I read, on the LBHA forum, of a new book that claims Custer was the winner of Gettysburg, Savior of the Union, that this is a new theory, that Gettysburg is now ‘explained’ for the first time.  It’s written by a close facsimile of a Custerphile, and I’ve long been certain that books on Custer, or at least the Little Bighorn, can be reviewed without reading them.  So let me review it without reading it.

 

A Review of A Book I Haven’t Ever Read!

 

 

LOST TRIUMPH: LEE'S REAL PLAN AT GETTYSBURG — AND WHY IT FAILED. By Tom Carhart. Putnam. 272 pages. $25.95. 

Let me start with another review of this work by someone else who, like myself, apparently hasn’t read the book either, a Jack Lessenberry of the Toledo Blade.  I say this because there are no citations that indicate the binding was opened beyond flyleaf logrolling reviews from friends of the author and wowser catch phrases from the Putnam publicity interns.  So while credit is assumed that the phrases are the previous reviewer’s, I’m willing to bet these are just précis of the brag sheet that accompanied the book.

 

“If author Tom Carhart is correct, this is the most important book written about Gettysburg in decades — and perhaps ever.”  Gee, I’d go so far as to say right off that is world-class, letter-sweater moronic on its face, given the many first hand accounts available to cover “ever” and the utter lack of any new fact discovered since the battle itself.  “It is also bound to be terribly controversial.”  In your dreams, Putnam.  But here’s the bellyache.  “No battle in American history has been studied as thoroughly as this one…..”  Ahem.

 

One of the great amusements of Custerland, and this book will successfully breach that sugary gate given the foaming lust of his fanatics, is that reading or merely amassing tons of glowing tributes to Custer is ‘research’ and denotes ‘study.’  This is especially weak given that most Custerphiles are remarkably ill read on history in general, tending to memorization of battle dates in aggregate with weapon and uniform trivia, and successful conversation does not dare stray far from his personal appeal, qualities, and attractions.

 

This curious blinkered gaze is shared with “study” of the American Civil War in general, where for a century and a half, an unappetizing amount of work has been done by Miniver Cheevys and those given to detailed analysis of uniforms.  When combined with the bitter works of southerners, vets and not, and the grandiose hogwash of northerners, vets and not, seeking to justify or inflate their roles, or the nobility of their cause, or merely to associate themselves with great events, a substantial amount of what has been written about Gettysburg barely rises to the level of the Glurge category of the Snopes.com site.   To call it idiotic hero worship or melodramatic claptrap is to be kind.

 

But to the point, I expect every battle from the Second World War to the present has been studied by actual historians and scholars with more tangible evidence than Gettysburg has ever been able to offer, if we’re to keep this on a professional or even a literate level.  I hold there to be a difference between “written about” and “actually studied” as I do between “history” and “stories about.”   That doesn’t make many slap their foreheads in a Eureka moment, but read the Custer forums here and here and note how easily – too easily – conversation seamlessly passes from history to fiction in print or cinema, the discussion of which dreamy actor should play which soldier, the abject homoeroticism of some of the Custerphiles, fully evidenced by the sales of the Boy General prints, some of which slither into imagined scenes. 

 

“…and serious students of the Civil War are bound to roll their eyes when they hear his theory of who the real hero was: Gen. George Armstrong Custer, the pride of Monroe, Mich., who is today mainly remembered for the utter disaster at the Little Big Horn.”  Hard to discern what makes up a “serious” student of the Civil War, but anyone who toes that line isn’t going to roll their eyes, because any serious student has run across this theory long before, and not a few have agreed.  It’s neither new, nor entirely true, nor particularly exciting.  But that Putnam, the author, and the previous reviewer would allow this to be said shows for whom the book is actually written: the wannabe, the half-read, the easily awed.

Evidence of the author’s unfamiliarity with Custer or the battle is now revealed.  “It seems very reasonable to say that at Gettysburg, Custer truly saved the Union….No, this might not be the kind of man you would want to have in your home for a quiet dinner, but thank God he was there when this nation’s survival hung in the balance.” 

