Union Cavalry

Every now and again, I like to feature unknown and forgotten cavalrymen. This is one of those opportunities.

Seymour Beach Conger was born in Plymouth, Huron County, Ohio on September 25, 1825. His brother Everton Judson Conger was born in Montorse, Pennsylvania on April 25, 1834. With the coming of war in 1861, the Conger brothers both ended up with commissions in the 3rd Virginia Cavalry (USA), which later became known as the 3rd West Virginia Cavalry. Only one squadron (2 companies) of the 3rd West Virginia typically served with the Army of the Potomac.

By the fall of 1862, Everton was a captain and Seymour was a lieutenant. On October 25, 1862, Everton led 30 troopers on a scouting expedition in the vicinity of Bristoe Station on the Orange & Alexandria Railroad, and was badly wounded. The next day, Capt. Ulric Dahlgren led a mission to try to find out what had happened to Everton Conger, and Dahlgren found Conger with four serious wounds. Dahlgren made it back, reported Everton Conger’s location, and the captain was located and brought back safely.

After recovering, Everton Conger ended up receiving a commission in the 1st District of Columbia Cavalry, serving as its lieutenant colonel. In that capacity, Conger worked closely with Lafayette Baker, the regimental colonel and head of Lincoln’s secret service. After Lincoln’s assassination, Everton Conger led the cavalry expedition that ultimately captured David Herrold and that brought John Wilkes Booth to bay, so that Boston Corbitt could fire the shot that killed Booth. Conger lived to the ripe old age of 82, dying on July 12, 1918.

Even though he was only 31 years of age when he caught Booth, 63-year-old Harrison Ford is set to play him in a feature film that is supposed to be released in 2007 titled Manhunt. While I’m a big fan of Ford, I’m very skeptical about his ability to play a man half his age convincingly. We shall see. At the same time, it is kind of exciting to see a good Civil War story being given the “star” treatment. I just wish that they had chosen someone closer to Conger’s age to play him.

After Everton Conger was wounded, his brother Seymour received a promotion and ended up commanding the squadron of the 3rd West Virginia Cavalry that was part of Col. Thomas C. Devin’s First Cavalry Division brigade. In that role, Conger’s men performed good duty at Gettysburg on July 1, 1863. On August 7, 1864, Seymour Conger died of combat wounds suffered in action.

The Conger brothers are largely forgotten to this day. I’m glad that Everton’s role in bringing Booth to bay will be played up in Manhunt. Because there was only a single squadron of the 3rd West Virginia attached to the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps, Seymour never got much of a chance to make a name for himself, but his service was dutiful and competent.

Here’s to two horse soldiers who are deserving of recognition.

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I have always bought into the school of thought that George B. McClellan made absolutely atrocious use of his cavalry. That’s the conventional wisdom, and in some ways, it’s a legitimate criticism. Instead of having his mounted units serve together as cohesive units during the 1862 Peninsula Campaign, he instead split up regiments and parceled them out, a company here and a company there, doing messenger and orderly duty, and not performing the traditional role of cavalry–scouting, screening, and reconnaissance. That is the conventional version of McClellan’s use of the cavalry. However, further digging has persuaded me that accepting that version dramatically underestimates the role that the cavalry played during his tenure in command of the Army of the Potomac.

As one example, McClellan used a cohesive command–the Cavalry Reserve–on the Peninsula, and, for the most part, it acquitted itself well. The Cavalry Reserve, consisting of the U. S. Army’s Regular cavalry regiments and supplemented by the Sixth Pennsylvania Cavalry, performed very well, particularly during the Fifth Corps’ combined arms operation that led to the Battle of Hanover Court House in May 1862. Then, the Army of the Potomac’s cavalry did some good work during the Maryland Campaign, and particularly at places like Quebec School House, where Federal horsemen gave Wade Hampton all he wanted. To be sure, his use of the cavalry was far from perfect–the failure to use any of his cavalry to picket the Harpers Ferry Road at Antietam is a glaring error that may have cost him an even greater success at Antietam. Instead, he used his cavalry to make a mounted charge across a bridge over Antietam Creek in an effort to capture or drive off some enemy artillery. While this was a decent use of cavalry pursuant to traditional Napoleonic tactics, it was not a good use of his horse under the circumstances.

