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To Make Men Free: A Novel of the Civil War, by Newt Gingrich, William R. Forstchen, Albert S. Hanser
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With To Make Men Free (originally published as The Battle of the Crater), New York Times bestselling authors Newt Gingrich and William R. Forstchen take readers to the center of a nearly forgotten Civil War confrontation, a battle that was filled with controversy and misinterpretation even before the attack began. June 1864: the Civil War is now into its fourth year of bloody conflict with no end in sight. James O'Reilly―famed artist, correspondent, and former companion of Lincoln―is summoned discreetly to a meeting with the President. His old friend gives him a difficult assignment: travel to the trenches outside of Richmond to be Lincoln's eyes and ears amongst the men, sending back an honest account of the front.
Meanwhile, General Ambrose Burnside, a hard luck commander out of favor with his superiors, has an ingenious plan to break through the closest point on the Confederate line by tunneling forward from the Union position beneath the fort to explode its defenses. The risks are high, and Burnside needs a brave division of the United States Colored Troops for one desperate rush that just might bring victory. As the battleground drama unfolds, this must-read work rewrites our understanding of one of the great battles of the war, providing a sharp, rousing and harshly realistic view of politics and combat during the darkest year of the Civil War.
Praise for the works of Newt Gingrich and William R. Forstchen
"Masterful storytelling." --William E. Butterworth IV, New York Times bestselling author of The Saboteurs
"Compelling narrative force and meticulous detail." --The Atlanta Journal Constitution
- Sales Rank: #1180750 in Books
- Brand: Brand: Thomas Dunne Books
- Published on: 2012-05-08
- Released on: 2012-05-08
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.50" h x .89" w x 5.50" l, .76 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 400 pages
- Used Book in Good Condition
Review
“Masterful storytelling.” ―William E. Butterworth IV, New York Times bestselling author of The Saboteurs, on Pearl Harbor
“Creative, clever, and fascinating.” ―James Carville on Gettysburg
“Compelling narrative force and meticulous detail.” ―The Atlanta Journal Constitution on Gettysburg
“Gingrich and Forstchen write with authority and with sensitivity.” ―St. Louis Post Dispatch on Gettysburg
“Grim, gritty, realistic, accurate, and splendid, this is a soaring epic of triumph over almost unimaginable odds.” ―Library Journal on To Try Men's Souls
“With each book… Gingrich and Forstchen have gone from strength to strength as storytellers.” ―William Trotter, The Charlotte Observer, on Never Call Retreat
“The authors' research shines in accurate accounts of diplomatic maneuvering as well as the nuts-and-bolts of military action.” ―Publishers Weekly on Pearl Harbor
“The writing is vivid and clear.” ―Washington Times on Gettysburg
About the Author
NEWT GINGRICH, former Speaker of the House and Presidential candidate, is the bestselling author of Gettysburg and Pearl Harbor and the longest serving teacher of the Joint War Fighting Course for Major Generals at Air University and is an honorary Distinguished Visiting Scholar and Professor at the National Defense University. He resides in Virginia with his wife, Callista, with whom he hosts and produces documentaries, including "A City Upon A Hill."
WILLIAM R. FORSTCHEN, Ph.D., is a Faculty Fellow at Montreat College in North Carolina. Forstchen's doctoral dissertation on the 28th USCT was one of the first in depth studies of a USCT regiment.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER ONEARLINGTON, VIRGINIAJUNE 6, 1864THE ESTATE OF GENERAL ROBERT E. LEEDAWN
“Here they come, parson.”
Sergeant Major Garland White, 28th United States Colored Troops, turned from his labors and looked to where Jeremiah Smith, a private from Company A, was pointing north to the road leading down from the “Iron Bridge” across the Potomac.
It had been raining most of the night, a slow steady drenching downpour out of the east. It had done little to drop the temperature and now added to the misery of the men of the 28th who had been out toiling by lantern light since midnight. The Potomac was concealed beneath coiling fog and mists rising up from the river, shrouding the capital city on the opposite shore.
The first of a long line of ambulances, emerging out of the mists, was drawn by two mules, ghostlike in the morning light, followed by another and another, mud splashing up from the hooves of the mules and the wheels of the wagons.
