The Other Side of Lincoln. Welby Thomas Cox, Jr.

“The Anaconda Plan,” was sent to Lincoln’s friend General George McClellan. It called for a blockade of the Atlantic and Gulf ports and in connection with the blockade a military movement down the Mississippi River to the ocean. This methodology so designed to cordon the seaboard, envelope the insurgent states through the cessation of commerce resulting in surrender of the Confederacy with a minimal bloodshed.

      George McClellan was a conniving man, he leaked the plan to the press as he had taken credit for at least one battle in which he had minimal participation (The Battle of Rich Mountain). McClellan was thirty-five years old and thought the plan and the old man were out of step. He wanted something more grand and Napoleonic. But despite the undermining, Scott’s plan by any other name, the blockade of the southern ports and the control of the Mississippi by U.S. Grant who was to replace George McClellan who was a detractor of Grant at West Point, provided the ultimate basis for the economic and military defeat of the Confederacy.

      Of course McClellan also knew ostensively through either his friend Allen Pinkerton or directly from the President that General Scott had recommended fellow Virginian Robert E. Lee to lead the armies of the north. On April 18, 1861, Lee met with powerbroker, Frank Blair, Sr. who unofficially offered Lee the command.

      Born on January 19, 1807, in Stratford Hall, a plantation on the banks of the Potomac River in Virginia, Robert E. Lee descended from the line of Virginia Lees that had been among the countries most influential families. It was clear that he had the credentials and bloodlines to lead the nation’s military. One of his ancestors, Richard Henry Lee, issued the motion calling for independence at the Continental Congress in 1776. Another, Francis Lightfoot Lee, had signed the Declaration of Independence. Robert E. Lee’s father, Major General Henry “Lighthorse Harry” Lee had been one of General George Washington’s most accomplished cavalry officers and trusted aide. The man eulogized Washington as “first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.” He also served as Virginia’s governor and U. S. Congressman. A great soldier and apt politician, Henry Lee was like Grant and Lincoln...terrible businessmen but he was loyal to his friends in need and while helping a friend defend his printing presses against an angry mob, he was stabbed and left for dead. Broke, disfigured and crippled, Henry Lee was sent to Barbados by President James Monroe.

      Forced from the family home, Robert E. Lee lived with his mother’s family until he went to West Point, emerging second in his class. He later married Mary Anna Randolph Custis, a granddaughter of Martha Custis Washington, the wife of the first president, whose son by her first husband was adopted by Washington.

      After Virginia seceded from the Union, Lee was torn between duty and home. Declining Lincoln’s offer of command, Lee resigned his commission. In many ways Lee was like Lincoln in that he was a man of contradiction. He was personally opposed to slavery, even-though he was a part of the plantation aristocracy, he supported the preservation of the Union. But his deepest loyalty was to his native Virginia, his legacy, and love of his family. To Lee and others like him, unlike Lincoln... state meant more than country. Later, Lincoln admitted that this was a quality he could not understand...while professing loyalty to the Union, Lee broke his oath for the Confederacy, for which he would pay dearly.

      Two days after Lee resigned, Arlington House, the Custis family residence overlooking the Potomac was occupied by Union forces and General Irvin McDowell took the mansion as his headquarters and the estate was confiscated. In 1864 two hundred acres around Arlington House were set-aside as a military cemetery for the Union dead...later, Lee’s son received $150,000 as retribution for the taking of the property and it eventually became Arlington National Cemetery.

      Chapter 3: A Lifetime of Loving

       "What was the war really like?" A small child asked the flaming question

      Jess... Lenahan’s sway backed horse stood in the corner of the stall eyeing Lenahan in an evil fashion. He had heard the wind and felt it at his withers and now knew that the sight of Lenahan meant he was going to have to leave the comfort of the barn...before he had his cooked oats with a little black strap molasses. Lenahan picked up the bridle, saddle and blanket putting an end to old Jess’s daydream of spending another leisurely day in the barn munching around in the hay while looking forward to a ration of cooked oats. Lenahan took the blanket with one hand, placing it on the sway back, next he threw a thick pad on the sway back horse then the stock saddle on the blanket...Jess farted to demonstrate his disgust with the day’s activities, and looked around at Lenahan who said nothing in response to his ill-mannered horse. He had heard it before...you get to know a lot about a person... or a horse out on the trail. One thing Lenahan knew about old Jess...his farts smelled like shit!

      “Well at least it’s not raining, sleeting or snowing.” Leck said to Jess as though that should offer some sense of relief, as did the carrot for leaving the barn.

      Lenahan continued the saddling process; he slid his rifle into the holster along the ribs of the saddle, hung his canteen on the saddle horn, checked his revolvers attached to each side of the saddle, tied his saddle bags containing a few eats for the meals he was sure to miss and then inserted his army issue blanket into the rawhide loops on the back of the saddle.

      He pulled his very worn mink flop hat over his eyes, buttoned his travel worn army issue greatcoat buttons and stepped through the barn door with Jess in tow to a light snow mist. So much for the dry morning Lenahan thought as he stepped into the left stirrup and swung his long right leg over the hip of Jess and slipped his boot into the right stirrup. Jess felt the full 185 pounds with the extras and took a deep breath... when he exhaled through

      the bit of the bridle, he farted several times while walking off toward the road. If Jess could only talk, Lenahan would be in for a mouth full.

      Each of us has mannerisms which demonstrate our discontent, little personal traits setting us apart from those we are intending to impress. Jess had his as well.

      “Let it go Jess, I don’t blame you old fellow...sometimes life is just the shits.”

      Lenahan leaned in to the wind with his right shoulder. It was quite along the road, really quite beautiful Lenahan thought in a strange sort of way. He rode north toward the small town of St Mary’s where the Russell farm was located. He hoped the snow would cease by the time he got to the Russell’s place... or hell it may not. Early spring weather in Kentucky could be as ornery as old Jess in the morning.

      By horse, you could cover the distance from Raywick to St. Mary’s in less than an hour. This morning it was slightly over an hour because the wind and the snow had picked up. As Lenahan toped the hill to the Russell place his heart leaped at the sight of dark smoke coming from the barn area. My God Lenahan thought, some bodies gotten careless with the hay and Gabe’s got himself a real serious problem. There was no need to cluck to Jess... his trusted horse had instinctively picked up their speed making their way into the barnyard in a matter of minutes.

      “Something very strange here Jess” Lenahan said to the horse as Rags, the Russell dog howled away at Lenahan from the farmhouse porch.

      “Rags.” Lenahan yelled, but the dog continued his wailing.

      “Fire, Fire” Lenahan yelled at the top of his lungs to no one in particular as Jess pranced and nickered his displeasure with the smoke and heat rising from the barn area. Leck dismounted, and ran into the barn. He was alarmed that there was no response to his call from either of the Russell’s.

      Better get the stock out of the barn Lenahan thought...he moved swiftly and began to open the stall doors and pens to the relief of the frightened animals. Lenahan noted that the fire seemed to be contained at the back of the barn in a stack of loose hay and stall bedding...he ran toward the water pump catching a bucket along the way. At the pump he froze...there hanging partially in the trough was his friend Gabe Russell.

      “Gabe, Gabe.” Lenahan pulled his friend to the ground and in doing so he saw the pool of blood in the water and the large wound in the head of his friend. Gabe Russell was dead, gunshot to the head.

      Lenahan’s thoughts quickly ran to Russell’s