October, 2005

Well, now a publisher’s trade association has joined the fray in the fight against Google’s massive copyright infringement scheme. The Association of American Publishers’s press release states, quite correctly, that “the bottom line is that under its current plan, Google is seeking to make millions of dollars by freeloading on the talent and property of authors and publishers.”

This new lawsuit joins the suit filed by the Author’s Guild last month. The press release issued when the Author’s Guild suit was filed said, “This is a plain and brazen violation of copyright law. It’s not up to Google or anyone other than the authors, the rightful owners of these copyrights, to decide whether and how their works will be copied.”

Google apparently still doesn’t get it. Its response to the AAP lawsuit announcement is “Google Print is a historic effort to make millions of books easier for people to find and buy. Creating an easy-to-use index of books is fair use under copyright law and supports the purpose of copyright: to increase the awareness and sales of books directly benefiting copyright holders,” said David Drummond, Google’s vice president of corporate development and general counsel. “This short-sighted attempt to block Google Print works counter to the interests of not just the world’s readers, but also the world’s authors and publishers.” Never mind that it constitutes a flagrant violation of even the most fundamental concepts of copyright law. Never let the details get in the way of a good program idea, I guess. Or so seems Google’s attitude.

As for me, I can’t see how having my intellectual property–my blood, sweat, and tears–available to the world for free–with no payment of royalties to me–or any other author, for that matter–benefits either my publisher or me, but I’m just a dumb lawyer. What do I know as compared to the all-knowing Google?

That Google is trampling on the intellectual property rights of authors and publishers is of no account and of no consideration to Google. I guess it’s going to take losing these two lawsuits–and the concomitant judgments, which will include awards of attorney’s fees–for them to get it.

This litigation interests me a great deal for a variety of reasons. As an attorney who has dabbled in intellectual property law for the better part of twenty years, it’s of great interest to me professionally and intellectually. IP issues have always fascinated me. As a publisher, I have a vested interest in protecting the copyright rights of my authors and of doing everything I can possibly do to maximize the company’s profits to benefit its shareholders, including preventing our works from being readily available to the world for free. Finally, as an author who has not consented to the infringement of his copyrights by Google, I am outraged by their policy. The combination of these factors means that I am a zealous supporter of this litigation. As I pointed out in a prior post on this blog, I view Google’s program as being virtually identical to the sorts of copyright infringement that the U. S. Supreme Court outlawed in the Grokster decision earlier this year. If Grokster is illegal, so, too, should this program be.

Let’s hope that the AAP and the Author’s Guild prevail.

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I am not a professional historian. In fact, I have never had a formal history class after tenth grade. With two majors and a minor, I didn’t have time to take any history classes in college. This means that I am entirely self-taught.

The fact that I am self-taught is actually a bit of a mixed blessing. On one hand, my mind is not cluttered with theory, and I have the ability to only focus on those things that interest me. On the other hand, it means that I have no formalized approach to the researching and writing of history. I am free to pick and choose what I want to work on, but it means that I am viewed by many–not all–academic historians as an amateur, one who is trying to horn in on their territory.

I can understand that. These folks make their living that way, and credibility is critical to their efforts. At the same time, I’m not looking to take their jobs, and my minimal book sales are such that they’re no threat to these professionals. However, just because I am untrained in the discipline doesn’t mean that I am incompetent or that I cannot do quality work. I like to think that I have earned my spurs (no pun intended) and that I have earned some respect. However, there are some academic historians who still tend to peer down their noses and be very condescending with the likes of me simply because I don’t have those three magic letters–P, H, and D–after my name.

Because of that, I tend to be very insecure about my work, and I likewise tend to be extremely touchy about the reactions to my work. I often feel the need to justify myself and to justify my work. It means that I can be unduly sensitive to legitimate criticism, and it means that I end up taking offense to things that probably were not intended to be offensive. I regret that a great deal.