“Back to it, Jeremiah. I want it dug straight.”
“Ain’t no difference, parson, we be filling it back up shortly.”
He put a fatherly hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder, guiding him back to the hole, seven feet by three and supposedly six feet deep.
“It’s not parson, it’s sergeant major now,” Garland said. “Do as you are ordered; back down there you go.”
Jeremiah looked at him sullenly, as Garland released his hold on Jeremiah and reached down to lend a hand to Private Thompson, who had finished his half hour stint in the hole.
“Come on, Willie, take a quick break, there’s hot coffee under the tarp.” He helped the private, covered head to foot in warm clinging mud, out of the ground and pointed to where the regimental cooks had ten-gallon vats of the brew waiting.
“Thank ya, Reverend … I mean, Sergeant Major, sir.”
“I’m a sergeant major, not a sir, save that for … the officers.” He almost said, “your boss man,” but caught himself.
Taking Willie’s shovel, he handed it to Jeremiah and helped him slip down into the hole.
“Hurry it up, men,” Garland announced, stepping back, his voice carrying to the rest of the regiment. “They’re almost here, and I want this done right and proper now.”
“Sergeant Major, damn it, it’s like trying to shovel out the Wabash River.”
Garland turned, struggling to control his anger as he gazed down at Corporal Turner in the next hole over. He bent over at the waist, fixing the corporal with an icy gaze.
“Corporal Turner,” he hissed, voice pitched low, remembering it was not proper to reprimand another noncommissioned officer in front of the men, or the officers for that matter. “I will not tolerate profanity in my presence. Next, I will not tolerate profanity on this ground, which is consecrated and…”
He hesitated.
“Damn it, I will not tolerate beefing from someone who is supposed to lead. If you don’t like that, Corporal, you can climb out of there right now, take off those two stripes, and I’ll find someone else to wear them.”
He gazed down at the mud-drenched corporal.
“Do I make myself clear, Corporal, or is it Private?”
“Yes, Sergeant Major.”
“You can stay down there and keep digging until I tell you different.”
Turner said nothing, though the next shovelful up, containing more water than muddy earth, landed within inches of Garland’s feet.
Garland turned away and noticed that young Lieutenant James Grant was looking his way. The lieutenant gave a nod of approval and turned away, going back under the tarpaulin where the officers of the regiment had gathered while the men labored.
Grant had wanted to “dig in” with the rest of the men of his company. As the detail started their labors in the pouring rain, however, Garland heard Colonel Charles Russell, commander of their regiment, restraining Grant, saying that this was an enlisted man’s job, besides, the lieutenant had to keep his uniform relatively unspoiled for the brief ceremony which would commence in a few minutes. Grant was a good man, a three-year veteran of the war, who at heart still acted as if he were a sergeant. He led by example and Garland deeply respected him for that, even though he was not much more than a lad of twenty.
He left Turner’s hole, and continued down the long line—a long line of seventy-one graves.
Seventy-one graves for seventy-one men—men who had died the previous day in the dozen military hospitals that ringed the city of Washington. Seventy-one graves for men wounded in the grueling campaign, which had started exactly one month ago today, on May 6th. Seventy-one graves for men transported back across rutted roads and aboard hospital ships from the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, the North Anna, and according to the newspaper reports, a new battlefield just six miles short of Richmond at a place called Cold Harbor. Graves for men who had survived all that, only to die in Washington and now be buried here.
Garland’s regiment had come to this city from Indianapolis at the beginning of May. Five months of training had prepared them for combat, for battles that every last man of them longed for, a chance to prove themselves, a chance to show that they were of the same blood as their comrades with the 54th Massachusetts. They wanted to show that they were as worthy of the honor of serving as any other citizen, white or black, and that they were therefore worthy of the rights of freemen.
Across the cold months of drills during their winter of recruitment and mobilization back in Indiana, Garland had joined their ranks as the “parson,” but had soon earned the coveted chevrons of a sergeant major, the highest rank a colored man could hold in this army. In their nightly prayer services, he had dwelled again and again on Psalm 91, calling it the soldier’s psalm, and entreated his men to memorize it to prepare themselves for the battles to come. He had promised them battle, and they were eager for it, as ready as any regiment had ever been.
