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Kilpatrick-Dahlgren Raid
All wars have political
objectives, but in civil wars political and military objectives are more closely
entwined. Where the 1863 campaigns had won the North substantial military
advantages, Lincoln spent the winter of 1863-64 (the quiet time for the armies)
pursuing political initiatives. He always considered there was a strong
Unionist element in the South that had been led astray or coerced by the
politically-powerful planter class, and he decided to appeal to this group now
that he could deal from a position of military strength.
He issued a Declaration of Amnesty and Reconstruction, allowing almost
everyone in the South full civil liberties as long as they swore loyalty to the
United States and promised to uphold the Emancipation Proclamation and laws
stemming from it. He also established a threshold for states to re-enter
the Union: if 10% of their voters swore loyalty, they could return. It was
deliberately mild, and it evoked sharp criticism from the Radical wing of the
Republican party. But would it appeal in the South? The first
problem was getting the message out. There was no way the newspapers and
politicians in the Confederacy would report it favorably to the people - they
were precisely the group Lincoln felt had led the mass of Southerners
astray. So how then to get the message out?
There were various answers in various places. The FLORIDA
EXPEDITION was one way: invade a rebellious state and spread the news. In
Tennessee it was much easier, since the US Army controlled most of the
state. In Louisiana the news could be spread much less widely, but there
was still hope of establishing a Reconstructed state government. But what
about the key parts of the Confederacy, still strongly controlled by the
grey-clad armies? Here the military would have to play a different role.
If the main armies mainly rested during the winter months, the cavalry was
usually busier, whether patrolling, foraging, or raiding. Here was a
partial answer to Lincoln's problem: cavalry raiders could spread the good news
as they moved through enemy countryside. (It was an open question how well
a farmer would receive the news that he could rejoin a US that had just burned
his barns, but the idea was no worse than others.) And cavalry raids were
one of the few things that were happening in Virginia over the winter of
1863-64. Sometimes the raids involved diversions, as at MORTON'S FORD when
two corps of the Army of the Potomac marched around to distract attention from
an abortive raid up the James-York Peninsula.
Lincoln's Proclamation chimed with plans the aggressive Brigadier General
Judson Kilpatrick was already harboring. He knew how weak the Confederate
lines of communication were; Lee had concentrated most of his forces in northern
Virginia, leaving mostly Home Guards and militia to defend Richmond and the
vital railroads. Kilpatrick reckoned a quick strike could break through
the part-time soldiers and into Richmond. For good measure, he (for who
better to lead this raid than the designer, Kilpatrick?) would liberate the
Union prisoners in Richmond and capture most of the Confederate hierarchy,
utterly wreck the rail roads and bridges in Richmond, and pull out. The
political effect in the South would be tremendous, and the military effect in
the east hardly less. Kilpatrick would be a hero, for sure. To this
scheme he merely added the idea of spreading Lincoln's leaflets.
By going to some of his political contacts (rather than stuffy generals who
might object to the risks) Kilpatrick made sure the plan was accepted. His
superiors did doubt the whole thing, but Kilpatrick was insulated from that by
Lincoln's direct patronage.
The operation had three parts. Kilpatrick had the main body, 3,500 men,
of which 500 under the 21-year old Colonel Ulric Dahlgren would split off and
circle to the west and hit the Richmond defenses in the flank. Meanwhile,
while the Army of the Potomac feinted again to draw the Rebels attention,
another cavalry raid (1,500 men under George Custer) would ride much further to
the west.
Custer's operation was a complete success. He threatened
Charlottesville, captured about 50 prisoners and 500 horses, and returned in
three days with only a handful of wounded. But that was the only part of
the operation that was going well.
Kilpatrick and Dahlgren had started well; there was no Confederate opposition
and they moved quickly on February 28. Dahlgren's picked 500 swung away,
while Kilpatrick moved straight south. On the 29th his men tore up some
railway track and moved to easy striking distance of Richmond.
On March 1 Kilpatrick was looking at the Richmond defenses, almost as he had
predicted them. The defenders were few, ill-equipped (Lee needed all the
modern guns in the army), and reservists. Kilpatrick deployed his battery
of horse artillery and commenced shelling. But that is as far as he went -
he never sent his men forward, either on horseback or on foot. He'd lost
his nerve only five miles from the center of Richmond. The cannonade
continued until mid-afternoon, by which time the Confederates had reinforced,
and Dahlgren still hadn't turned up. So, as he later reported, Kilpatrick
'reluctantly withdrew.'
He rested his men, and recovered some of his boldness. Now, even with
the alarm raised, he would launch a night attack and burst through the defenses
- except that he was attacked first. Wade Hampton's Confederate cavalry
had moved down and came on Kilpatrick's rear, which convinced him to head for
safety rather than trying anything bold. He headed east, sparring with
Hampton's men and local militia until he was convinced that Dahlgren's men had
failed, and he pulled back where the US Navy could protect (and evacuate) his
force.
Dahlgren had the worst problems. Things had gone fine until he reached
the James, which he was supposed to cross upstream of Richmond. But the
ford he was shown (by a young slave, Martin Robinson) was too deep because the
river was in flood. Dahlgren wasn't accustomed to independent command, and
panicked a bit - he thought this was a deliberate deception by Martin and hanged
him. He got over the river later, but the delay (and some other incidental
raiding that was just as foolish) meant he was too late when he heard
Kilpatrick's guns booming to the north. Furthermore, there were enough
Home Guards to stymie Dahlgren; he couldn't get to the city defenses before
Kilpatrick withdrew.
Dahlgren knew what to do; there were contingency plans in case things went
wrong. He headed for Fredericksburg in the gathering gloom of the winter
night. Exhausted by the trek, the force split, with 300 separating and
heading east (although ambushed, most of them would make it through to
Kilpatrick with the news). Dahlgren was down to about 200 men when and
WALKERTON they ran into Fitz Lee's cavalry. Dahlgren was killed in the
first volley and most of the remnant of his men killed or rounded up - some
flushed out of hiding by bloodhounds.
For Kilpatrick the results were minimal. About 300 men and over 1,000
horses were lost; none of the objectives of the raid were achieved - except for
the leaflets. Even this was a disappointment, because most of them were
dumped, still baled, rather than being spread around to do some good.
Their impact was minimal, largely because of papers that Dahlgren was
carrying. On breaking into Richmond he intended to halt his men and whip
them to a frenzy: 'burn the hateful city; and do not allow the rebel leader
Davis and his traitorous crew to escape. … once in the city it must be destroyed
and Jeff Davis and cabinet killed. Pioneers will go along with combustible
material.'
If Lincoln had been hoping to appeal to moderates, this gave fuel to Southern
hardliners, who paid little attention to Northern claims that it was only
Dahlgren's opinion, not government policy. The Dahlgren Papers were one of
the many small steps towards harsher war, regardless of the sometimes gentle
intentions of men at the top.
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