At the same time, it’s clear to me that McClellan learned as he went along. I’ve never really looked at the period between Antietam and McClellan’s relief on November 7 before, but it’s very pertinent to my work on Ulric Dahlgren, so I’ve been examining it in some detail. When I looked at this period in detail, I discovered that the Union cavalry actually performed quite well in the Loudoun Valley during this period. Day after day, the Federal horse took on Jeb Stuart’s vaunted cavalry, and fought it to a standstill. It was hard, heavy fighting, and the Union troopers acquitted themselves quite well. Familar names such as George D. Bayard, David M. Gregg, and Alfred Pleasonton came to prominence during this period. Although Bayard had only a few weeks to live, the others had long careers in the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps and left their mark on the Union mounted arm. There’s not much out there on this period; Pat Brennan published an article that addressed this period in detail in a 1999 issue of Blue & Gray Magazine, and Pat–a cavalry guy–did an excellent job of documenting the relentless cavalry fighting that took place.

Most importantly, this period reflects that McClellan made good use of his mounted arm to perform the traditional role of cavalry–scouting, screening and reconnaissance–and that these men did an excellent job of screening his advance. It was, in fact, reminiscent of the fighting that took place on the same ground in the Loudoun Valley in June 1863, just a few months later. It is, therefore, clear to me that I have been unfair to George McClellan in the past, and that I need to be more open-minded about his use of cavalry. In fact, once he got past the Peninsula Campaign, he did rather well with his maturing mounted arm, the failure to picket the Harpers Ferry Road being the one really notable exception.

By contrast, Ambrose E. Burnside really was atrocious with his use of cavalry. The fact that there were exactly three casualties in the Union cavalry out of more than 13,000 suffered in the Battle of Fredericksburg is a pretty good reflection of just how badly he did. Bayard was one of the three, and his mortal wound was the result of bad luck–he was struck by a shell fragment while at Sixth Corps headquarters. When Bayard is removed from the equation, this means that there were exactly TWO Union cavalry casualties during the Battle of Fredericksburg. Clearly, Burnside was the worst of all of the Army of the Potomac’s commanders, not McClellan, when it comes to the use of cavalry.

It just goes to show you that the conventional wisdom is not always right, or if it is, it is an oversimplification of a complex issue that deserves a more detailed and more thorough examination. I’m glad that I have undertaken that task and come to different conclusions as a result.

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As my regular readers know, I am working on writing a biography of Ulric Dahlgren. I’ve reached an especially interesting phase of his brief but controversial life that demonstrates, in a nutshell, the paradox that was Ulric Dahlgren. On November 7, 1862, Franz Sigel ordered Dahlgren to take 100 hand-picked cavalrymen and go on a reconnaissance in force into the town of Fredericksburg. Making a ride of 50 miles, Dahlgren boldly dashed into the town on November 9, learned the enemy dispositions, skirmished with Confederate cavalry, and then, on the way out of town, burned the Aquia Creek & Fredericksburg Railroad bridges over Potomac and Accokeek Creeks. He then withdrew and made it safely back to Sigel’s headquarters, with a loss of 1 killed and 4 missing. It was a bold and daring raid that contributed accurate intelligence to Burnside as he began his movement toward Fredericksburg. However, he had not been ordered to burn the bridges. Maj. Gen. Samuel P. Heintzelman, who commanded the troops assigned to the defenses of Washington, to which Sigel’s Eleventh Corps was assigned, endorsed and forwarded Dahlgren’s report of this action, with this note: “Respectfully forwarded. A very gallant affair. The burning of the bridges was very unnecessary.”