On the day they arrived in Washington, he had still promised it. They detrained and marched down Pennsylvania Avenue to the cheers of the colored in the city and many of the white folks as well.
And then they had been marched here, to this place called Arlington, the plantation once owned by General Lee. Muskets had been stacked, they had been handed shovels, and told to dig—not fortifications, but graves.
He had cajoled them, told them that to do this fittingly was an honor while they waited for the call to join the army on the front lines. That was a month ago—a long month of a dreadful routine. Each evening a telegram would be sent over, informing the colored troops of this and of two other regiments stationed here how many graves were to be dug during the night, in preparation for the funeral train of mule-drawn ambulances that would arrive at dawn.
The digging was done during the night so that this grisly task and the horrific numbers could at least in some way be concealed. That had been obvious to all of them. Bring the dead out quietly; put them in the ground quietly. The number this morning was typical, not as bad as the week after the Wilderness, when the daily number had been a hundred or more. Tonight was seventy-one graves, a typical night for those who died in Washington, and only one regiment, his regiment, had drawn the detail. Only the good Lord knew how many were being buried up on the front lines. There were rumors afloat that three days ago, up in front of Richmond, it had numbered in the thousands.
Once the graves were filled and covered over, the men would be paraded back to their barracks. First, clean the mud-drenched uniforms, then breakfast. Most of the men of Garland’s regiment had been freemen living around Indianapolis when the regiment was mobilized last December and were used to hard labor. As for those who had escaped from bondage, the labor was typical of any day in slavery, but a breakfast of fried salt pork, grits, fresh bread or hardtack, and coffee, real coffee—not the slave brew of chickory and various roots—was an absolute luxury. But for men who had trained for and had expected war, morale was at rock bottom.
After breakfast they would be allowed six hours of sleep, then fall out for inspection, and a few hours drill. Then the next telegram would arrive, reporting how many graves were to be dug that night. Muskets would be exchanged for shovels and picks, and then they would march down to what had once been the front lawn of Robert E. Lee’s family home.
The rain came down in a steady, warm flow; not at all refreshing. Rivulets of muddy water were pouring off the piled-up earth by each grave, following the laws of gravity, and thus flowing over the lips of the graves and cascading onto the drenched kepis, upturned collars, and backs of the laboring men.
Their regimental commander, Colonel Russell, stood with the other officers; he was silent beneath a vast tarpaulin, sagging with the weight of wet canvas. Occasionally one of the company commanders would step out to walk down the line, offering a few words of encouragement, and then retreat back to cover.
Fog had concealed the ambulances, but Garland knew they were drawing closer. They only had minutes left to complete their tasks, and the moment he dreaded came as General Meigs, commander of the garrison of Washington, emerged out of the coiling mist. He was coming down from General Lee’s mansion, followed by several of his staff. The men behind him sat hunched over in their saddles with hat brims pulled low against the easterly breeze, which carried the lashing rain.
Meigs slowed as he weaved his way past the mounds of hundreds of graves that had...
Most helpful customer reviews
36 of 43 people found the following review helpful.
Gingrich & Forstchen add so much color, emotion, and horror...
By Thomas Duff
When it comes to adding "color" to a historical event, I don't do a great job in my mind. I can read a paragraph spanning weeks or months of history, and that's as far as my mind takes it. I miss the pain, suffering, glory, and everything else that actually occurred. It's for this reason that a good historical fiction novel can open my eyes and help me understand some event on a much deeper emotional level. Newt Gingrich and William R. Forstchen are masters of the historical fiction genre, and they once again hit a home run with their new novel Battle of the Crater. I was offered an advance reader copy of the book, and was blown away by the raw emotion that Gingrich and Forstchen add to the Civil War battle also referred to as the Battle of the Mine Explosion (depending on what side of the conflict you were on).