I actually think that Rodney King had it quite right when he asked, “Can’t we all just get along?” Ultimately, my goal is the same as the professionals: telling the stories of the men who suffered and died for what they believed in the best, most accurate, and most readable fashion that I can accomplish. I can only hope that I succeed.

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I’ve been thinking about Carhart’s book again, and about a comment that came in. That comment suggests that although Carhart claims loudly that he’s espousing some novel theory, the historical record plainly demonstrates that others have already tread the same water on a number of prior occasions. That is intellectual dishonesty at best, and consumer fraud at worst.

What bothers me is that people do derivative works without acknowledging that that’s what they are, and without ackowledging that they’re borrowing ideas from others. There has been so much written about the Battle of Gettysburg that apparently the only way to make a splash is to re-package someone else’s work, jazz it up, and try to sell it as such. As a student, I was taught that doing so without attribution constitutes plagiarism. In my humble opinion, Mr. Carhart has engaged in plagiarism by claiming that his theory is novel and by not giving proper credit to those who have come before him.

I wish I could say that this is the first time I’ve seen this sort of thing, but it’s not.

I wrote a review of a book by a guy named Derek Smith on the April 1865 Battle of Sailor’s Creek wherein I lambasted the author and his publisher for stealing the maps of Chris Calkins. I later asked Chris about this directly, and he confirmed that he was never asked for his permission to use his maps, that he was not paid for the privilege, and that those maps were stolen from him by the author and the publisher.

The publication of that review brought about a letter to the editor by Rick Sauers, indicating that the same publisher had done the same thing to him on another book.

As an author who gets paid precious little for the fruits of his labor, I feel their pain. Plagiarism is intellectually dishonest, and when it’s used as a means of selling books–making money at the expense of the ones who REALLY did the work–then it’s theft and a fraud on the consuming public. I cannot forgive that, and I cannot condone it.

Please do yourselves a favor. Don’t buy Carhart’s book and encourage more plagiarism.

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Given George S. Patton, Jr.’s success as an armored commander and his success as an army commander, it’s easy to forget that he was an old horse cavalryman. In 1921, Patton, then a major in the 3rd Cavalry, wrote this essay, which sums up the mentality of the horse cavalryman. The essay is titled “The Cavalryman”. It’s a favorite:

“There is always room at the top,” is a favorite phrase for the advertisements of correspondence courses.

This is true in all walks of life, but in none is it truer than in regard to leaders of Cavalry.

Since the time when the increased complexity of war made the division into several arms necessary, there have been many good generals of armies, good infantrymen and good artillerymen not a few, but the good cavalrymen can be counted on the fingers of your hands.

This does not mean that the leader of cavalry must be of superior clay to his brethren of the other arms, but it does mean that he must possess a combination of qualities not often found in one individual.

He must have a passion – not simply a liking – for horses, for nothing short of an absorbing passion can make him take the necessary interest in his mount.

A diploma, even from [Fort] Riley, does no more than give a good start on the line which must be followed and developed.

He must be a veterinarian in theory and practice; a farrier and a horsehoer better than any man in his troop; a stable sergeant and horse trainer; a saddler. Above all he must possess a sense of obligation to his mount, which, with the whip of a remorseless conscience makes him – him personally – seek the welfare of his horses above his own.

No one acquires these qualities at teas or card parties, or by slapping his leg with his whip.

Such knowledge can only be acquired by reading books on horse diseases, on horse management, on conditioning, and training. By association with horsemen of all sorts and conditions wherever met. What he reads and sees and hears will not all be useful, or all correct. Much of it will be bunk, but little by little, through the years, constant research and above all, constant experimentation will lead finally to the acquirement of a little knowledge.
But, while so learning and working, he must remember that the things he e is accomplishing are not ends. He is neither a stable sergeant, nor a horseshoer, nor a veterinarian; such arts are but means. The end is to become a cavalry officer who will be a success in war.

