“Better than cut,” Sherman said, eyes alight with growing certitude of the plan. “The population here in the south will side with us. Instead of cutting communication, which would surely be most suspicious, we must subvert it.”
Lee gazed at the map unseeingly, stroking his white beard, deep in thought. “You realize that we are talking about a new kind of warfare here?” he said.
“I do. We are just applying lessons we learned during the war. Strike hard where you are not expected. A lightning strike into unprepared enemy positions. Plus false reports, not information — what shall we call it? — disinformation. There will be confused and conflicting reports, severed communication between enemy units so they have no way of assessing the truth of the reports that they are receiving.”
“We must involve the navy at the earliest occasion. They will have to assist our landings—”
“ — And mount diversionary attacks where we are not going to land!” Sherman said, finishing Lee’s sentence, so much were they in agreement.
“Smoke and cloud and confusion,” Lee added. “And when the smoke rises the enemy will be defeated. I think we have the heart of a plan here. Now we must flesh it out.”
By three in the afternoon they had agreed on the overall plan of the invasion. Their papers were already put away, and the map locked from sight, when there was a discreet tap on the door. Lee unlocked the door and ushered the two men inside. Meagher made the introductions before they were seated. Surgeon Reynolds accepted the presence of all this top brass with relaxed Irish aplomb.
“General Meagher here says that you are greatly interested in the Fenian movement, of which I can assure you I am an authority.”
“That is very true, Surgeon Reynolds,” General Sherman said. “But the matter goes deeper than that. Can you assure me that nothing you hear in this room today will be repeated outside this room?”
“You have my word on that — as an officer and as a surgeon. The oath of Aesculapius is a firm one.”
“I do believe that it is. Now then — I assume that you have heard the rumors about our impending attack upon the enemy.”
“I have. It appears to be what might be called an open secret. Going to attack the British invasion road from the Pacific end, while General Grant takes on the road itself. Seems a worthwhile plan.”
“What if I told you that the rumors were leaked deliberately and an entirely different plan was being drawn up?”
“If what you say is true, why then it has been a masterful bit of misdirection on the army’s part. I would never have expected so much guile in the high command. If not Mexico — why where else can we attack them? Sail up the Thames and drop a few shells on Buckingham Palace?” He smiled at the thought and Sherman smiled back.
“Not quite. But we are going to attack Ireland and throw the British out.”
His chair fell over with a clatter as Reynolds jumped to his feet, mouth agape, eyes staring.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Tell me it’s not a joke!”
“I am dead serious. Now you know why we enlisted your aid.”
The surgeon’s fingers, so firm on the scalpel and always under control, were shaking uncontrollably now as he picked up and righted the fallen chair, sat down on it heavily. His voice was so hushed when he spoke that he could barely be heard.
“The dream of every Irishman, passed down through the ages, to come true in my lifetime… My heart is beating as though it will burst in my chest.”
“ ’Tis true, Francis,” Meagher assured him. “We shall march on Ireland and set her free.”
“Ask what you will of me. Anything.” Spoken with such conviction and assurance that none dared doubt him.
“We want you to tell us about Ulster and the northern provinces,” Lee said.
“Of course. Now I see why I was brought here. First a grave warning.” He looked directly at General Meagher. “Take your brave lads of the Irish Brigade and march on Ireland and set her free. But don’t let any Catholic Irish soldier set one foot in the province of Ulster or there will be rivers of blood in the streets.” He turned to Sherman, his face most grave. “There are two tribal peoples up there, living locked tight to each other in the streets and villages of the province. Set them at each other’s throats and only the most wicked and deadly battle and slaughter will follow.”
“We have already decided that,” Lee said calmly. “I shall command in the attack in the north and my Southern troops will lead in the field. All of them Protestants.”
“A wise and wonderful decision. It will then be American troops against British troops. A war between soldiers and I doubt that the Orangemen will takes sides. At least not at first. At heart they are a moral people, steeped in Presbyterianism. The plantations in the north of Ireland began in 1605 when Sir Arthur Chichester proposed the settlement of English and Scots to strengthen royal control of the province. The native Irish Catholics were pushed out of the cities and towns and made to live outside the gates. This pattern has not changed since the seventeenth century. Eve
ry man in Ulster knows to an inch what is the property of his side. A siege mentality has prevailed there for all these centuries. Myths not history rule. What both sides believe about their past has been altered to suit their respective needs.”
“So what do I do about it?” Lee asked. “What happens when my troops enter Belfast and subdue the enemy?”
“That is a very good question,” Reynolds said, pulling at his jaw, deep in thought. “You must not discriminate, that is the first rule. Protestant and Catholic must be treated equally. Declare martial law and a curfew and see that it is obeyed. You must treat everyone with an even hand.” He rubbed his forehead, thinking hard. “Tell me,” he said. “Are there not some Southern regiments from Louisiana, from New Orleans?”
“There are indeed,” Lee said.