Jasper County Democrat, Volume 19, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 May 1916 — DENIES THAT GENERAL GRANT WAS UNFEELING [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

DENIES THAT GENERAL GRANT WAS UNFEELING

One Who Knew the “Silent Man” Well Tells of Instances That Prove Rumor’s Falsity. GRANT did not select the Wilderness as the Scene of his first engagement; he was compelled to take it, writes Samuel H. Beckwith, chief cipher operator to General Grant, 1862-65. But he was not caught unawares, as some unfriendly writers have argued. We well knew that the ‘ Johnnies” were somewhere before us, ready to oppose brisk defense to our forward movement, and every possible precaution was taken to protect our troops against surprise. When the fight started we were prepared for them, so far as an army could be prepared for the struggle upon such a field. ‘

During the first day’s engagement General Grant was not idle. He wanted to learn first-hand what was going on about him. A personal inspection, therefore, was necessary, and Cincinnati, that magnificent war horse, was drafted into service. There have been many horses that have gained conspicuous places in equine history, but this noble animal deserves place among the best. He was a chestnut gelding of rare mettle, and when in action upon a smoke-covered field he certainly was an object of admiration. I was the general’s only companion on that ride, and for one excellent reason, among others, my mount could keep pace with his. There were a few moments during the ride in which I was reasonably sure that our time had come. As we penetrated a thicket of dwarf pine and emerged into a small clearing a line of Federal troops groping their way along clashed, in our immediate front, with a detachment of Confederates who were pushing through the tangle of wood. A fusillade of bullets was the result, and several sang an ominous song about our heads. We reined up, and then, as our men drove the enemy back to cover, he continued on his way with this comment:

“When our time comes, Beckwith, well go, and not before. There’s no use trying to avoid it.” And avoid it he did not. UNDISMAYED BY TIDINGS. As was inevitable under such conditions as prevailed in the Wilderness, reports of the vicissitudes of the engagement were numerous and conflicting. To headquarters, where Grant awaited the outcome of the second day’s fight, came courier after courier bringing news of the progress of the. contest from various portions of the field. Some of these were alarmingly incorrect. But the evil tidings didn’t disturb the silent Grant. Several times during the night I visited his tent to receive or deliver messages, and found him apparently unmoved by the direful rumors. He had done all that any commander could do to insure victory; the result was with Providence. Even with some of these disquieting tales unrefuted, he retired to his cot to snatch ia much-needed rest, the least ruffled of the group about headquarters.

The morning of the 7th broke upon a battlefield strewn with the wreckage of terrible fighting, but the two formidable opponents had finished writing into history the Battle of the Wilderness. The forces of Lee had retired behind their intrenchments; the Federal troops were unwilling to attack them so protected. . Orders were issued late in the afternoon for a night march of the entire army toward Spottsylvania. Early in the evening the lieutenant-general and Meade with their staffs started out upon the way. When we reached Hancock’s corps, the brave fellows were lying behind their works most of them asleep, and we picked our steps carefully along in the darkness to safeguard the recumbent soldiers. Grant sought a brief interview with General Hancock and the twain crawled into an ambulance wagon arid held converse for some time. I had been riding close behind my superior and now 1 dismounted and threw my bridle rein across the limb of a fallen tree nearby, while I flung myself down upon a pile of brush to await the reappearance of general. I was pretty well fagged out and a few moments rest was most welcome.

It wasn’t long before the boys sensed the presence of Grant, and although orders had been given to refrain from cheering, owing to the proximity of the enemy, when they learned that he was facing southward, they sprang to their feet and the rocks and woods sent back the echo of their boisterous shouts. Some rather harsh criticism has been directed at General Grant for the tremendous sacrifice of life in the Wilderness campaign, and his alleged callousness at the wholesale slaughter of his men.

STOICISM OF GREAT CAPTAIN. Let me, who was his constant companion durjng three years of the Civil war, bear testimony to his possession of a genuine humanity and manly sympathy. His whs a most peculiar nature. Where others would fret and grieve, manifesting their anxiety in words and actions, he preserved a stern silence. But I am certain he felt as keenly and deeply the barb of misfortune and sorrow as did those about him. During the bloody days of relentless attack and stubborn defense in the spring of 1864 I noticed an almost indefinable sadness in Grant, a sort of moody reticence, that convinced me, who understood the man, that he was

suffering at tne destruction of so miny gallant troops. It was after the battle of Cold Harbor that I went to the general's tent to deliver a ciphergram, and found him Eitting alone, smoking a cigar and evidently buried in thought. His face bore a care-worn expression that indicated sleepless nights and wearisome days. For a moment he was oblivious of my presence; then he nodded to me and I entered, handing him the message. After reading it he turned to me with a sigh. “Beckwith,” he said, “the hardest part of this general business is the responsibility for the loss of one s men. I can see no other way out of it, however; we’ve got to keep at them. But it is hard, very hard, to see all these brave fellows killed and wounded. It means aching hearts back home.” And he lapsed again into ruminating silence. There were two occasions when I saw General Grant actually shed tears. The one was in the forepart of July of 1864, while we were in headquarters at City Point in the operations before Petersburg. A telegram came in from Gen. W. T. Sherman, who was grappling with Hood at Atlanta, Ga., conveying the painful intelligence of the death of McPherson, the beloved commander of the Army of the Tennessee. WORD OF M’PHERSON’S DEATH,

This rugged and gallant leader, by his intrepid and cavalier bravery, had won for himself the enthusiastic support of his men and the unreserved confidence and admiration of Grant and his generals. It„was a telling blow, just as this time; to the hopes and aspirations of the North. I took the dispatch to the general, and he read it silently. He was hard hit, I could readily see that. His mouth twitched and his eyes closed as If he were shutting out the baleful words. Then the tears came and one followed the other down his bronzed cheeks as he sat there without a word of comment. It was most eloquent silence.

The other occasion was in October of the same year, when the news of the death of Gen. T. E. G. Ransom reached us. Ransom and Grant had been comrades in arms in the West in the early days of the war, and a strong friendship had grown up between them. The loss of the young officer struck home with peculiar force *hnd none felt that loss more deeply than General Grant.