You, Me, and Ulysses S. Grant by Brad Neely

Author:Brad Neely [Neely, Brad]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Turner Publishing Company
Published: 2024-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Officers Only

APR. 5, 1862

AGE 40

WE BIOGRAPHERS CAN POINT TO OUR SELECTIONS AND SAY “Trust me, that’s the good shit, Lollipop.” But who’s to know if we know the true motives of our subjects? Other biographers? Or librarians getting high on their own supply? Nevertheless, us pros must agree on one thing: Ulysses was now famous. In the Bowery, Walt Whitman talked about him with sexual innovators. Emily Dickinson thought about him while wrapped in a sun-soaked linen curtain. Cases of cigars and whiskey were sent to him by well-wishers, angering Rawlins who was struggling to keep Grant’s drinking down.

U.S.G. had beaten the competing Western Generals to the big fame. He was now Major General God of the Dead , and he rode his new black behemoth, Golgozomoth, through the last wintry elements of the Tennessean Wilderness along with his monstrous, accumulating Army. And it felt good.

Yet, in the East … Capricorn was rising. Lee was eating Union Generals one after another. McClelland had quit before he gave Lee the chance to publicly humiliate him for a fiftieth time. He had taken forever to do nothing, missed opportunities, and fussed with Lincoln. Word on the street said he was going to run against his former boss in the next presidential election.

Halleck had indeed taken over in the George Washington top spot. He’d been painting pictures of realities that weren’t quite how they were, but which certainly showed how he needed them to be. He’d benefited from Grant’s work, and, to be fair, the guy spread as many favorable words about Ulysses as he did fatuous ones.

Our General knew it was only a matter of time before he was able to face Lee. It felt fated since long before. Lots of people wanted to see that matchup. Bull v. Goat in a head-to-head, one-on-one. Grant had dominated the Western Conference. Everyone thought he’d win MVP. It was in Halleck’s best interest to back him. Come fate or free will or diminishing option, Ulysses felt it was his destiny to face Lee in the last chapters of the Bible. He was that good. He knew it now. And he wanted the matchup.

Grant’s Army was so large, it was in many places even when it was said to be at one spot. The conglomerated forces were camped at different points along a dreadful creek full of frightened frozen fish and frogs in an area nicknamed Shiloh …

Having had the larders of a few local restaurants ransacked, Ulysses decided to throw a dinner for the Generals under his command, ostensibly to welcome them now that they had a moment to talk and discuss new strategies for securing the whole of Tennessee. In truth, he was strutting. He had ordered the longest table. The canvas of the dinner tent smoldered creamcicle from the inner candleglow. Outside were Grant’s private guard, a hand-selected outfit of ragtag Mad Max riffraff—mostly from the 21st—in black leather gloves hardened in the chilly evening air. He couldn’t be too careful, besides … he knew who was coming, and he was eager to make an impression with abundant regalia.

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