Sacred Ties: From West Point Brothers to Battlefield Rivals: A True Story of the Civil War - Couverture rigide

One
Benny Havens

In the late 1850s, a young man who wanted to attend the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York, had to receive a political appointment from his congressman, each of whom could have only one cadet from his district there at any given time. There were relatively few colleges in this country then, and virtually no other schools of engineering. While students at civilian colleges had to pay their own tuition as well as for their room and board, it was the reverse at West Point: cadets were active-duty members of the United States Army, and even though they were restricted to that army post for training as cadets, they did receive a small stipend each month.

These appointments, then, became popular and were often quite difficult to secure. But rather than just getting a free education in engineering, West Point cadets were primarily being trained for careers as army officers. It was believed at the time that, in order to make the best officer later, cadets had to be put through rigorous paces in order to "toughen them up." This meant that, once enrolled, they underwent a very spartan and difficult regimen of education and training before receiving their diplomas and their commissions as second lieutenants in the United States Army.

The academic curriculum at the academy was rigorous and demanding, the military training was precise and challenging, and the constant discipline cadets endured in their daily lives was severe, strict, and unrelenting. They attended class on six days each week and received a grade on a test they took every day in every subject. They wore only tight, high-collared uniforms, whose coats were studded with three vertical rows of brass buttons shining from their chests. They marched in parades several times each week as well as to and from their classes and meals, and their food was bland, tasteless, and often inedible. Their rooms, persons, rifles, and military equipment were always subject to inspection, and gambling, smoking, and possession of alcohol were strictly forbidden. Cadets could not have a mustache, a wife, or a horse, and they were restricted to the grounds of West Point for their entire time as cadets, save only a ten-week vacation during the summer after their second year. If the inspecting officer found any flaws, or if they violated any of a long list of regulations, they received demerits, and in the event they accumulated more than one hundred demerits in a semester, they would be expelled.

But probably the worst violation of regulations was for cadets to sneak out of their rooms after taps and go off post to a tavern and drink alcohol. In the event they took such a risk and were caught, the punishment for such an offense was immediate dismissal.

Even so, every year some cadets took that risk, perhaps as much to prove they could get away with it as to actually drink forbidden fermented fruit. A cadet dismissed for such an act would sometimes be able to get himself reinstated by the secretary of war, though good political contacts in Washington by the cadet or his family were all-important here. But such reinstatement was not automatic, and any cadet who went "over the wall" after taps was running the very highest risk.

Probably the favorite saloon for cadets taking such a dare was that run by Benny Havens. Benny had started at West Point as a supplier of foodstuffs, and he did quite well, even becoming legendary for his friendly relationships with cadets. But when he was finally caught smuggling alcohol to them, he and his wife were thrown off the post and forbidden to return.

Ever.

This was no doubt a major blow to the Havenses.

But Benny was not one to give up easily, and he set up a saloon a mile or so south of West Point, down near the river and just below the small village of Buttermilk Falls (whose name has more recently been changed to Highland Falls). While popular with both civilians and officers from the staff and faculty at West Point, Benny's most prized customers were cadets sneaking off post after taps. In the common perception of cadets, the staff and faculty charged with their command and education were generally harsh with them, and so were perceived to be the enemy, while Benny and his wife were proven friends.

After his formal banishment, Benny Havens and his bar became quite popular among cadets. Slipping out of their rooms after taps and avoiding the road, they had to make a treacherous approach through the woods on a steep and rocky slope, a foray rendered all the more dangerous on a moonless night. During the winter, however, the trip was made easier simply because they could come and go on the frozen Hudson. There were no icebreakers in those days, and the Hudson would remain frozen for weeks at a time, the ice so solid that you could easily walk across it to the eastern bank. On the rare occasions when officers would be approaching his saloon that late at night, it could only be to catch cadets. But Benny's loyalty to cadets was never even suspect, and when the noise of officers approaching was heard, Benny would hustle them out windows or the back door, released like sparrows to flutter madly through the trees.