Battle of the Crater focuses on a battle that occurred on July 30th, 1864 during the Civil War. Northern and Southern troops were faced off outside of Petersburg, Virginia. The South had to hold the line, as a break there would likely allow the North to take Petersburg and Richmond and end the war. They were dug into trenches and had a fortress (Fort Pegram) that was well situated to hold their position and break the siege. A plan was devised and presented to Major General Burnside that was audacious in its effort and scope. A group of soldiers who were also miners would tunnel under the open battlefield, ending up under the fort. They would pack the mine full of explosives and blow a hole in the Confederate line, followed by an immediate charge of black soldiers who would be trained especially for this operation. In the course of a few short hours, they could take Petersburg and Richmond and deal the death blow to Lee's army.
Of course, what is planned and what happens are two different stories.
Crater tells the story of this battle from the primary perspective of one James O'Reilly, an Irish sketch artist who works for Harper's Weekly to report on the war. He's also very close friends with Lincoln, as Lincoln gave him a job in his law office when O'Reilly first came over to the States. Lincoln trusts him deeply, and asks O'Reilly to report back to him on what he sees on the battlefront, free of any political slant or agenda. O'Reilly sees it all... the suicide charges by the North, killing thousands of soldiers in minutes... the death of his brother... the dedication of the black soldiers who have the need to prove that they are worthy of full citizenship in the US. Most importantly, he is there as the political gamesmanship and egotism between Burnside and Major General Meade turn the battle plan into chaos, leading to the massacre of thousands of troops and the devastating defeat of the Union army in that battle. Even though Meade changed all the plans and caused the attack to fail, Burnside is held responsible for not taking charge, disregarding orders, and responding to the evolving situation. Burnside is relieved of his command in an inquiry after the events, and it's apparent that the decision on who to blame has already been made. Even with O'Reilly making a plea to Lincoln to correct what is a miscarriage of justice, the decision stands as it's the most politically efficient way to deal with the loss.
Gingrich and Forstchen take the factual details of what happened at Petersburg and add the color, emotion, and horror of war. They paint a vivid picture of the squalor behind the lines, the agony of battle injuries, and the hopelessness of the soldiers rushing into what they know to be suicide. The arrogance of the leaders is also apparent, from how many commanded their troops from a distance, to how each step was often considered more from a political angle than a battle strategy. Most importantly, they highlight the role of the black soldiers in the North, how they had to overcome the discrimination and racial barriers to be considered the equal of their fellow soldiers on the battlefield, and how regardless of how well they did, they still ended up unfairly shouldering a significant amount of blame for the loss. This additional color and nuance are what I miss when I read the stark details of the battle on a site like Wikipedia. There, I learn about the event. In Battle of the Crater, I live the battle.
I'm not a Civil War historian or scholar, so I can't tell you whether the small details of the book are completely accurate. With the passing of time, history is interpreted and shaped, and everyone has theories as to what exactly happened and who was to blame. You may not agree with particular motivations or how things supposedly happened behind the scenes. But for me, Battle of the Crater is an outstanding book, both for historical detail and bringing to life what it was like to be a soldier in the Civil War. Perhaps if more people would take the time to read books like this, we as a society would be far more reluctant to rush off to battle and sacrifice our youth in wars that are not fought to be won, but to make generals look good.
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Obtained From: Publicist
Payment: Free
12 of 16 people found the following review helpful.
Could be a great movie!
By Sierra Foothills
Once again, Newt Gingrich and Bill Forstchen collaborate to weave another best seller historical novel, The Battle of the Crater. The title conjures up images of large holes in the ground, but where and how? The authors chronicle the build up to and the terrifying consequences of a little known American Civil War battle between units of the Union and Confederate Armies.
Centered in the Eastern Theatre of action in Virginia and the battle for Petersburg, a key stronghold of the South protecting the confederate capital, Richmond. The novel focuses on a young man from Ireland, James Reilly, who is thrust into the war as an illustrator for Harper's Weekly, a New York based magazine that featured political cartoons, illustrations and news of the day.
Reilly has long had an association with Abraham Lincoln, first as a young law office assistant for Lincoln, and later as a confidant for the President reporting his observations and drawings of battles. Reilly notes that men of the Union Army, fearing death, pinned hand written notes to their shirts so they might be identified following a battle. They seldom were.