In fact, it was not only unnecessary, it ended up harming Burnside’s efforts to take the town of Fredericksburg and then caused problems for Herman Haupt and the U. S. Military Railroads. Thus, Dahlgren’s Fredericksburg raid was a mixed bag. It was a bold dash into the town that brought back important military intelligence, but at the same time, it ultimately created problems because he exceeded his orders. This episode plainly foreshadowed the sort of scenario that not only cost him his life in 1864, it also triggered one of the Civil War’s greatest controversies, which still rages to this day.

All of this got me thinking about the ultimate issue of whether an officer who takes the initiative and exceeds his orders, and ultimately causes problems as a consequence, is a problematic officer. In Dahlgren’s case, I think that he was. I think that, in spite of his obvious courage and talent, he tended to be a bit of a cowboy. For instance, after years of evaluating the question of the so-called Dahlgren Papers found on his body when he was killed, I have come to the conclusion that it’s quite likely that he cooked up the scheme to kidnap and assassinate Davis and his cabinet on his own, that he didn’t tell anyone (although it is possible that he told–and got approval from–Stanton), and that in so doing, he was exceeding his orders. It’s the burning of the bridges at Fredericksburg on a much larger scale.

In a heirarchical organization such as an army–which depends on discipline and the very concept of subordinate officers obeying the lawful orders of their superiors–there is not a lot of room for cowboying. In fact, an insubordinate junior officer, no matter how talented, has no value to an army if that officer cannot be relied upon to obey the lawful orders of his superior. Such is the case with Nathan Bedford Forrest, whom I have demonstrated was largely useless in any capacity but independent command because he refused to serve under almost anybody else’s orders.

At the same time, officers have to have some latitude to interpret and apply their orders as dictated by circumstances. If, for instance, an objective has already been destroyed, or cannot be reached for whatever reason, that officer must then do what he can in order to comply with at least the spirit of his orders, if not the letter of them. Army doctrine teaches this; improvisation is an important part of the training of the modern military officer.

I have, therefore, been forced to face the ultimate question with respect to Ully Dahlgren: given his well-documented tendency to cowboy, I can’t help but wonder what sort of a military career he would have had if he had survived the raid on Richmond in March 1864. In a lot of ways, I think he was like George A. Custer: courageous to a fault, who threw caution to the wind, who was a charismatic leader, but who ultimately was too tragically flawed by his own boundless ambition to fulfill the promise of greatness. Like Custer, his boundless self-confidence, courage, and boundless ambition cost him his life in combat, and both died lonely and ultimately useless deaths and suffered the mutilations of their corpses as a consequence.

All of which makes me wonder just how many other officers met the same fate with their careers…..

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For a number of years, I have been fascinated by Ulric Dahlgren. He’s a young man who definitely had “the right stuff,” to borrow a line from Tom Wolfe. He had all of the tools to become a truly great cavalryman. A colonel at 21, he was dead at 22, having been completely disavowed by the Army.

In May 1863, just after the Battle of Chancellorsville, then-Capt. Dahlgren accompanied Joseph Hooker to Washington when Hooker went to consult with Secretary of War Stanton and President Lincoln. At that time, Dahlgren was serving on Hooker’s staff. Because his father, Rear Admiral John A. Dahlgren, was a close friend of the President, the young captain had unprecedented access to the White House and to Lincoln, certainly more so than any other 21-year-old captain.

During that meeting, Ully Dahlgren pitched a raid on Richmond to the President and to Stanton, proposing to free the POW’s being held on Belle Isle and in Libby Prison. The proposal was rejected for lots of reasons, but Ully Dahlgren continued to harbor his idea.

In the winter of 1863-64, Judson Kilpatrick revived the idea, and Ully Dahlgren, then in Washington and still recuperating from the loss of a leg to a terrible combat wound on July 6, 1863, eagerly signed on to the project. The raid was approved by Lincoln and Stanton over the objections of Cavalry Corps commander, Maj. Gen. Alfred Pleasonton, and over the objection of Army of the Potomac commander Maj. Gen. George G. Meade. In short, the raid had the specific approval of the highest echelons of the Union command, right up to the White House itself. Dahlgren led a column of the raid, which was intended to enter Richmond, free the POW’s, and then head down the Peninsula.

