The Timorous May Stay at Home

The above is a Judge Cardozo quotation, but it applies with equal force to what happened at a creek called Antietam on 17 September 1862.

Geo. McClellan, through one of history’s truly great turns of fortune, is supplied with Robt Lee’s plan of campaign, and runs him to ground outside Sharpsburg.  As was almost always the case on all fields in the war, the federals outnumbered the confederates by a significant margin, and as was also always the case when the chief federal was McClellan, he thought exactly the opposite.  So McClellan holds roughly a full quarter of his force in reserve that day.  Lee is cut off from his base of supply, with his only avenues of retreat over a deep-water river (the Potomac), and McClellan can’t bring himself to throw the Big Punch.  Even if Lee had badly whipped him, Lee’s army would have been as disrupted by the victory as McClellan’s by the defeat (a dynamic that Ludendorff found was still true in March-April, 1918), and an army in hostile territory with no reliable re-supply does one thing in those circumstances:  it falls back on its bases and reorganizes.  All of which is to say that whatever the tactical outcome of the battle (barring a battle of annihilation, which seldom occurs on land other than a complete encirclement as in Cannae, Tannenberg, or Stalingrad), the strategic outcome would have been the same.  Lee’s invasion would have been at an end.  One can’t help feeling that Grant or Sherman would have recognized the strategic implications and fought the battle accordingly.

Even within the setting of the battle, there shines one blundering commander, from whom more was — unfortunately — to be heard later.  Ambrose Burnside on the federal left, with over 12,000 men and several dozen guns, was given the task of crossing Antietam Creek on the confederate right, punching through the confederates atop the bluff overlooking the creek, and swinging in behind the main body.  This was later in the day, after Lee had denuded his right to reinforce his center and left during the day’s earlier action, and so there were scarcely 3,000 confederates and a handful of guns to oppose the crossing.  Burnside sees a bridge, and everyone knows you cross creeks over bridges, right?  So he spends three hours sending units to cross that bridge and get cut to pieces in the attempt by the confederates, notwithstanding the creek was waist-to-chest high for significant lengths along his front.  Granted, getting the artillery across would have required the bridge, but (to quote Adm. Halsey) Jesus Christ and General Jackson! you throw your infantry across the creek, clear the confederates from the bluff and its crest, and then you can drag whatever you jolly well want across the bridge without having your men and horses shot to ribbons.

Burnsides’s delay allowed to play out one of those Hollywood-wouldn’t-have-dared-to-script-this-because-no-one-would-believe-it moments.  A. P. Hill’s division, fresh from securing Harper’s Ferry — well, “fresh” isn’t really the right word, because they had more or less jogged 17 miles to the battlefield, losing almost as many men to fatigue as they did to the federals when they got there — arrives on the field literally at a run and opens up a big ol’ can of Southern whup-ass on Burnside’s men, rolling them back off the ridge and down to the creek.  After which point McClellan, with a quarter of his army still in reserve, calls it a day.

So what, other than some priceless quotations (e.g., Thos. Jackson looking out over the remnants of his troops and observing, “God was very merciful to us this day,” which, if you take it to mean arranging affairs so that the opposing commander was McClellan with Burnside on his wing, instead of Grant with Sherman ditto, was strictly the truth), does Antietam have to say to us civvies today?  I’ll suggest a few thoughts as applying across all human endeavor: (i) opponents outside prepared positions, and especially if they’re on your turf, generally do not have prepared positions, ambuscades, etc. in their hip-pockets; (ii) fully-engaged opponents can be forced to neutralize or at least severely weaken such trickery as they have set up; (iii) even a tactical defeat can produce a strategic victory; (iv) no one ever won a fight who didn’t throw a punch; (vi) you may lose as much piecemeal fighting on a small front as you would have with a Big Swing on a wider front, but the former will seldom force a decision, and certainly not in your favor; (vii) know your own strategic resources, and exploit them. 

McClellan husbanded his troops as if they were all that the federals had between themselves and ruin.  They weren’t, not by a long shot.  Had Lee’s army been destroyed on the Antietam, however, Richmond and the south’s remaining war effort would have been doomed.  The stakes, in other words, were entirely different for the two sides.  McClellan commanded as if he were (as Churchill later said of Jellicoe of the Grand Fleet) the only man who could lose the war in an afternoon.  He wasn’t.  Whether McClellan’s self-perception was an outgrowth of his well-documented megalomania and self-importance is hard to know at this remove, but it’s perhaps no accident that Grant, famously at the opposite end of that particular spectrum, fought like the war was his to win, not his to lose.

All of which is to say that once again we see played out something that I’ve seen time and again, in both personal observation and from reading, from school-kids’ games to business to politics to military history, that what separates the winners and losers has every bit as much to do with character as it does with talent, money, advantage, or smarts.  In America at least, it is in fact hard to keep a good man down.

And maybe that reminder is what Antietam has to say to us, 150 years to the day later.

Paging Mr. Solzhenitsyn! Mr. Solzhenitsyn!

So let’s see where today finds us:  (1)  Someone from within our State Department is familiar enough with the movements of a United States Ambassador that they know precisely where to find him, viz. in a “temporary,” largely unsecured facility, on (2) the anniversary of the September 11 attacks.  By the most curious happenstance (3) several hundred “protesters” show up at that self-same “temporary” facility, armed with rocket-propelled ordnance.  Even though (4) the same State Department has had 48 hours’ advance notice that our facilities in the region are likely to be targets of violence, (5) the ambassador is permitted to be at that largely-unsecured “temporary” facility, and while there is left to the care of native security “forces,” perhaps the single most vulnerable security measure imaginable.  Events unfold as pretty much anyone (at least anyone outside the administration) could have predicted.