The officer who never looks after his ponies after a game to see that they are properly put away; or who at the end of a long march or hard drill says, “Sergeant, fix up the horses, I’ll be back soon,” and then beats it, is not building for war; is not earning his pay. He is without pride and lazy, and the men know it and despise him while neglecting the horses.

I have said that all the foregoing things must be done with the object of obtaining success in war; but why?

Because, success in war depends on getting to the right place at the right time. Neither result may be attained if the horses play out. When the great moment for which he has lived comes, all his knowledge, no matter how hard he has worked, will seem pitifully inadequate to enable him to get exhausted and half starved horses over waterless country on time. Time, I repeat; let him brand that word into his soul. Nearly all the remediable failures of the world result from being late.

An now, suppose that the officer has possessed himself of these qualities; affection for the horse; tenacity of purpose; a studious mind; a feeling of obligation and a sense of time. What are the other qualifications he must acquire?

A thorough knowledge of war by reading histories, lives of cavalrymen, by the study of the tactics of his arm and by the constant working of problems. This, too, will take strength of will and hard work, but, again assuming that he has succeeded, what is the final quality which he must acquire?

He must rain himself into the possession of a Gambler’s Courage.

Since General Chauvel has destroyed the idea that the horse is precluded from the battlefield, and has shown that bullets are impotent to stop determined valor, the successful cavalryman must educate himself to say Charge! I say educate himself, for the man is not born who can say it out of hand. There are several reasons for this.

For years, we have been taught that fire is irresistible, our experience on the target range has strengthened the myth. We picture sheets of cupro-nickel (I had almost said lead) sweeping in devastating hurricane over the field.

At maneuvers we have been taught to skip on foot from bush to rock-like sand fleas on the beach.

Civilization has affected us; we abhor personal encounter. Many a man will risk his life, with an easy mind, in a burning house, who recoils from having his face punched. We have been taught to restrain our emotions, to look upon anger as low, until many of us have never experienced the God sent ecstasy of unbridled wrath. We have never felt our eyes screw up, our temples throb, and the red mist gather in our sight.

And we expect that a man, the result of all this, shall, in an instant, the twinkling of an eye, direct himself of all restraint of all caution and hurl himself on the enemy, a frenzied beast, lusting to probe his foeman’s guts with three feet of steel or shatter his brains with a bullet. Gentlemen, it cannot be done – not without mental practice.

That is why it is easier to attack on foot than to charge mounted. It seems more refined. There, in front, are those dear futile bushes of maneuvers, the bullets sing and whisper but there is more time to get used to them. It takes courage, higher moral courage to walk to death than to gallop at it. But, it is the form of courage which our civilization has given us. It is the courage of the burning house; not of the bloody nose.

Therefore, you must school yourself to savagery. You must imagine how it will feel when your sword hilt crashes into the breast bone of your enemy. You must picture the wild exaltation of the mounted charge when the lips draw back in a snarl and the voice cracks with passion.

While on the march or at horse exercise, you must say to yourself, “There is the enemy at the corner! What do I do? Charge!!” You must ride stiff fences, you must play polo.

When you have acquired the ability to develop on necessity, momentary and calculated savagery, you can keep your twentieth century clarity of vision with which to calculate the chances of whether to charge or fight on foot, and having decided on the former, the magic word will transform you temporarily into a frenzied brute.

To use the words which Conan Doyle puts in the mouth of his hero Gerard, you have equipped yourselves with, “A heart of fire and a brain of ice.”

To sum up, then, you must be: a horse master; a scholar; a high minded gentleman; a cold blooded hero; a hot blooded savage. At one and the same time, you must be a wise man and a fool. You must not get fat or mentally old, and you must be a personal Leader.

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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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Last night, I gave a talk to the Raleigh (NC) Civil War Roundtable. I did a comparison and contrast of Wade Hampton and Jeb Stuart, and in the course of preparing the talk, I realized that the TRUE Wizard of the Saddle was not Nathan Bedford Forrest, for the reasons set forth below, but rather Wade Hampton.