On March 2, Ully Dahlgren was killed in King and Queen County when he was ambushed by home guards and elements of the 9th Virginia Cavalry. On his body were found certain incriminating documents, which were published verbatim in one of the Richmond newspapers. This triggered an extraordinary exchange of correspondence:

HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA
April 1, 1864

Maj. Gen. George G. Meade, Commanding Army of the Potomac:

General:

I am instructed to bring to your notice two papers found upon the body of Col. U. Dahlgren, who was killed while commanding a part of the Federal cavalry during the late expedition of General Kilpatrick. To enable you to understand the subject fully I have the honor to inclose photographic copies of the papers referred to, one of which is an address to his officers and men, bearing the official signature of Colonel Dahlgren, and the other, not signed, contains more detailed explanations of the purpose of the expedition and more specific instructions as to its execution. In the former this passage occurs:

We hope to release the prisoners from Belle Island first, and having seen them fairly started, we will cross the James River into Richmond, destroying the bridges after us and exhorting the prisoners to destroy and burn the hateful city; and do not allow the rebel leader Davis and his traitorous crew to escape. The prisoners must render great assistance, as you cannot leave your ranks too far or become too much scattered, or you will be lost.

Among the instructions contained in the second paper are the following:

The bridges once secured, and the prisoners loose and over the river, the bridges will be secured and the city destroyed. The men must keep together and well in hand, and once in the city it must be destroyed and Jeff. Davis and cabinet killed. Pioneers will go along with combustible material.

In obedience to my instructions I beg leave respectfully to inquire whether the designs and instructions of Colonel Dahlgren, as set forth in these papers, particularly those contained in the above extracts, were authorized by the United States Government or by his superior officers, and also whether they have the sanction and approval of those authorities.

I have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

R. E. Lee,
General

Not surprisingly, this letter triggered a flurry of correspondence and exchanges among the Union high command. On April 17, Meade responded:

HDQRS, ARMY OF THE POTOMAC
April 17, 1864

General Robert E. Lee, Comdg. Army of Northern Virginia:

General:

I received on the 15th instant, per flag of truce, your communication of the 1st instant, transmitting photographic copies of two documents alleged to have been found upon the body of Col. U. Dahlgren, and inquiring “whether the designs and instructions contained in the above extracts, were authorized by the United States Government or by his superior officers, and also whether they have the sanction and approval of these authorities.” In reply I have to state that neither the United States Government, myself, nor General Kilpatrick authorized, sanctioned, or approved the burning of the city of Richmond and the killing of Mr. Davis and cabinet, nor any other act not required by military necessity and in accordance with the usages of war.

In confirmation of this statement I inclose a letter from General Kilpatrick and have the honor to be, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

Geo. G. Meade,
Major-General

Brig. Gen. Judson Kilpatrick, the overall commander of the failed cavalry raid on Richmond, wrote:

HEADQUARTERS THIRD DIVISION, CAVALRY CORPS,
April 16, 1864

Brig. Gen. S. Williams, A.A.G., Army of the Potomac:

General:

In accordance with instructions from headquarters, Army of the Potomac, I have carefully examined officers and men who accompanied Colonel Dahlgren on his late expedition.

All testify that he published no address whatever to his command, nor did he give any instructions, much less of the character as set forth in the photographic copies of two papers alleged to have been found upon the person of Colonel Dahlgren and forwarded by General Robert E. Lee, commanding Army of Northern Virginia. Colonel Dahlgren, one hour before we separated at my headquarters, handed me an address that he intended to read to his command. That paper was indorsed in red ink, “Approved,” over my official signature. The photographic papers referred to are true copies of the papers approved by me, save so far as they speak of “exhorting the prisoners to destroy and burn the hateful city and kill the traitor Davis and his cabinet,” and in this, that they do not contain the indorsement referred to as having been placed by me on Colonel Dahlgren’s papers. Colonel Dahlgren received no orders from me to pillage, burn, or kill, nor were any such instructions given me by my superiors.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

J. Kilpatrick,
Brigadier-General Volunteers

And with that, the United States Army disavowed Ulric Dahlgren and a great controversy began that continues to rage to this day.