But wait!  There’s an explanation!  Some guy with more time and money than talent put together, months before, a film in which there are portrayals allegedly less than wholly flattering to the peculiar religious views of certain people.  Mind now, this film has been floating about out there for months and months, but it’s not until — will wonders never cease? — the anniversary of the September 11 attacks that the wounded sensibility of these “protesters” finally cries, “Thus far and no farther!” and 400-odd of them, all at once coincidentally, grab an RPG and head on down to the “temporary” U.S. diplomatic facility where — well, who woulda thunk it? — the U.S. ambassador just happens to be.

Now folks, just ignore the Al Qaeda pronouncement that these attacks are retaliation for a specific hit put on a named individual.  No, what our administration, the folks with their hands on the levers of what is at least on paper the most powerful single organization in world history — the executive branch of the United States government — elects to do is publicly buy in to the “protesters'” assertion that this is about some made-in-the-back-bedroom-closet movie.  Administration has a range of choices with that public stance.  It can confine itself to the facts on the ground, namely an act of war perpetrated against high United States officials, and take a position on that basis.  It can tell the “protesters” that, really you know, it’s about time y’all grew up to be a Big Boy Religion and learned to take a damned joke, and if this high-school drama department-level production is the worst your faith has to fear, y’all can go home, put the dogs up, crack a cold one, and watch you some pornography after the fashion of your jihadists over in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Or the administration can go all legalistic and say that, well, over in America under our laws we simply don’t recognize the validity of your demands.  If this guy wants to call your religion’s founder everything in the book and then some, that’s between you and him, and we utterly reject any suggestion that his actions can legitimize yours.  Go pound sand, and oh by the way, stand by for a special delivery of 150-175 tomahawk missiles, delivered right to your front doors.  Please wait 25-30 minutes for delivery.

Or the administration of the most powerful goverment on the planet can do what it in fact did.  It can deliver itself of a well-there-are-arguments-on-both-sides load of dishwater, and earnestly regret that an American citizen’s exercise of a right guaranteed to him by our nation’s founding document upset some folks who have made grievance-mongering into an art form (tacky thought:  Our dear president may well envy them the artistry with which they practice “community organizing”; I mean, did O ever manage to put RPGs out in support of new flooring in the projects’ elevators?).  It can demand of a private party (YouTube) that it suppress this movie (bravo! to YouTube for giving the feds the bum’s rush on that one).  And it can lean on county officials (since when does Washington give instructions to the sheriff’s department of Bugger Anywhere, by the way?) to appear, literally in the dead of the night, but not without first arranging for maximum media coverage, at this guy’s door and drag the schmuck in for “questioning” about . . . what?  That’s right: a “possible parole violation” relating to a two year-old conviction for . . . bank fraud.  Yup.  The federal probation officer out in Los Angeles does business late at night, it seems.  The white-collar crime boys in the U.S. Attorney’s office out there likewise keep late hours.  None of this could have been arranged with a morning phone call to the guy or his lawyer, course.  Drive around back, old fellow, and tell the guy at the gate you’re here to see Dept. U.S. Atty Schmuckatelly.  Nope; let’s put more American firepower on the ground (every one of those deputies is packing, notice) to haul in some two-bit amateur movie-hound than we did to protect our ambassador to Libya; let’s have more rounds in the clip than the U.S. Marines defending our embassy in Cairo were permitted to carry.

I have just a few questions:  Did the vehicle they shoved this guy into, for his “voluntary” midnight ride to the Lubyanka sheriff’s department (why the sheriff’s department, if it was a federal rap?), have on its side an advertisement to “Drink Soviet Champagne”?  Who’s going to play Vyshinsky in this guy’s show-trial of a parole violation hearing?  Who’s going to play Yagoda to soften him up and rehearse his lines before they trot him before the cameras in the court room?  Will there be places reserved on the front benches for Al Quaeda to seat its operatives?

Every couple of years I read through, just to refresh my recollection, the entirety of Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago, all three volumes of it.  The last sentence in the last book of the last volume:  “There is no law.” 

This is where we find ourselves today, September 16, 2012.

Why a Blog?

There are millions of people out there, each one adding to the cyber-gas of the blogosphere.  So why, exactly, ought I add one more voice?  What Thos. Jeff’n described as a “decent regard” for one’s fellows’ opinions suggests something in the way of an excuse explanation should be offered.

Initially, I am doing this because my dear friend and cheerleader, ‘Sam, has been on my case to do this very kindly encouraged me to start this experiment for some time now, to the point of supplying helpful literature on the subject.  Secondly, I am doing this because talking my computer screen doesn’t help any more, and besides the folks in the office are getting spooked by it.

Oh, I suppose most of the standard other pretexts apply, all the way from “to see if I can actually do this” all the way to “who knows? it might be fun,” to “maybe someone will heave money my way” to “I sure sound reasonable as hell when I’m lecturing my speedometer on the drive in to work each morning.”

But maybe the real reason is the human desire for a captive audience.  Start a blog and you’ve got somewhere you can gas on and on about what interests you.  Sure; you’ve no assurance that anyone will actually read what you’ve thrown out there, but at least no one can unfriend you, or have your posts sent immediately to a spam filter, or report you for cyber-stalking.  With a blog I can pour forth idiocy, triviality, bile, and gems of wisdom in any quantity I please and these little trons on the server have to sit there and take it like men.

The above considerations are all the more important when you have good reason to think (in part because those who are good enough friends to be able to wound you in all charity have said as much) that . . . well, you’re really the only person who’s interested in what interests you.

So there.  Maybe that’s it.  I’m blogging to get it out of my system.

But thank you, ‘Sam, for unstoppering what I hope will prove to be the genie from the bottle, and not merely the vials of wrath.