Grant and His Generals: World of Ulysses S. Grant
Autor Harry S. Laveren Limba Engleză Paperback – 9 noi 2026
The rise of Ulysses S. Grant to the pinnacle of military command is one of the more improbable stories of American history. To achieve such success, Grant had to work with, manage, encourage, and sometimes berate an eclectic group of military leaders who came under his command during the US Civil War. In this deep analysis of Grant’s leadership style, Harry S. Laver reveals how the introverted soldier exercised such exceptional military leadership that he won the war and became a popular figure in the American public mind.
Rather than focusing solely on battlefield tactics or campaign narratives, this book examines Grant as a leader of men. Focusing on one relationship at a time, Laver offers a richly textured account of Grant’s interactions with his generals, demonstrating how he evaluated each subordinate on individual merits. Grant emphasized strengths while attempting to mitigate shortcomings, tailoring his approach to the personalities and abilities of those he commanded. He preferred to give his generals latitude whenever possible, but when circumstances demanded it, he issued precise and detailed guidance. This flexible, adaptive leadership style, rare among Civil War commanders, proved central to his success.
Grant’s effectiveness is most evident in the productive partnerships he forged. His collaborations with naval commanders Andrew H. Foote and David D. Porter became models of successful army–navy cooperation. He mentored promising officers such as James B. McPherson, whose career was cut short by his death in battle, and the dynamic Philip H. Sheridan, who emerged as one of Grant’s most trusted lieutenants. Grant also developed a functional, if strained, working relationship with George G. Meade, the victor at Gettysburg, whose difficult temperament troubled subordinates but did not impede cooperation at the highest level. Grant shared with the fiery William T. Sherman a deep mutual respect and an unyielding commitment to total victory.
Not all relationships were successful. Grant struggled with obstinate and independent-minded commanders such as John A. McClernand, William Rosecrans, and George H. Thomas, removing the first two from command and nearly doing the same with Thomas. His most delicate challenge was Henry W. Halleck, who had sought to undermine Grant’s career. When Grant ultimately rose above Halleck in rank, he managed the reversal with professionalism and strategic restraint, transforming a former rival into an effective subordinate.
Marked by an innate generosity of spirit, Grant praised his generals for their successes and occasionally shouldered the blame for their failures. Laver reveals how this humane yet disciplined approach enabled Grant to weld a disparate group of commanders into an effective fighting force—and to secure Union victory.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780809340033
ISBN-10: 0809340038
Pagini: 530
Ilustrații: 14
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 mm
Greutate: 0.52 kg
Ediția:First Edition
Editura: Southern Illinois University Press
Colecția Southern Illinois University Press
Seria World of Ulysses S. Grant
ISBN-10: 0809340038
Pagini: 530
Ilustrații: 14
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 mm
Greutate: 0.52 kg
Ediția:First Edition
Editura: Southern Illinois University Press
Colecția Southern Illinois University Press
Seria World of Ulysses S. Grant
Notă biografică
Harry S. Laver is the Maj. Gen. William A. Stofft Chair of Historical Research at the U.S. Army Command and General Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. He is the author ofA General Who Will Fight: The Leadership of Ulysses S. Grant and Citizens More Than Soldiers: The Kentucky Militia and Society in the Early Republicand a coeditor ofThe Art of Command: American Military Leadership from George Washington to Colin Powell.
Extras
From the Introduction
Writing in 1879, Gen. William T. Sherman took a moment from his duties as Commanding General of the U. S. Army to reminisce about the war years and the man under whom he served, Ulysses S. Grant. Grant, Sherman offered, “is a strange character. Nothing like [him] is portrayed by Plutarch or the many who have striven to portray the great men of ancient or modern times. I knew him as a cadet at West Point, as a lieutenant of the Fourth Infantry, as a citizen of St. Louis, and as a growing general all through the bloody civil war. Yet to me,” Sherman confessed, “he is a mystery, and I believe he is a mystery to himself.”