I am convinced that the documents were real, and I am likewise convinced that Dahlgren intended to do just what he proposed if the opportunity presented itself. There is some evidence that suggests that Kilpatrick lied in his March 16 letter (imagine that) and that he not only knew of Dahlgren’s plan, but approved of it.

The question, therefore, is just how much did Lincoln know, and did he approve the assassination of Davis and his cabinet as a means of shortening the war? Clearly, there is no written record to indicate his knowledge or approval, but that may have been intentional in order to provide for what’s commonly called plausible deniability. Some suggest that the raid was approved by Stanton and Lincoln for the specific purpose of using the chaos caused by the freed prisoners to take out Davis and his cabinet.

I tend to think that plausible deniability was at work. I think Stanton knew and approved it, without telling Lincoln.

I wonder what others think?

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I grew up in Berks County, Pennsylvania. The county seat of Berks County is the City of Reading. When Bvt. Maj. Gen. David McMurtrie Gregg resigned his commission in February 1865, he settled in his wife’s home town of Reading. Her family, the Heister family, was one of the leading families of Berks County, and they were wealthy, prominent citizens. Thus, it made sense that Gregg, who grew up in Huntington, Pennsylvania, would settle in Reading.

Berks County, in turn, readily and enthusiastically embraced David Gregg, treating him as a favorite son. The old soldier became a regular on the rubber chicken circuit, and he wrote extensively about his service in the United States Army. He became a leading leading citizen of the community, and was very active in the community. General Gregg died in 1916, and was buried in Charles Evans Cemetery. In 1922, the citizens of Reading raised money to erect a handsome equestrian monument to the general just a few hundred yards from his final resting place. I used to have a photo of the monument on this web site, back in its original configuration. I will see about having that photo restored somewhere on this web site.

David Gregg played a major role in developing my interest in Civil War cavalry. My family doctor’s office was right across the street from that handsome equestrian monument, and I saw it every week when I went in for my allergy shot. It always impressed me. It’s also caddycorner from the Berks County Historical Society, a place that naturally drew me in. It turns out that there is a large collection of General Gregg’s documents in the collection at the Historical Society, and I have spent some time reviewing them.

Not far from my parents’ house is a subdivision where all of the streets are named after prominent Pennsylvania generals, and sure enough, there is a Gregg Street. One of the local VFW posts is the David M. Gregg Post. Even though I was born 45 years after the general’s death, he still loomed large over the community of Reading, and as a boy, I was driven to find out just who this guy was whose name was plastered everywhere. In the process, I began learning about Civil War cavalry operations.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

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In the course of researching the Sixth Pennsylvania Cavalry (also known as Rush’s Lancers), I found the story of Theodore J. Wint. This man fascinates me, and it’s really a shame that his story has been forgotten by history. I intend to rectify this.

Wint, who was born near Scranton, Pennsylvania on March 8, 1845, enlisted as a private in the Lancers at age sixteen in 1861. By June 1864, he wore a sergeant’s chevrons, and he was then commissioned first lieutenant on July 1, 1864. He served honorably until the expiration of his term of service on September 30, 1864, when he mustered out of the volunteer service as a nineteen-year-old lieutenant. On February 20, 1865, he enlisted as a private in the General Mounted Service of the United States Army, and served in this role until November 24, 1865, when he received a commission as a second lieutenant in the 4th U. S. Cavalry. In May 1866, he was promoted to first lieutenant, serving as regimental adjutant from August 1868 to December 31, 1871, serving under, and gaining regular praise from, Ranald S. MacKenzie, generally considered to be the most successful Indian fighter in the Army. On April 21, 1872, he was promoted to captain, and then in May, 1892, he was promoted to major and transferred to the 10th U. S. Cavalry, one of the famous “buffalo soldier” regiments consisting of African-American soldiers led by white officers.

