manner,   Indiana’s redoubtable Governor Morton authorized additional regiments   to be sworn into state service as “the Indiana Legion,” pending another   call from the president.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    The extra regiments, as well as the other companies clamoring for   acceptance into Federal service in Ohio, Wisconsin, and Iowa, did not   have long to wait. Lincoln and his advisors in Washington soon   recognized the need for more troops than the initial 75,000 and for   longer terms than the original ninety-day enlistments. Early in the   summer, the president called for additional troops to serve for three   years. After the Union debacle at the first Battle of Bull Run in July   1861, Lincoln issued a call for 500,000 three-year volunteers. With   that, there was plenty of opportunity for everyone who wanted to be a   soldier, and the states turned down no more companies, provided they   had the requisite number of enlisted men. Officers, though usually   devoid of training or experience, were never in short supply.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Indeed, the supply of would-be officers sometimes outstripped that of   men prepared to follow them. The result was a bizarre competition for   recruits. The man who successfully recruited a company would get a   captain’s commission, so the race was on to raise the enlistments of   the necessary eighty-four privates. Whereas companies during the first   few weeks of the war had tended to be overstrength, aspiring captains   were so numerous by late summer that many struggled to reach the   requisite minimum enrollment for their companies.","brand":"Vintage","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303514919141,"sku":"NP9780375726606","price":30.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780375726606.jpg?v=1767733923","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/nothing-but-victory-isbn-9780375726606","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}