If Grant was an enigma to Sherman, the man who knew him best, then it is not entirely surprising that time has done little to demystify one of America’s great military commanders. Historians and writers for a century and a half have attempted to gain a better understanding of Grant, and yet the results have been less than satisfactory. He has continued, stubbornly so, to defy historical scrutiny.
Nevertheless, historians continue the pursuit. My previous study of Grant examined his growth and development as a military commander. While working on that project, I became increasingly intrigued by how he dealt with his key subordinates. They were indeed a diverse and at times eccentric cast of characters, a collection of professional military men and ambitious politicians. A number of questions arose. How did Grant maximize their strengths and minimize their weaknesses when to a man they could not have been more different? How was Grant able to exercise effective leadership when one subordinate required explicit, unambiguous orders while another operated best with a free hand? When one’s prickly personality needed constant soothing, while another spoke in “navy” and not in “army”? When one was an inexperienced but promising young officer, while another was a veteran who had seen more of combat than Grant? How, in other words, did Grant adapt and adjust his leadership style to make the most of those officers? What follows answers such questions, drawing on the telegrams, letters, orders, and recollections of his subordinates, his superiors, and Grant himself.
This study of military leadership reiterates the principle that effective leaders must adapt their command approach to the capabilities and personalities of their subordinates, rather than expect, or even worse demand, that followers adapt to them. Such adaptive leadership is necessary to maximize the potential contributions of a subordinate, especially in the lethal arena of war. An analysis of Grant’s interaction with a variety of officers demonstrates this point, that the responsibility to create the best possible command relationship lies primarily with the commander, not the subordinate. Grant skillfully applied this principle, confirming why he is remembered as not only the general who orchestrated victory in the Civil War, but also as one of America’s greatest military commanders.
Grant’s counterpart in the war, Confederate general Robert E. Lee, typically considered another outstanding commander, faltered in this essential leadership trait. Historian Thomas Buell notes that Lee’s senior officers were “proud, independent, fractious, egotistical, confrontational, and thin-skinned,” an assessment that just as accurately describes Grant’s lieutenants. Lee, however, seemed unable to judge with any degree of precision what his subordinates could and could not do, when they needed more guidance, when they needed less. Lee’s leadership style remained fixed, despite the diversity of proficiencies and personalities in his command. Lee gave his corps and division commanders considerable discretion in conducting operations, regardless of each man’s experience and ability.
The Gettysburg campaign provides two examples. In the summer of 1863 as the Army of Northern Virginia began its trek into Union territory, Lee issued to cavalry commander Jeb Stuart rather ambiguous orders that gave the aggressive Stuart significant leeway. As the Confederate army moved north, rather than conducting screening operations as he should have, Stuart led his horsemen on a ride around the Union army, separating himself from Lee’s main force and denying his commander vital intelligence on enemy movements and location. Evaluating the campaign, historian Brian Holden Reid maintains that Lee unwisely gave Stuart discretionary orders that identified no specific objective or date to rejoin the army. More explicit orders to the impulsive Stuart might well have altered the path of the Confederate army, the course of the campaign, if not the overall war.
In part, because of the failings of Lee and Stuart, on July 1, 1863, the Confederates and the Union Army of the Potomac cut into each other at the Pennsylvania town of Gettysburg. Late in the afternoon, after heavy fighting throughout most of the day, the Federals withdrew to the low hills and ridgelines south of town.
In a second instance of poor leadership, Lee sent word to Gen. Richard Ewell, who had replaced the Second Corps’ deceased commander Stonewall Jackson, to “if practicable” take Cemetery Hill, a piece of high ground that overlooked much of the surrounding countryside. This was key terrain should the battle continue the next day. Ewell, new to corps command and reluctant to act without explicit orders, failed to advance, allowing Union soldiers to dig in overnight on high ground they would hold for the remainder of the battle.