The novel introduces the USCT, United States Colored Troops, thousands of black soldiers fighting for the North who were trained for a special mission involving an intricate tunnel designed to deliver explosives under the rebel fort, to pierce and divide the defenses of the South. The men who designed and constructed the tunnel were a mining engineer and experienced coal miners from Pennsylvania. They used their experience with mining tools such as a theodolite, a survey instrument designed to provide information about angles and distances. Few other essential tools were provided, but the digging continued. The idea was novel, and in a perfect world, might have worked.
The tunnel digging was colorfully detailed. Cave-ins, construction of the ventilation shafts, and the sheer magnitude of the operation was carefully described. In contrast, the storyline continued with several paragraphs from the confederate point of view. They thought they heard voices and coughing from beneath the soil. They nervously suspected a tunnel was being dug under their feet. After about a month of digging with inadequate equipment and faulty explosive, the fuse was finally lit in the very early hours on July 30, 1864. Nothing happened. After some time, as they suspected, the fuse was flawed and volunteers crawled into the tunnel to relight the fuse. When the blast finally occurred, hundreds of confederate soldiers were killed and a gaping crater cut through the South's stronghold.
The Union battle preparation is filled with heroics, courage, command stupidity and most of all, the lack of communication. At the last minute, the black soldiers, well trained for the mission, were replaced by white, untrained troops. Major General George Meade, the apathetic overall commander of the operation, had doubt in the black soldiers ability and feared that if the operation failed, he would be accused of wanting to "get rid of the blacks." The 9th Corps of USCT were given a reserve role. That decision would prove to be a fatal error.
Instead of charging ahead, the replacement white unit fell back. Finally, some slowly walked forward in a highly disorganized fashion. It was like a bad dream for the North. Meanwhile, the trained 9th Corps were enraged at the sight of the panicked white soldiers before them. After hours of confusion, the South, under good leadership, surrounded the rapidly collapsing attack by the North. Slaughter was at hand, blacks murdered, whites murdered, like shooting fish in a barrel.
This battle, like so many, illustrated the frustration on both sides and the war continued.
Unlike many novels, painted with a broad brush and leaving the reader's imagination to fill in the cracks, Gingrich and Forstchen paint with a fine brush, filling in detail that might otherwise be missed. Their rich description of events would make for a wonderful screen play. The description of the training of the black troops provide the reader with all the emotion, frustration and reality of the real event. The frequent interludes with James Reilly flesh out the story. History can't be changed, but the story, told with exacting care, is a great read.
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11 of 15 people found the following review helpful.
Fast, thrilling, and true: one of their best
By Ralph Willington
The Battle of the Crater is Gingrich and Forstchen's fourth historical novel on the Civil War, and the first that is not a "what-if" or "alternative" history--but it is also one of their very best.
The Battle of the Crater is the heroic story of the largest combat deployment of African American troops in the Civil War. The 28th Indiana regiment was composed largely of freemen born in the north, who volunteered to fight at a time in the war when it was increasingly difficult to recruit white soldiers to the Union war effort. The regiment was highly trained for a top-secret, spec ial mission concocted by miners from Pennsylvania who dug under a Confederate fort in order to blow it up from below. The story of these men is inspiring, heroic, and tragic, as bickering in the highest ranks of the Union army results in last-minute changes that lead to disaster.
Gingrich's and Forstchen's training as two historians with Ph.D.' s shines through, with fascinating and often jarring details that drive home the incredible horror of the war as well as the sacrifice that so many made. When we see, in the first chapter, soldiers pinning their names addresses to their backs in advance of a perilous charge, we understand the human dimensions of history in ways we cannot through history books. And when we meet Abraham Lincoln in an hour of self-doubt and political vulnerability, we begin to grasp something of the personal trials he faced as he tried to restore the union.
The story itself is told through the eyes of James Reilly, an illustrator for Harpers Weekly, one of the most important magazines of the time, who has an additional, secret mission when he is on the front lines of battle observing the for his sketches. Perfectly placed to provide honest reports revealing the true state of the war his magazine attempts to rose-up, Reilly doubles as a correspondent for someone else--someone at the highest levels in Washington.
Battle of the Crater is a fast, well-written book that tells one of the great, untold tragedies lost in American history. That it can be so thrilling while remaining based on historical fact is a testament both to the authors' skill as storytellers and to the bravery of the men who undertook one of the most ambitious missions of the war.
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