Here are the reasons:

1. Unlike Forrest, Wade Hampton was THE quintessential subordinate officer. Always courtly and courteous, Hampton performed well as a subordinate. In fact, Robert E. Lee greatly regretted giving Hampton permission to leave the Army of Northern Virginia to go to South Carolina in 1865, and Joseph E. Johnston, the overall Confederate commander in the Carolinas, came to rely heavily on Hampton was his most trusted and most dependable subordinate, supplanting even William J. Hardee. In fact, Hampton designed the plan that Johnston used at Bentonville, and Hampton’s audacious attack at Monroe’s Crossroads permitted Hardee to successfully evacuate his Corps from Fayetteville and burn the Clarendon Bridge over the Cape Fear River before it fell into Sherman’s hands. In fact, Hampton, who did not particularly like Stuart, was unfailingly the loyal subordinate who could be depended upon in almost any capactiy.

2. Unlike Forrest, Hampton was the complete package. While a ferocious fighter–Hampton killed 13 Union soldiers in personal combat during the war and was severely wounded twice in battle, and wounded one other time in battle–Hampton also had a real talent for performing the traditional role of cavalry–scouting, screening, and reconnaissance. Hampton was actually quite good in all three of these roles–perhaps he learned and mastered the techniques from Stuart–and could be relied upon to perform whatever role he was needed in.

3. Unlike Forrest, Hampton regularly met and defeated the very best the Union cavalry had to offer. While Forrest was off facing the second team, Hampton was facing–and beating–the likes of Sheridan, Gregg, Merritt, Kilpatrick, Wilson, Custer, etc. Hampton never lost a major cavalry engagement where he commanded the Army of Northern Virginia’s Cavalry Corps.

4. Like Forrest, Hampton had no formal military training whatsoever, even though his grandfather had been a major general in the War of 1812, and both his father and grandfather had served in the cavalry. However, Hampton had a lot of native, natural talent, and became a feared and respected commander of horse as a result of his God-given talent.

5. Unlike Forrest, Hampton’s operations actually made a difference in the outcome of the war. Hampton’s truly decisive thrashing of Sheridan at Trevilian Station in June 1864 actually made Early’s Valley Campaign possible, and made it possible for the Confederacy to have an additional six months of life that it otherwise probably would not have had. Forrest’s operations were not much more than annoyances for the Union high command, like a larger-scale version of John S. Mosby’s partisans.

6. Hampton was THE highest ranking officer in all of the Confederate cavalry, ranking even Forrest and exceeding even the lamented Stuart in rank.

When I take all of these factors into account, it becomes clear to me that calling Nathan Bedford Forrest the Wizard of the Saddle is wrong. With all due respect to the late, great Shelby Foote, the TRUE Wizard of the Saddle was Wade Hampton, not Forrest.

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My wife and I try to take a little vacation of some sort every October. I promised her one that has nothing at all to do with the Civil War this year, so we’re heading to Las Vegas for a few days later this evening. This means that I will be off line for a few days. See y’all when we get home next Tuesday.

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I am often asked for my opinion on the greatest cavalrymen of the American Civil War. Invariably, unless the person asking the question knows me well, they express surprise and asky why Nathan Bedford Forrest is not on that list. I wish I had a dollar for every time that I’ve been asked this question. I’d have a lot of dollar bills by now.

In my humble opinion, there is no place for Nathan Bedford Forrest on ANY list of great cavalrymen of the Civil War.

I know that’s not only controversial, but borders on sacrilege in a lot of quarters. However, there’s a good reason and sound logic underlying this opinion of mine. First, and foremost, Forrest was not a cavalryman in any traditional sense of the word. The historic role of cavalry was scouting, screening, and reconnaissance. With no formal military training, Forrest had absolutely no talent for these crucial roles, and did not perform them with any ability, the one notable exception being the Battle of Shiloh in April 1862. By example, when one thinks of Jeb Stuart, one thinks of his masterful intelligence gathering (which included three different rides around the Army of the Potomac), the magnificent job he did screening Robert E. Lee’s retreat from Gettysburg, and the way Lee described Stuart: “the eyes and ears of the army.” Or, consider what a weeping Lee said when he learned that Stuart was dead–“he never brought me a wrong piece of information.” In all my years studying the Civil War, I have never once heard such a description applied to Forrest.