Difficult to know where to begin.  Custer was a sharp, witty man who liked to talk and was charming enough to impress dignitaries and foreign royalty, not an easily impressed or forgiving audience, but easily bored.  Custer kept up on current events and could talk about any number of subjects not military.  It is highly unlikely that high royalty of the Russian court would be turned over to an unsophisticated lout by our government for sustained contact when Russian and Alaskan issues were ripe.  

 

No doubt, when younger and drinking, he could be mistaken for any young soldier.  But Custer was a social climber and ambitious and rose to all occasions.  Save one, of course.

 
My predecessor at the reviewing lamp, no doubt following suggested review topics and chapter headings, continues.  “Everyone knows, or thinks they know, that the normally brilliant Gen. Robert E. Lee made a terrible mistake on the third day of the battle, July 3, 1863.”  Many do, because he did, buttressed by the opinion of Longstreet, Pickett, and others, and Lee’s own statements to returning troops “it’s all my fault.”  Which, you know, I’d hold wraps that up. 

 

He continues.  “That’s when he ordered ‘Pickett’s Charge,’ when thousands of rebels were mowed down by artillery fire and Union rifles in what proved to be a suicidal attack against a stone wall over more than a mile of open field….That moment has become legendary as the “high water mark of the Confederacy” and the turning point of the Civil War.”  Actually, Gettysburg was never as important as Vicksburg, fought at the same time, but was closer to the newspapers of note.   Pickett’s charge had a certain sense to it, but because of Lee’s already huge losses, he gave Longstreet command of other men’s units for a charge with which Longstreet did not agree uphill against superior numbers. 

 

Had Lee not fought that third day at all, and Meade had retreated and the mountains of Union forces against Lee had focused on the Army of Northern Virginia, Lee still would have had to retreat: his army was shattered by the fighting of the first two days, and still had the ammo, clothing, and food issues he’d had on arrival.

 

“Portrayed most vividly in Ted Turner’s 1993 movie Gettysburg, the doomed charge makes Lee look like a hapless, dreamy medieval romantic.”  As portrayed in Turner’s crappy, embarrassing movie, yes, but as portrayed in the remarkable novel it was based upon which it thoroughly insulted (The Killer Angels), Lee was a recent heart attack survivor, exhausted, and given to do what had worked before, all fact.  Lee is grossly over-rated because it reduces the need to point out what terrible generals he had faced previous to the newly elevated George Meade, men in charge of armies that often dwarfed Lee’s, had better everything, yet were continually beaten and humiliated.   Winner generals all find much to praise about the defeated foe, because it makes them look better to history.  Yamamoto and Lee are prime examples. 

 

Further, Lee had just lost his partly insane but marvelously aggressive Stonewall Jackson, had rearranged his Army, and was short of basics, like shoes, and food and clothing, which are the appetites that brought him to Gettysburg.

It is announced that author Tom Carhart, “a lawyer, Vietnam veteran, and historian for the Army, makes a persuasive case that we’ve never understood what really happened on that fateful day. He believes that Pickett’s Charge was only half the story and that as it was being launched, Jeb Stuart, the famed Confederate cavalry officer, was supposed to crash into the Union forces from behind.”  But we’ve always known that.  The reviewer and most Custerphile readers miss the author’s apparent point, which is that THEY haven’t understood what has been taught and stated all along.  Historians have.  There is nothing new there. 

 

To think otherwise is to suppose that Lee had no plans for that part of the Army not involved in Longstreet’s action that day, or that the cavalry of six thousand would not figure in the plans of the Commanding General.  But we’ve always known it did, and we’ve always known the standard hope of these generals that their cavalry could get in the rear of their enemy and disrupt and capture and wreak havoc.  Cavalry charges against organized infantry being generally suicidal those days, in major battles they ended up fighting each other under the theory they could chase the panicked infantry off the field on a winning day.   So while Lee may have hoped, he could hardly have expected it to work.  It did so seldom.