Lee’s discretionary orders were well suited to a commander like Stonewall Jackson, whose experience, competence, and confidence enabled him to seize the initiative and exploit opportunities presented by fate or the enemy. But not all commanders, in fact few, are of such a disposition. Ewell certainly was not. The fault in this instance, as in his interaction with Stuart, lies more with Lee than Ewell. As the army commander it was Lee’s responsibility to recognize the differences among his officers, that a one-size-fits-all approach to leadership fails to maximize the capabilities or minimize the deficiencies of subordinates.
Reid’s evaluation of Lee’s inability or indifference to differentiate among his officers and tailor his guidance captures a shortcoming of his leadership. “Although Lee was firm and decisive in elucidating his operational objectives,” Reid notes, “he left it to his subordinates to find their own tactical solutions.” Without an established doctrine or sufficient experience, confusion if not defeat was possible. “It was amateurishness,” Reid writes; “Lee was to blame for not gripping his subordinates and giving them firmer direction.” Rigidity, in other words, too often characterized Lee’s command style. Historian Thomas Buell’s overall assessment is that “Lee would not, could not, change his style of leadership, not then, not ever. He was who he was.” Grant in contrast grew as a leader and proved more adept than Lee at this crucial element of military command.
Any effective leader must judge consistently and correctly the wherewithal of others, and in this respect Grant’s diminutive personality served him well. British general and historian J. F. C. Fuller describes Grant as “a silent and inarticulate man,…always willing to listen to others.” Although he was indeed meager in both conversing and composing, he certainly was not inarticulate as his writings demonstrate. It was to Grant’s taciturnity, however, that Fuller attributes his success: “To know, to will, to dare, and to remain silent.”
Grant’s reserved exterior was indicative of an inner composure. He led with quiet resolve. Fuller maintains that Grant was one of “the coolest and the most perfectly balanced” generals of the war; “whenever he appears, his presence, like ice, allays the fever….his presence at once counteracts panic, it allays fear, it induces confidence.” Writing in the spring of 1864, author and Union colonel Charles Francis Adams, Jr., observed of Grant, “in a crisis he is one against whom all around, whether few in number or a great army as here, would instinctively lean. He is a man of the most exquisite judgment and tact.” After Grant made his way east in 1864, an officer on George Meade’s staff observed that the new commander had three expressions: “deep thought; extreme determination; and great simplicity and calmness.”
Grant’s abiding silence and introspective nature allowed a concentration of mental energy on what was happening outside instead of what was happening inside. Rather than focusing on his own emotions, his own disappointments, his own aspirations, he directed his efforts toward his subordinates to evaluate and assess their attributes and state of mind. Grant, unlike many in high command, empathized with those with whom he served. He was not a George McClellan, frustrated that others failed to recognize his genius, nor was he a John McClernand, believing fate had chosen him for political or military greatness. Free of such distractions the introverted Grant considered others as much if not more than himself, allowing him to better take stock of a man’s abilities and willingness to help or to hinder.
James H. Wilson, an officer who served under and wrote a biography of Grant, thought “that Grant was neither a great organizer nor much of a theorist in military matters,” noting that Grant himself, “confessed that he had no technical knowledge of war, military science, or military administration.” J. F. C. Fuller reached the same conclusion, writing that Grant thought “in facts and not in theories.” But given his battlefield success, including the development and execution of the strategy that led to Union victory, Grant seems to have known at least something about the technical military matters of tactics and operations.
Unlike Lee, who was a master tactician, Grant’s strength as a military commander consisted of more than managing battle tactics. He understood how to lead the disparate individuals who served under his command. Effective and successful leadership during the Civil War, as is still the case, required senior officers to be agile and adaptive, certainly in their conduct of a fight, but equally if not more so in their management of subordinate commanders. Grant intuitively perceived that different men required different leadership styles. Francis Greene, an engineering officer, saw that Grant “was accustomed to take things,” to which we can include men, “as they were and to devote his whole energies to making the best of them.” William T. Sherman, perhaps the closest observer of Grant during the war, noted that he “possesses in an eminent degree that peculiar and high attribute of using various men to produce a common result.” Charles Francis Adams, Jr., thought Grant a “remarkable man. He handles those around him so quietly and well, he so evidently has the faculty of disposing of work and managing men, he is cool and quiet.” Grant’s success came about in part because of “his ability to use the powers of his subordinates to accomplish his purpose,” writes historian T. Harry Williams. And it is here we find the foundation of Grant’s remarkable success as a leader. He developed the ability to evaluate his generals as best as circumstances would permit, and then harnessed their capabilities in the pursuit of victory.