Sneaking off post to imbibe at Benny's, of course, was a high-risk venture. The punishment, as mentioned above, was dismissal, although some superintendents enforced this regulation more strenuously than others. But the threat of dismissal was always there, hanging above the heads of any errant, risk-taking cadets who might be caught at Benny's.

Over the years, sneaking out after taps for a drink at Benny's became almost a rite of passage for the more daring cadets. It was not uncommon, therefore, that cadets were caught, either at Benny's or in the woods as they tried to get away, and some of these were sent packing. But that, of course, often turned on other factors.

One of the most famous cadets to be caught was none other than Jefferson Davis, class of 1828 and a future senator from Mississippi, U.S. secretary of war from 1853 to 1857, and the first and only president of the Confederate States of America. In the summer of 1825, Davis and four other cadets were caught and arrested at Benny Havens's, and all were tried by court-martial in August.

Despite the clever but spurious arguments he made in his own defense, Davis and the others were found guilty and sentenced to dismissal. But Davis and one other cadet were saved because of their good records, while the other three were sent packing. This group included James F. Swift, who might have been considered somewhat special among his classmates in that he was the son of the first man to have graduated from West Point, General Joseph G. Swift, class of 1802. Clearly, then, no favoritism was shown in this area to any cadet with "special connections," which Davis did not have while Swift clearly did.

Even so, this high risk made the experience all the more delicious to those who ran it. And whether they realized it at the time or not, it was also a special preparation for the great pressures they would endure and the risks they might have to run in the Civil War that loomed before them.

In military circles, there has long been interest and debate over the supposed "principles of war," and there are at least some common themes upon which there is wide agreement. A good example of this would be the principles of war as they are accepted today by the U.S. military and known by the acronym MOOSEMUSS: mass, objective, offensive, security, economy of force, maneuver, unity of command, surprise, and simplicity. But while this list may seem exhaustive, there may be room for other elements as well, one of which is often crucial to battlefield success or failure.

That is the spirit of the commander.

Raw personal courage under the life-and-death pressures of the battlefield is required of that person, but also, given the predictably slow flow and uncertain accuracy of information or intelligence reports, a certain levelheaded flexibility is indispensable. And that flexibility, to be effective, must include a genuine willingness to take risks.

In most wars, one can readily detect the presence or absence of these crucially important elements in the tactics or strategy implemented by senior leaders, and they are often the keys that spell victory or defeat. One has only to glance superficially at major battles from the Civil War to see these aspects of effective combat leadership, or their absence, openly displayed by the battlefield performance of the commanders.

One well-known example where personal failure of spirit led to disaster was that of George B. McClellan, the commander of the Army of the Potomac, at the battle of Antietam. There, despite his two-tone superiority in personnel, he failed to attack (and seems to have quailed at the prospect of attacking) the Confederate army before him on either 15 or 16 September 1862. When he finally did attack on the 17th, it was with three uncoordinated assaults at different points and times, a clumsy strategy that allowed his opponent to maneuver his own troops from interior lines so as to reject each attack in turn. And at the crucial moment late in the day, McClellan failed to take the limited risk of committing his fresh reserves, an action that clearly would have led to a decisive Union victory in an otherwise close contest. In addition, McClellan was careful to personally stay far away from the actual fighting that day, a failure to "lead from the front" that reflected poorly on his battlefield leadership.

His unwillingness to take the risks associated with an attack on all fronts at the same time, and perhaps more importantly, his failure to commit his reserves at the height of the battle, led to his abject failure. His lack of personal courage, of course, had a deep effect not only on his staff and subordinate commanders but even on the common soldiers under his command who never saw him anywhere near the line of battle.

