The Smoke at Dawn: A Novel of the Civil War by Jeff Shaara

Army of the Cumberland had been crushed by Bragg’s forces. Once Dana had spent a full day in the safety of the Chattanooga defenses, the telegrams had grown more tempered, and thus more accurate. But Rosecrans was still not convinced that Dana wasn’t there to find a replacement more agreeable to Stanton, or even to President Lincoln. Thomas could see for himself that, regardless of Dana’s motives, Rosecrans was doing nothing to help his own cause. No matter how secure the army might now be in Chattanooga, Rosecrans continued to show signs of instability and a complete lack of confidence. His own messages to Washington seemed to emphasize a disturbing lack of faith in the army, and much more certainty that whatever happened next was a product of God’s will. It was not the kind of message Washington wanted to hear.
    Thomas had no real animosity toward Dana, saw him as a reasonable man, sent out to do a job that didn’t include a chaotic pursuit by a deadly enemy. If it had taken Dana a couple of days behind the army’s defenses at Chattanooga to find his composure, this was no surprise to Thomas. He knew there were fighting men in this army who still weren’t finding much sleep, knowing that every maneuver they might make was being clearly observed from at least two directions. If that made Dana nervous as well, it just meant he was paying attention.
    “I apologize for the intrusion, General. Your Colonel Hough allowed me to pass. Please don’t find fault with him. I was rather insistent.”
    “If Colonel Hough knew I wished to be alone, you would not be here. No matter, Mr. Dana. I can tell … there’s something on your mind.”
    Dana looked toward a small chair, and Thomas pointed.
    “Yes, sit.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    Dana paused, seemed to gather his thoughts, and Thomas said, “It’s late, sir. Have you something to say?”
    Dana nodded, still hesitated. “Sir, as you know, I am in regularcontact with the secretary of war. He is insistent on that point. I must mention that this camp, this command is a very different … er … beast than what I encountered with General Grant.”
    Thomas knew that Dana had first come west to accompany Ulysses Grant’s campaign through Mississippi, a campaign that had concluded with the complete success at Vicksburg.
    “Mr. Dana, there will be no talk of competition between this army and the command of General Grant. Grant’s success in Mississippi was a sterling achievement. This army has accomplished much as well, though not the kinds of victories that make for attractive headlines.”
    Dana had been a newspaperman before the war, a fact no one took for granted. Thomas assumed, as did many, that Dana’s correspondence with Washington would most always carry a flair for the dramatic.
    Dana seemed to appreciate the insinuation, nodded, a slight smile. “General Grant is an interesting study, sir. His response to my presence was hostile, certainly. But he was at least polite about it. I went to great lengths to assure him that whatever campaign anyone in Washington might be waging against him, whoever his detractors might be, none of that was of concern to me. By the time the Vicksburg campaign concluded, I’m certain he believed me. General Sherman … well, I’m not so certain. He has a striking dislike of newspaper reporters.”
    “So do I.”
    “Yes, I have heard that. I am not here to offer headlines to anyone, General. Not at all.”
    The room was small, low ceilinged, the headquarters a fairly nondescript house, the hearth part of a crude kitchen. Thomas enjoyed the warmth of the fire, a soothing balm to the ever-present pains in his back. He shifted in the chair, adjusted a pillow beneath him, and Dana said, “I understand you were injured. Before the war.”
    “A newspaperman, yes, Mr. Dana? Observant, catching every detail.”
    Dana looked down, said, “Yes, quite so, I’m afraid. One is taught to notice the trivial, that great messages lie in