Military command in any era is an exceptionally difficult task, and although not unique to the Civil War, the inclusion of political leaders among senior field officers made commanding an army even more challenging. The mix of professional, trained, and experienced officers with politicians who had won a political fight but never heard a shot fired in anger, made leading an army a complicated affair. Among the professionals were those who had attended the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York, as had Grant and Lee. Like them, many of the career officers had fought in the Mexican-American War in the 1840s, and knew about the choreography of marching an army from here to there, and once “there” coping with if not controlling the chaos of combat.
The civilian politicians who attained high military rank typically did so because of their party connections or ability to recruit large numbers of volunteers. The Prussian officer and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz’s dictum that war is an extension of political activity to the battlefield certainly applies to the Civil War, where military victories were necessary but insufficient to achieve policy objectives and win the war. The support of partisan party leaders was also required, for they had the power to rally their constituents to the flag, or conversely undermine support for the president and by extension national policy objectives. That support could best be obtained by granting party chieftains the stars of a general, with or without military competence or experience.
Some politician-generals were as effective and courageous as their professional counterparts; others lived up to rather low expectations. For Grant the differences were almost inconsequential, as he did not have a free hand to pick and choose who would and who would not command his corps and divisions. Typically more senior military and civilian officials made those decisions. Grant had to take those placed under his command, no matter their experience, training, or ability, and try to get the most out of them that time and circumstances would allow.
In 1861, Grant was certainly no aspiring politician, but neither was he recognized as an exemplary soldier. His path to becoming one of the country’s great commanders is an improbable story of perseverance and the opportunity of war. “A military life had no charms for me, and I had not the faintest idea of staying in the army even if I should be graduated [from West Point], which I did not expect,” recalled Grant. Certainly there was little in his early life or career to suggest he would one day rank among the preeminent captains of military history. Grant especially would have scoffed at such a prediction. Biographies that recount the early years of his life are plentiful and comprehensive, thus what follows is a brief overview of his formative, pre-war years.
[end of excerpt]
Writing in 1879, Gen. William T. Sherman took a moment from his duties as Commanding General of the U. S. Army to reminisce about the war years and the man under whom he served, Ulysses S. Grant. Grant, Sherman offered, “is a strange character. Nothing like [him] is portrayed by Plutarch or the many who have striven to portray the great men of ancient or modern times. I knew him as a cadet at West Point, as a lieutenant of the Fourth Infantry, as a citizen of St. Louis, and as a growing general all through the bloody civil war. Yet to me,” Sherman confessed, “he is a mystery, and I believe he is a mystery to himself.”
If Grant was an enigma to Sherman, the man who knew him best, then it is not entirely surprising that time has done little to demystify one of America’s great military commanders. Historians and writers for a century and a half have attempted to gain a better understanding of Grant, and yet the results have been less than satisfactory. He has continued, stubbornly so, to defy historical scrutiny.
Nevertheless, historians continue the pursuit. My previous study of Grant examined his growth and development as a military commander. While working on that project, I became increasingly intrigued by how he dealt with his key subordinates. They were indeed a diverse and at times eccentric cast of characters, a collection of professional military men and ambitious politicians. A number of questions arose. How did Grant maximize their strengths and minimize their weaknesses when to a man they could not have been more different? How was Grant able to exercise effective leadership when one subordinate required explicit, unambiguous orders while another operated best with a free hand? When one’s prickly personality needed constant soothing, while another spoke in “navy” and not in “army”? When one was an inexperienced but promising young officer, while another was a veteran who had seen more of combat than Grant? How, in other words, did Grant adapt and adjust his leadership style to make the most of those officers? What follows answers such questions, drawing on the telegrams, letters, orders, and recollections of his subordinates, his superiors, and Grant himself.