Rather, Forrest was a commander of mounted infantry. His men carried infantry weapons and used infantry tactics. They used their horses primarily as transportation, using them to move from place to place, where they then fought dismounted. I will grant you that Forrest was an innovative tactician, and that some of his tactics closely resemble some modern armored tactics, but it’s important to evaluate Forrest in the context of his times, and not in comparison with modern doctrine, which has changed. Forrest simply had no talent for the traditional roles of cavalry.

Second, there’s the fact that effective cavalry work depends upon the cavalry commander working closely with the army commander, whereby the cavalry commander serves as the eyes and ears of the army. Armies rely on discipline. Discipline means that junior officers obey the lawful orders of their superiors. This is the only way that a chain of command can be maintained and anarchy avoided. That means that an insubordinate junior officer, no matter how talented, has no value to an army commander if that junior officer refuses to obey orders. What I’ve just described is Nathan Bedford Forrest. Forrest absolutely and categorically refused to serve under two army commanders–Bragg and Hood–and said to Hood, “If you were half a man, I would slap your jowls.” Never mind that Hood had lost one leg in combat, and had a permanently crippled arm due to another combat wound. This means that unless he was in independent command, Forrest was entirely useless to the army commander.

By the way, the same description applies to Phil Sheridan, who was unable to serve under George G. Meade, and never did again after the Battle of the Wilderness.

Finally, there’s the issue of just what did Forrest accomplish. Yes, he had a gaudy combat record, but it’s easy to do that when you’re persistently and consistently up against the second team. I can think of only one instance where Forrest really faced the first team–against Wilson at Selma at the tail end of the war–and when he did face the first team, he got thrashed, big time. I come to the conclusion that Forrest really wasn’t much more than John S. Mosby on a larger scale–a nuisance that sucked away some resources, but which, in the big scheme of things, didn’t really have any impact at all of the final outcome of any major campaign or of the war in his theater.

When I examine all of these issues, I come away with one conclusion: that there is no place for Forrest on a list of great cavalrymen of the Civil War. In fact, given my druthers, I would choose Wade Hampton over Forrest in a heartbeat. Hampton was every bit as hard a fighter–Hampton had a gaudy won-lost record against the best the Union had to offer, not the second team–who was the ultimate subordinate officer and who had a real gift for performing the traditional roles of cavalry. Perhaps that explains why Hampton was THE highest ranking cavalry officer of the war on the Confederate side, outranking even Forrest.

That’s my opinion, anyway.

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Modern Civil War books that I love, in no particular order:

Anything by Gordon Rhea
Andy Trudeau’s A Testing of Courage
Alan Nolan’s Lee Considered
Anything by Bruce Catton, but especially the American Heritage picture book
Shelby Foote’s trilogy
Douglas Southall Freeman’s Lee’s Lieutenants
Stephen Z. Starr’s trilogy on the Union cavalry
Virgil Carrington Jones’ Gray Ghosts and Rebel Raiders
Mark L. Bradley’s two books, but especially Last Stand in the Carolinas: The Battle of Bentonville
Anything by Jeff Wert, but especially his From Winchester to Cedar Creek
Ernest Fergurson’s Chancellorsville 1863: Souls of the Brave
Chris Fonviele’s The Last Departing Rays of Hope: The Wilmington Campaign
Alice Rains Trulock’s In the Hands of Providence
Benjamin Franklin Cooling’s Monocacy: The Battle that Saved Washington
Peter Cozzens’ This Terrible Sound: The Battle of Chickamauga

There are probably more, but these are the ones that come to mind at the moment.

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