 

Who didn’t know any of this?  Most who visit or read about the Civil War know there was a separate cavalry action east of Gettysburg.   Decades ago, a book praising Custer was written called East of Gettysburg which pointed out much the same, obvious issues.

Jeb Stuart, leader of the southern cavalry, had months before this battle been surprised in an action that had embarrassed the over-praised, chinless, and predictably vain southern general.  When Lee went north to excite the affections of the Foreign Office in London, Stuart was to protect the right flank, keep Lee informed, and be available.  What happened was that Stuart tried to repeat his gimmick of riding around the enemy forces, pillaging and stealing, being ever so dashing and romantic and demonstrative of superior Southern chivalry and returning to a Triumph parade.  He arrived at Gettysburg late, tired, and spent, albeit with some loot.  Not quite useless, but not a fully ready bunch either.  He had taken three of the seven cavalry brigades for his romp.  Lee had four of them, and that they were not used correctly to obtain recon info speaks to a further failure of Lee’s, not Stuart.

 

The reviewer, and likely the handy promo, continues.  “Had that happened, the South would have won the battle, and most likely the war, right there. We would have become two nations, and who can say how world history would have played out afterwards.”  Indeed.  Who?

 

But, problems.  First, the Union had reserves upon reserves that had not seen combat and were ready to go with more on the way and more available.  But, wait……  “Stuart‘s 6,000 mounted solders were blocked by the man who Carhart sees as the real hero of Gettysburg, George Armstrong Custer, who stopped him cold with, at first, no more than 400 or so members of the First Michigan Cavalry, crying “Come on, you Wolverines!” to rally his men.”  This leads the unwary to believe there was a battle of 400 against 6000, which didn’t happen.   This is, in fact, a gross oversimplification of a series of charges involving horse artillery by the Union, under Gregg (Custer’s commander), against the exhausted Stuart, who in turn fought badly as exhausted soldiers can.  A remarkable action by Custer, no doubt, who led several charge and counter-charges himself, and the Union cavalry was outnumbered, but by an exhausted foe nearly beaten already.

Here we go.  “Why was none of this known before? Some of it was, but it was never previously realized how important Custer’s first stand was, or what Lee was trying to do. To some extent, Jeb Stuart’s failure to get past a Union cavalry force that was less than half the size of his own remains a mystery.”  Ah, yes.  The mystery of how exhausted forces can be beaten badly by fresh, if lesser, foes.  Go figure.  Actually, the Rebels had about 6 to 7000 cavalry available, the Union 5k.    A bigger mystery is why so many rebel soldiers cowered in the sunken road and didn’t actually make Pickett’s Charge, and escaped unpunished.  That’s another, unproven theory based on scanty pieces of evidence in aggregate with supposition and testimony.

 

What is known is that Union artillery was excellent and accurate and the Confederate’s was terrible and badly used.  In this fight, rebel shells exploded early among its own, while Union batteries were terribly efficient.  This does not discount Custer’s bravery or remarkable charge, but it is an exaggeration to credit the cavalry alone, much less one man, for the victory.

“The author, however, has worked hard to piece together scanty bits of evidence that demonstrate that Robert E. Lee engaged in a massive cover-up of the ‘sterling military image and reputation’ Stuart enjoyed.”  Scanty bits of evidence are handier to fabricate than edify, but none of this is new and was referenced in The Killer Angels and early history books.  But the reviewer, as the author and publicity department, pants on.  Why would Lee do that, take the blame on behalf of Stuart?

The author apparently concludes “The reputation of any of his veterans was more important to Lee than his own….He was a mature man who was comfortable with himself and his decisions, and he didn’t care what other people thought of him. He just didn’t care.”  Odd, then, that he was a vain clotheshorse, a politician of note in his dealings with the often drunk Confederate government.  He cared very much about his reputation, and worked hard to build relationships with his disparate and often quite strange senior officers.  He worked to keep their morale up.  Good commanders do, as they realize that the failures and victories of his officers are his own.