This study of military leadership reiterates the principle that effective leaders must adapt their command approach to the capabilities and personalities of their subordinates, rather than expect, or even worse demand, that followers adapt to them. Such adaptive leadership is necessary to maximize the potential contributions of a subordinate, especially in the lethal arena of war. An analysis of Grant’s interaction with a variety of officers demonstrates this point, that the responsibility to create the best possible command relationship lies primarily with the commander, not the subordinate. Grant skillfully applied this principle, confirming why he is remembered as not only the general who orchestrated victory in the Civil War, but also as one of America’s greatest military commanders.
Grant’s counterpart in the war, Confederate general Robert E. Lee, typically considered another outstanding commander, faltered in this essential leadership trait. Historian Thomas Buell notes that Lee’s senior officers were “proud, independent, fractious, egotistical, confrontational, and thin-skinned,” an assessment that just as accurately describes Grant’s lieutenants. Lee, however, seemed unable to judge with any degree of precision what his subordinates could and could not do, when they needed more guidance, when they needed less. Lee’s leadership style remained fixed, despite the diversity of proficiencies and personalities in his command. Lee gave his corps and division commanders considerable discretion in conducting operations, regardless of each man’s experience and ability.
The Gettysburg campaign provides two examples. In the summer of 1863 as the Army of Northern Virginia began its trek into Union territory, Lee issued to cavalry commander Jeb Stuart rather ambiguous orders that gave the aggressive Stuart significant leeway. As the Confederate army moved north, rather than conducting screening operations as he should have, Stuart led his horsemen on a ride around the Union army, separating himself from Lee’s main force and denying his commander vital intelligence on enemy movements and location. Evaluating the campaign, historian Brian Holden Reid maintains that Lee unwisely gave Stuart discretionary orders that identified no specific objective or date to rejoin the army. More explicit orders to the impulsive Stuart might well have altered the path of the Confederate army, the course of the campaign, if not the overall war.
In part, because of the failings of Lee and Stuart, on July 1, 1863, the Confederates and the Union Army of the Potomac cut into each other at the Pennsylvania town of Gettysburg. Late in the afternoon, after heavy fighting throughout most of the day, the Federals withdrew to the low hills and ridgelines south of town.
In a second instance of poor leadership, Lee sent word to Gen. Richard Ewell, who had replaced the Second Corps’ deceased commander Stonewall Jackson, to “if practicable” take Cemetery Hill, a piece of high ground that overlooked much of the surrounding countryside. This was key terrain should the battle continue the next day. Ewell, new to corps command and reluctant to act without explicit orders, failed to advance, allowing Union soldiers to dig in overnight on high ground they would hold for the remainder of the battle.
Lee’s discretionary orders were well suited to a commander like Stonewall Jackson, whose experience, competence, and confidence enabled him to seize the initiative and exploit opportunities presented by fate or the enemy. But not all commanders, in fact few, are of such a disposition. Ewell certainly was not. The fault in this instance, as in his interaction with Stuart, lies more with Lee than Ewell. As the army commander it was Lee’s responsibility to recognize the differences among his officers, that a one-size-fits-all approach to leadership fails to maximize the capabilities or minimize the deficiencies of subordinates.
Reid’s evaluation of Lee’s inability or indifference to differentiate among his officers and tailor his guidance captures a shortcoming of his leadership. “Although Lee was firm and decisive in elucidating his operational objectives,” Reid notes, “he left it to his subordinates to find their own tactical solutions.” Without an established doctrine or sufficient experience, confusion if not defeat was possible. “It was amateurishness,” Reid writes; “Lee was to blame for not gripping his subordinates and giving them firmer direction.” Rigidity, in other words, too often characterized Lee’s command style. Historian Thomas Buell’s overall assessment is that “Lee would not, could not, change his style of leadership, not then, not ever. He was who he was.” Grant in contrast grew as a leader and proved more adept than Lee at this crucial element of military command.
