
*(Sometimes while driving long distances I’ll dream up deceased notables and forgotten events and engage the characters in conversation to help the miles roll by. Mark Twain made a recent appearance. Today it’s General Grant who suddenly showed up in the seat beside me. I was driving north on Virginia’s I-95 late at night).
ME: “Well, my goodness, look who’s here! I guess it’s true old soldiers never die.”
USG: “Yeah. That was MacArthur, 1951. Truman had just fired him and he was in Congress being theatrical. I almost got fired once, myself. Maybe a couple’a times but I never was theatrical.”
ME: “Do you know where we are?”
USG: “Of course. Virginia. Richmond just ahead. I spent some time here you might say. Good while back, though. Miserable experience.”
ME: “Could you elaborate?”
USG: “Yeah. Off to the right up ahead, near Mechanicsville, is that godawful hellhole they call Cold Harbor. You ever been there?
ME: “Can’t say as I have, General.”
USG: “Consider yourself fortunate. Dust, bullets, blood. … worst twelve days of my whole career. Didn’t lose. Didn’t win. Seven thousand of our men killed in one day. Everybody blamed me for it. Said I was probably drunk.”
ME: “Were you?”
USG: “Well, no, not exactly. Maybe afterwards. Look … you lose seven thousand men in a few hours and I guarantee you’re damn well gonn’a need a little anesthesia. So you might say I was anesthetized. I wouldn’t call it drunk. Maybe a little unsteady. Mathew Brady took a photograph of me being unsteady. I was leaning against a pine tree right after the slaughter, slightly anesthetized ... unsteady, like I said. Not drunk. Just sort’a working up to it. Got a load on about a half-hour after that picture was taken.”
ME: “There’s no doubt a good shot of whiskey can smooth out some of life’s rough spots.”
USG: “Don’t have to convince me. If I hadn’t been a bit oiled at Shiloh we’d’a probably lost.”
ME: How about Fort Donelson?”
USG: “Same thing. All that stuff about courage in a bottle was damned true in my case. Battle of the Wilderness? Hell, Lee and the boys thought they had me whipped but I threw away the cork on the second night. Had nothing to lose. We pushed on. Never let up. If Lee would’a liked whiskey as much as me he’d’a understood.”
ME: “I recall reading that some of Lincoln’s cabinet and a few of the generals went to him and complained that you drank too much. Wanted him to fire you and get somebody else.”
USG: “Yes. That’s true.”
ME: “He told them to go and find out what whiskey you drank, because he wanted to send a barrel of it to all his generals.”

"USG: “Yes. Led by that pompous stuffed shirt, McClellan. The whiskey was Old Crow. Fine recipe. Very smooth stuff. Dr. James Crow himself sent me two cases after he found out about that. Helped the overall war effort significantly.”
ME: “How so?”
USG: “We won.”
(Grant removed a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it with a wooden match.)
USG: By the way, you wouldn’t happen to have a little snort squirreled away in the glove compartment would you?
ME: “I never drink and drive, General.”
USG: “More’s the pity.”
ME: “I can pull off at the next exit if you like. Might have a state store there.”
USG: “Naah. I don’t want to be a bad influence.”
ME: “By the way, I’ve seen reports that you got pretty far in the bottle at Vicksburg.”
USG: “Actually, no, that was north of Vicksburg. Yazoo River. Was on a gunboat going upriver to check the troops. You know how one thing can lead to another? Well the one thing that led to another on that particular occasion happened to be a tin cup of whiskey and I followed that up with another as a natural consequence. Then one more after that for dessert. Pretty sizeable cup, too. Took my mind off Vicksburg. That was the toughest nut to crack in the whole war. Had to lay siege.”
ME: “You and General Sherman were pretty tight friends. Was he a drinker, too?
USG: “Sherman? Naw. He wasn’t too fond of the bottle, although he took a quart of whiskey with him when he got General Joseph E. Johnston to surrender. Shared it liberally with Johnston and Confederate General Breckenridge, too, although Breckenridge called him a hog for stuffing it back in his saddlebag and not sharing more than one glass.”

… No, you see, Sherman’s problem wasn’t being drunk. It was being crazy. He stood up for me against the claim that I was alcoholic and I stood up for him against the claim that he was nuts, which he was. We got along pretty good.”
“I am a damned sight smarter than Grant; I know a great deal more about war, military history, strategy, and grand tactics than he does. I know more about organization, supply, and administration and about everything else than he does; but I’ll tell you where he beats me and where he beats the world. He don’t care a damn for what the enemy does out of his sight; but it scares the hell out of me.”
ME: “I remember reading about the big ball you hosted at the capitol after your inauguration as president. That was quite a spread, General.”
USG: “Yes it was. Had eighty roasted turkeys, 1,800 pounds of oysters in the shell, eleven whole barbecued pigs and God knows how many gallons of champagne. You could’ve eaten yourself to an early death there. Or got drowned in champagne if you preferred.”
ME: “So what’s your favorite food now.”
USG: “Sliced cucumbers in vinegar, hands down. All through the war. Still my favorite breakfast.”
Hey Bob,
Absolutely fantastic column!! We’re heading out tomorrow to fetch some Old Crow. You’re the best , my man!!
Mike and Joan