In April 1899, he was promoted to lieutenant colonel and was again transferred, this time to the 6th U. S. Cavalry. He was promoted to colonel on February 2, 1891, and to brigadier general on June 9, 1902. Wint served in the frontier Indian Wars (1866 to 1888)(where he served with great distinction), in Cuba, during the Spanish-American War (1898)(where he was badly wounded in battle when a Mauser bullet broke his thighbone), China (1900-1901), the Philippine insurrection (1901-1904)(where he distinguished himself by capturing one of the leaders of the insurgency) and the Army of Cuban Pacification (1906-1907). Ironically, while operating in both Cuba and the Philippines, Wint served under the command of General Joseph Wheeler, a former Confederate cavalry officer who again donned the blue uniform of the United States Army. The U. S. Army’s Philippines fortifications were named Fort Wint in his honor. General Wint died suddenly of heart disease at the relatively young age of 62 on March 21, 1907, while still on active duty in the field. He was not scheduled to retire until 1909, when he would have been 64, and was a few months shy of receiving one final promotion, this time to major general, had he lived to finish out his career. “General Wint was a quiet man who did things,” said Secretary of War William Howard Taft upon hearing of Wint’s passing.

Although he has been almost entirely forgotten by history, General Wint was buried in Arlington National Cemetery, where one of the largest and most handsome monuments in the entire cemetery marks his grave.

Other than the six months from the end of his term of service with the Lancers and his re-enlistment in the U. S. Army, Wint spent his entire adult life as a soldier, a career that spanned 46 years. No member of the Lancers achieved higher military rank than did General Wint. Few American cavalrymen accomplished more than he did.

Here’s a tribute to a forgotten hero. Let’s hope that he’s not forgotten again.

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Yesterday, Dimitri Rotov had a post about Brig. Gen. Napoleon Bonaparte Buford, the older half brother of John Buford. I responded and gave Dimitri some information. That exchange of information got me thinking about Army politics during the Civil War, and how those Army politics influenced lives and careers. Here’s the best example I can think of.

“John Buford was the best cavalryman I ever saw,” remembered his dear friend, Brig. Gen. John Gibbon. “I have always expressed the belief that had Buford lived he would have been placed in command of the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac, and once in that position he never would have been displaced.” Another officer of the 1st U. S. Cavalry said of Buford, “He had the respect and esteem of every man in the army, and the cavalry loved him as a father.” In the days after his brilliant performance at Gettysburg, a number of high-ranking officers, including Meade, lobbied to have John Buford promoted to major general. That promotion did not arrive until the day John Buford died, December 16, 1863. That day, Lincoln scrawled a hand-written note to Stanton asking that Buford be promoted to major general, dating to July 1, 1863. When the commission was presented to Buford in the hours just before he died, in a moment of lucidity, he supposedly said “Too late….now I wish I could live.”

Buford’s background and family history haunted his Civil War military career. He was a Democrat, who was born in Kentucky. His wife was raised with her first cousin, Brig. Gen. Basil W. Duke, who was John Hunt Morgan’s brother-in-law and a fine Confederate cavalryman in his own right. John Buford’s first cousin Brig. Gen. Abraham Buford commanded a division of Confederate cavalry under Nathan Bedford Forrest. Buford became a victim of unfortunate consequences through no fault of his own. Mix in Buford’s own disdain for the press and his penchant for avoiding publicity, and it creates a recipe for trouble that prevented him from achieving the high rank he deserved, and forever changed the complexion of the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps.

When news of the shelling of Fort Sumter arrived in Salt Lake City in 1861–where Buford was stationed–there was a lot of suspicion that he would follow his Southern roots. At that time, Buford roomed with another captain with Southern antecedents, John Gibbon. Buford and Gibbon were the best of friends–they had a lot in common, and they shared a lot personality traits. Buford’s brother-in-law, a prominent Frankfort merchant named Philip Swigert, had arranged with Gov. Beriah Magoffin that Buford be offered command of all of neutral Kentucky’s troops. Gibbon watched Buford read the letter, and waited for his response. When Gibbon asked what Buford intended to do, Buford responded, “I intend to tell him that I am a captain in the United States Army, and that I intend to remain one.”