Any effective leader must judge consistently and correctly the wherewithal of others, and in this respect Grant’s diminutive personality served him well. British general and historian J. F. C. Fuller describes Grant as “a silent and inarticulate man,…always willing to listen to others.” Although he was indeed meager in both conversing and composing, he certainly was not inarticulate as his writings demonstrate. It was to Grant’s taciturnity, however, that Fuller attributes his success: “To know, to will, to dare, and to remain silent.”
Grant’s reserved exterior was indicative of an inner composure. He led with quiet resolve. Fuller maintains that Grant was one of “the coolest and the most perfectly balanced” generals of the war; “whenever he appears, his presence, like ice, allays the fever….his presence at once counteracts panic, it allays fear, it induces confidence.” Writing in the spring of 1864, author and Union colonel Charles Francis Adams, Jr., observed of Grant, “in a crisis he is one against whom all around, whether few in number or a great army as here, would instinctively lean. He is a man of the most exquisite judgment and tact.” After Grant made his way east in 1864, an officer on George Meade’s staff observed that the new commander had three expressions: “deep thought; extreme determination; and great simplicity and calmness.”
Grant’s abiding silence and introspective nature allowed a concentration of mental energy on what was happening outside instead of what was happening inside. Rather than focusing on his own emotions, his own disappointments, his own aspirations, he directed his efforts toward his subordinates to evaluate and assess their attributes and state of mind. Grant, unlike many in high command, empathized with those with whom he served. He was not a George McClellan, frustrated that others failed to recognize his genius, nor was he a John McClernand, believing fate had chosen him for political or military greatness. Free of such distractions the introverted Grant considered others as much if not more than himself, allowing him to better take stock of a man’s abilities and willingness to help or to hinder.
James H. Wilson, an officer who served under and wrote a biography of Grant, thought “that Grant was neither a great organizer nor much of a theorist in military matters,” noting that Grant himself, “confessed that he had no technical knowledge of war, military science, or military administration.” J. F. C. Fuller reached the same conclusion, writing that Grant thought “in facts and not in theories.” But given his battlefield success, including the development and execution of the strategy that led to Union victory, Grant seems to have known at least something about the technical military matters of tactics and operations.
Unlike Lee, who was a master tactician, Grant’s strength as a military commander consisted of more than managing battle tactics. He understood how to lead the disparate individuals who served under his command. Effective and successful leadership during the Civil War, as is still the case, required senior officers to be agile and adaptive, certainly in their conduct of a fight, but equally if not more so in their management of subordinate commanders. Grant intuitively perceived that different men required different leadership styles. Francis Greene, an engineering officer, saw that Grant “was accustomed to take things,” to which we can include men, “as they were and to devote his whole energies to making the best of them.” William T. Sherman, perhaps the closest observer of Grant during the war, noted that he “possesses in an eminent degree that peculiar and high attribute of using various men to produce a common result.” Charles Francis Adams, Jr., thought Grant a “remarkable man. He handles those around him so quietly and well, he so evidently has the faculty of disposing of work and managing men, he is cool and quiet.” Grant’s success came about in part because of “his ability to use the powers of his subordinates to accomplish his purpose,” writes historian T. Harry Williams. And it is here we find the foundation of Grant’s remarkable success as a leader. He developed the ability to evaluate his generals as best as circumstances would permit, and then harnessed their capabilities in the pursuit of victory.
Military command in any era is an exceptionally difficult task, and although not unique to the Civil War, the inclusion of political leaders among senior field officers made commanding an army even more challenging. The mix of professional, trained, and experienced officers with politicians who had won a political fight but never heard a shot fired in anger, made leading an army a complicated affair. Among the professionals were those who had attended the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York, as had Grant and Lee. Like them, many of the career officers had fought in the Mexican-American War in the 1840s, and knew about the choreography of marching an army from here to there, and once “there” coping with if not controlling the chaos of combat.