Compare this nadir of command of the Army of the Potomac with the battle of Chancellorsville and the actions there of Robert E. Lee, commander of the Army of Northern Virginia. On 2 May 1863, while facing a Union force more than twice the size of his own, Lee dispatched more than half his army to make a day-long march around the enemy's right flank. Arriving in late afternoon, they delivered a crushing blow against the surprised Union forces and effectively destroyed the fighting spirit of Lee's Union adversary. This luckless and lackluster man, who was taking a cyclical turn in command of the Army of the Potomac, was the already insecure Joseph Hooker. Commonly known in the North by the nickname of "Fightin' Joe," his performance on this battlefield against an opponent of the highest caliber showed him to be something else entirely.

Until that moment, dividing one's force in the face of a superior army had been considered by virtually all "authorities" to be one of the greatest tactical sins a commander could commit. Even today, one would hesitate long before taking such a drastic step. But Lee clearly knew what he was doing, and for a true military genius, all principles and other rules are quickly out the window while other factors, including audacity alone, carry the day. As for individual courage, Lee was often at the very front of battle, risking enemy fire in order to closely observe and sometimes redirect the operations of his troops. At the battle of Spotsylvania on 12 May 1864, for instance, his own men had to pull on the reins of his horse as he moved forward, this to keep him from unnecessarily risking his life by personally leading a counterattack.

And experience in taking risks might well be a key to later military success, such as the risks taken by West Point cadets laughing and singing and drinking illicit liquor with their closest friends at an off-limits bar. To them, the possibility of being dismissed from the academy for that violation of regulations alone was very real. It cannot be denied, therefore, that the act took a certain amount of personal courage and self-confidence, and may well have been just as important a part of their preparations for war as any other.

Indeed, the Benny Havens experience may well have been the highest risk any of them had ever taken. Poised as they were on the precipice of war in 1860, there would be an undeniable relationship between their West Point experiences and their future battlefield performance. Within the next few years they would face higher risks still, risks whose penalties for failure would be colored with blood rather than embarrassment. But for those cadets who took the dare, an illicit run to Benny's provided a fair predictor of the risks they would be willing to run, indeed the courage they would be able to muster, on the battlefields that lay before them.

Once safely arrived at Benny's, cadets could taste special treats that simply were not available inside the academy confines. The specialty of the house was known as "flip": into a large flagon, Benny would pour ale, cider, or rum along with well-beaten eggs, the mixture sweetened and spiced and then heated by plunging a red-hot iron bar, known as a "flip dog," into it. This was a delicate move, for if it was removed at just the right second, it left a delicious caramel-like flavor to the punch, while leaving it in too long could leave a burned taste that ruined it. But Benny was a master at this feat, and when he was serving a group of off-limits cadets, he performed it with relish amid gales of laughter from some homesick and hungry boys. Though sometimes loud and brash seeming, these were really only young lads who had crept through the dark woods, tripping over stones and underbrush, just to find this island of solace in their otherwise harsh and desolate West Point world.

And Benny's wife was a renowned cook as well, serving turkey roasted over the open fire, and sometimes ham, beef, or chicken, too, all accompanied by delicious flapjacks. This combination was attractive, but most normal customers, including officers, went home at a reasonable hour. It was only occasionally and around the midnight hour that cadets would mysteriously creep out of the woods and in the back door. Knowing the risks they were running, and given his own rocky relations with the academy, Benny was benevolent not only in keeping his tavern open but also in providing a watchful eye for officers who might show up unexpectedly.

For those cadets who had shown the spine to sneak out of barracks and through the woods to Benny's, their reward was ample. Not only did they drink brimming glasses of hot flip, they were also served large plates of sizzling hot meat and flapjacks, a veritable feast for these poorly fed boys far from home. But perhaps most of all, it was the mood and the setting that just exuded warmth and welcome, a place where cadets could truly relax until the predawn time came for them to trudge back and get ready for another day of classes. They were all young and strong, of course, and their constitutions could easily handle one night with little sleep but much flip. And the memories no doubt kept them warm through some long and frigid winter nights in their poorly heated barracks.

In the early morn...

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