In spite of this clear declaration of loyalty to the Union, there were frequent questions about Buford’s fidelity and dependability–as stated, he was a Democrat with Southern roots and lots of stuff in his closet. I have often said that the best single decision that John Pope ever made was to pluck Buford out of the inspector general’s office, have him promoted to brigadier (he held his Regular Army rank of major at the time), and give him command of a brigade in the Army of Virginia. As you well know, Pope was a nearly unmitigated disaster that greatly embarrassed Lincoln and Stanton, who had hand-selected him. Unfortunately, those events meant that Buford was closely associated with Pope, who quickly became a pariah after the twin debacles at Second Bull Run and Chantilly.

Consequently, many have speculated that the combination of all of these things (Pope, Democrat, Southern roots, etc, etc.) actually prevented John Buford from being promoted until it no longer matter–a couple of hours before his untimely death of typhoid fever.

So go Army politics. In the 1870’s, not long before he died, Joe Hooker gave an interview to a San Francisco newspaper. Hooker went to his grave blaming George Stoneman and William Woods Averell for his defeat at Chancellorsville, and that never changed. However, in that interview, Hooker made a statement that really provides deep insight: “I had to put Stoneman in command, and neither he nor Averell were of any account. I sent them to cut off Lee’s connections and the devils went so far around to avoid an enemy that they never accomplished anything they were sent for. If John Buford had been given the command the result would have been different.”

Alfred Pleasonton ranked Buford by nine days. When Stoneman took medical leave on May 15, 1863, Pleasonton took temporary command of the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps as its senior officer. But for these issues, Buford probably would have been promoted prior to Pleasonton. The complexion of that Cavalry Corps would have been very different indeed. Buford was thus a victim of the Army’s labyrinthine political machinations. Had Buford not taken ill, and had Gibbon’s prognostication held true–John Buford assuming command of the Cavalry Corps in 1864–and I seriously doubt that Phil Sheridan ever would have been brought east to assume command of that Cavalry Corps.

“For want of a nail, the kingdom was lost.”

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The second commander of the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps was Maj. Gen. Alfred Pleasonton. Pleasonton, a West Pointer and career dragoon, was a guy with an agenda. And that agenda was not battlefield glory. Pleasonton was a lead from the rear kind of a guy who was a masterful schemer and political intriguer. Pleasonton was the sort of guy who would start a fight on the playground and then step back and watch the chaos that he had started.

He was also one of the worst xenophobes I have ever encountered. Pleasonton hated foreigners with a passion so deep and so abiding that he found a way to remove all high ranking officers of foreign birth from his command through systematic manipulation. Percy Wyndham, an Englishman, made it easy–he was severely wounded at Brandy Station on June 9, 1863. Luigi Palma di Cesnola, an Italian count from an ancient ennobled family was badly wounded and captured at the Battle of Aldie, again making it easy. Others were more difficult. Maj. Gen. Julius Stahel, a Hungarian, ranked Pleasonton, and it was only through political intriguing that Stahel was removed from the path. Brig. Gen. Alfred N. Duffie, a Frenchman with a checkered past, was a classic example of the Peter Principle in action. Pleasonton got rid of Duffie by sacrificing his fine, veteran regiment by sending it on a mission behind enemy lines alone and unsupported, and the regiment was chopped to bits. That was reprehensible in the extreme.

Although Pleasonton was a good judge of talent–he arranged for the promotion of three good young officers–Wesley Merritt, Elon J. Farnsworth, and George A. Custer–from captain to brigadier general on June 28, 1863. He also had some real administrative talent. However, he was not an inspirational leader, and he was no brilliant tactician or strategist.

In short, his legacy is no real legacy. It’s hard to find another officer in the Army of the Potomac who reached higher rank and left less of a legacy than did Alf Pleasonton. And for that alone, he remains a paradox.

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