The civilian politicians who attained high military rank typically did so because of their party connections or ability to recruit large numbers of volunteers. The Prussian officer and military theorist Carl von Clausewitz’s dictum that war is an extension of political activity to the battlefield certainly applies to the Civil War, where military victories were necessary but insufficient to achieve policy objectives and win the war. The support of partisan party leaders was also required, for they had the power to rally their constituents to the flag, or conversely undermine support for the president and by extension national policy objectives. That support could best be obtained by granting party chieftains the stars of a general, with or without military competence or experience.
Some politician-generals were as effective and courageous as their professional counterparts; others lived up to rather low expectations. For Grant the differences were almost inconsequential, as he did not have a free hand to pick and choose who would and who would not command his corps and divisions. Typically more senior military and civilian officials made those decisions. Grant had to take those placed under his command, no matter their experience, training, or ability, and try to get the most out of them that time and circumstances would allow.
In 1861, Grant was certainly no aspiring politician, but neither was he recognized as an exemplary soldier. His path to becoming one of the country’s great commanders is an improbable story of perseverance and the opportunity of war. “A military life had no charms for me, and I had not the faintest idea of staying in the army even if I should be graduated [from West Point], which I did not expect,” recalled Grant. Certainly there was little in his early life or career to suggest he would one day rank among the preeminent captains of military history. Grant especially would have scoffed at such a prediction. Biographies that recount the early years of his life are plentiful and comprehensive, thus what follows is a brief overview of his formative, pre-war years.
[end of excerpt]
Cuprins
Abbreviations
List of Illustrations
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part I. A General Among Generals: Grant Learns the Art of Command, 1861–1863
1. John A. McClernand, June 1861–April 1862
2. Andrew H. Foote, September 1861–March 1862
3. Henry W. Halleck, November 1861–July 1862
4. William T. Sherman, November 1861–July 1862
5. William S. Rosecrans, July 1862–October 1862
6. John A. McClernand, April 1862–July 1863
7. David D. Porter, December 1862–January 1865
8. James B. McPherson, February 1862–July 1864
9. William T. Sherman, July 1862–July 1863
Part II. The General of Generals: Grant Exercises the Art of Command, 1863–1865
10. George H. Thomas, April 1862–December 1864
11. Henry H. Halleck, July 1862–April 1865
12. George G. Meade, March 1864–April 1865
13. Philip H. Sheridan, November 1863–April 1865
14. William T. Sherman, July 1863–April 1865
Conclusion
Index
List of Illustrations
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part I. A General Among Generals: Grant Learns the Art of Command, 1861–1863
1. John A. McClernand, June 1861–April 1862
2. Andrew H. Foote, September 1861–March 1862
3. Henry W. Halleck, November 1861–July 1862
4. William T. Sherman, November 1861–July 1862
5. William S. Rosecrans, July 1862–October 1862
6. John A. McClernand, April 1862–July 1863
7. David D. Porter, December 1862–January 1865
8. James B. McPherson, February 1862–July 1864
9. William T. Sherman, July 1862–July 1863
Part II. The General of Generals: Grant Exercises the Art of Command, 1863–1865
10. George H. Thomas, April 1862–December 1864
11. Henry H. Halleck, July 1862–April 1865
12. George G. Meade, March 1864–April 1865
13. Philip H. Sheridan, November 1863–April 1865
14. William T. Sherman, July 1863–April 1865
Conclusion
Index
Descriere
During Ulysses S. Grant's rise to the pinnacle of military command, he had to work with, manage, encourage, and sometimes berate an eclectic group of military leaders who came under his command during the US Civil War. In this first-ever deep analysis of Grant’s leadership style, Harry S. Laver reveals how the introverted soldier exercised such exceptional military leadership that he won the war and became a popular figure in the American public mind.