 

More confusingly, Stuart - and all other officers in turn - was blamed in the Richmond papers, almost right off.  It was no secret.  And the cavalry battle was so well enough known and regarded it was featured in They Died With Their Boots On in 1941, so I fail to see the supposed secret now revealed.

Our reviewer continues.  “How far out are Carhart’s conclusions? Suffice it to say that his diligence in meticulously assembling a persuasive body of evidence has convinced the man who is perhaps today’s leading Civil War historian, James M. McPherson.”  That’s probably because nothing revealed so far could vary from boilerplate assumptions of any CW historians, including McPherson. 

“No historian before has pieced together the whole story,” McPherson says in the forward, we’re told. “Given the vast number of writings on Gettysburg, it seems impossible to come up with new information and new insights about the battle. But Tom Carhart has done it.”  Please.  No historian will ever have the “real” story, and it is not probable that cavalry was expected beyond precedent and rational hope to do what had not occurred yet in the last two years, play a key role in routing a rival army. 

 

Of course, I haven’t read the book.  But I’m willing to bet the evidence is squishy, and over interpreted to prove something not all that important for plan that has long been known.  “New information” can be quite trivial, and of the sort that, while technically true, didn’t lead to the “new insights” promised, which might be bizarre and new to few. 

 

But let me provide more evidence, this from a review on Amazon for the book.  Spelling is as it is.  So, I know he means Longstreet when he says Longhurst, and Custer for Custard.

 

That verdict is this: Lee's plan for the Battle of Gettysburg was grand in scope, precise in detail and absolute in purpose. Had it succeeded, the South would have then and there won the war. The plan was worthy of Lee's genius and consistent with his history of battlefield accomplishments. It was essentially a merger of the strategies used by Hannibal at Cannae in 216 B.C. and Napoleon at Castiglione in 1796, two stunning victories by outnumbered generals that General Lee (and Tom Carhart) studied at West Point. The plan entailed a three point attack on the entrenched Northern line consisting of Longhurst engaging the Union's left wing and Ewell renewing his attack from the right at Culp's Hill. This would freeze the federal troops, while Pickett charged up the middle in a wedge formation designed to split the Northern line. The key to Pickett's success, the maneuver that would prevent Pickett's charge from being a suicidal massacre, (and the stratagem discovered and disclosed by Carhart) was a simultaneous, rear-end attack on Cemetery Hill by Jeb Stuart's cavalry. Once the Northern lines were broken, Lee stood ready to pour his reserves into the breech. But Longhurst was reluctant and Stuart was deterred and the result disastrous for Lee.

 
The key to the Northern victory at Gettysburg was the movement that prevented Stuart from sweeping the right wing. This battle in East Calvary Field, a minor skirmish really, becomes epic when the true stakes are viewed in light of Lee's overall plan. If Stuart succeeds, the North is doomed. And Stuart would have succeeded except for the personal bravery and inspiring leadership of the true unsung hero of Gettysburg - George Armstrong Custard. This is the amazing story that swiftly unfolds in Carhart's deft hands, what Professor McPherson astutely labeled the whole story.

 

It’s more amazing in what author and reviewer thinks about the Union army.  Lee knew no more than any other West Pointer, and one remains puzzled by the fascination with Hannibal and Napoleon.  Hitting the enemy from two sides doesn’t quite strike children in snowball fights as particularly insightful or brilliant, and given that armies fought in phalanx back in the Punic Wars, once an army was surrounded, it could only fight its outer lines, not remotely true in 1865.   Napoleon’s secret in 1796 was having a lousy opponent.  Quick!  Name impressive Hapsburg/Austrian victories against formidable opponents!  Ever……..

 

Yet again, a straw dog, a false mystery, and over-inflated importance to a historic action that deceives rather than illuminates, and sets common sense against melodramatic and unjustified conclusion.

 

If I ever read it and I’m wrong, I’ll cheerfully admit it.  But I doubt I am.  That’s the reality of Custerland.