The Great Uprising (4)
While the Confederate States of America boasted several key cities, few possessed the strategic importance of Atlanta. It was, for all intents and purposes, the only supply route and railway hub connecting the eastern state of Virginia to the agricultural heartlands of the west. The moment this link was severed, the Eastern Front in Virginia would have no means of holding its ground.
Beyond its role as a transportation artery, Georgia—and Atlanta in particular—housed a significant portion of the Confederacy’s military industrial base. It was, effectively, the second-largest industrial city after Richmond. Furthermore, if Atlanta were to fall, the South’s largest port, Savannah, would be left dangerously exposed by land.
Because everyone understood this simple truth, both the North and the South fought with everything they had to either capture or defend it. The North placed its command under General Sherman, who had skyrocketed to fame after his strike on the rehabilitation centers, while the South countered by appointing the capable defensive expert, Joseph Johnston, as the commander of the entire Western Theater.
The invading Northern force numbered over 100,000, and the defending Southern army stood at 70,000, so the front did not tilt in either direction immediately. Johnston focused on occupying and holding the hilly terrain that favored defense, while Sherman refused to throw his troops pointlessly into such lines, opting instead to constantly flank and push the enemy back.
From a macroscopic perspective, Johnston’s strategy was not wrong. However, that was merely the view of the Confederate government and the field commanders; the perspective of the Governor, who was responsible solely for Georgia, seemed entirely different.
"Is that so?"
Ordinarily, the Governor holds the ultimate responsibility for maintaining public order within each state. But once the war began, both the North and the South had stripped the states of nearly all their soldiers and resources through total mobilization, and Georgia was among those that had been bled dry the most.
"Georgia's soldiers and resources should be used for Georgia! How much longer are we expected to endure this?"
"Your point is well taken. However, General Johnston has committed 70,000 troops to defend Atlanta..."
"And they are doing nothing but consuming our food and supplies without even putting up a proper fight!"
Telling me that won't exactly solve anything. In truth, from the perspective of Governor Joseph Brown, it must feel like being robbed by the government all day long, so I could understand his frustration. But with reports of uprisings breaking out all over Georgia, aren't you being a bit too relaxed?
The more relaxed he is, the better it is for me, but I wonder if this is really the right time for that.
"Governor, I have already reported this, but shouldn't we be doing something about the riots boiling over across the state? As the Deputy Commander of the Public Security Force, I must carry out my duties..."
"The Georgia Militia has its own discipline and system. I would be grateful for your help, but shouldn't we be the ones responsible for this place?"
"But the President..."
"That damn President! Each state is guaranteed its own autonomy under the Constitution, yet now he wants to send the Defense Force under the pretext of maintaining order? Is this not a scheme to seize our rear guard under the guise of keeping the peace?"
"...Excuse me?"
What kind of creative nonsense is this? Does he think I’m a plant sent by the President to secretly seize control of the Georgia Militia? But looking at it from the Governor's perspective, it wasn't entirely unreasonable to think that way, which made the situation a massive headache.
"Governor, did I not just tell you? A mass prison break occurred at a facility holding thirty slaves, and a militia captain who tried to stop it was killed in the line of duty. This is a signal that there may be a large-scale uprising..."
"In the end, that is all just speculation, is it not?"
No, no, you frustrating man. It’s fine to have a power struggle with the President, but you need to at least acknowledge that a large-scale riot has occurred and hand over command to me. That way, I can at least make up an excuse that the situation is too dire and that I need to retreat quickly.
Wait, if the Governor is too oblivious to grasp the situation and insists on handling it himself, isn't that actually a good thing for me? When I arrived, the situation was already beyond repair, and now, with the conflict between the Governor and the President added to the mix, there is truly no way to fix it.
It’s not an excuse; I’ve truly become the shrimp caught in the middle of a whale fight.
I desperately suppressed the twitching of my lips and, acting the part of a true soldier sacrificed to foolish political logic, I spoke with feigned gravity.
"Governor, this is no time for such things. Even at this very moment, slaves are tearing down Georgia's infrastructure, and innocent victims are mounting."
"That is why I am saying I will mobilize the militia to handle it. Colonel Seuret, you shall assist me."
"...Understood. However, Governor, there are almost no troops left in the rear that can be used to maintain order. If we miss the golden time, even I will have no way to salvage the situation."
I planted that little disclaimer to ensure this is absolutely not my responsibility. I, James Seuret, am now a man of true soldierly spirit. A genuine soldier who loves his homeland so much that he follows even unjust orders—that is who I am. James Seuret.
"However, if you wish to handle this chaos yourself, Governor, I will humbly follow your command."
Perhaps because he judged me to be a true patriotic soldier, or perhaps because he thought he had perfectly intimidated the plant sent by Davis, the Governor’s expression softened.
"As I heard, you are a man who speaks reason. If only there were more patriots like you, this war would have been much easier."
If only. If there were just one more of me, the Civil War would have ended long ago. Of course, that doesn't mean it would have been a Southern victory.
Anyway, I agreed to do my best to help him handle the situation as an advisor for the time being, and we received reports together in the Governor's office. Governor Brown was full of confidence at first.
"Send a telegram to Montgomery immediately! Tell them that I will handle Georgia's security myself, and that they are not to interfere in our internal affairs any further!"
"Yes. I will execute that immediately."
But not long after, the telegraph operator came running back in, dripping with sweat.
"The telegraph lines have been severed. We are disconnected from Montgomery, as well as Atlanta, Savannah—everywhere!"
"What!"
Brown’s face stiffened for the first time. Cutting the telegraph lines is the basic first step of sabotage, so of course it happened. If the telegraph had been working perfectly, I would have been the one truly shocked.
Of course, this was just the beginning. It didn't take long for the Governor's office to descend into chaos.
"Governor! A messenger just arrived from Savannah! They say black smoke is billowing from the port! The logistics warehouses are burning!"
"They say rioters are swarming everywhere. The militia remaining in the rear cannot cope with..."
CRASH!
Governor Brown slammed his fist onto the desk.
"John Brown! It must be those plants of his! That man has set his next target as our Georgia. But he won't get away with it. No, indeed!"
He immediately shouted at the militia commander.
"Immediately! Issue a call-up order to the militia across all of Georgia! I will round up every one of these traitors and hang them as an example!"
He then added, flashing a relaxed smile at me.
"If we combine our militia members with the security forces you brought, we can easily suppress them. First, we will sweep them out calmly, starting from the outskirts, like hunting rabbits."
A rabbit-hunting operation that would make even Napoleon weep. However, his confident call-up order was met only with despair. The reports from the messengers arriving from each county were all screams of panic.
"Governor! The Macon County militia cannot move! They say their own farm barns are burning!"
"In Albany, hundreds of plantation slaves have raided the armory and fled into the forest! The militia cannot respond to the call-up because they are busy chasing them down...!"
Of course. Their own front yards are burning, and slaves have risen up on their own farms; who would listen if you told them to come to Milledgeville, the state capital? It’s the perfect situation for them to tell you to go to hell. The militia system had completely collapsed.
The Governor had confidently issued a call-up order, but the militia force that gathered in Milledgeville was a mere 32 men. This was a number perfect for getting beaten to death if they went to suppress the slaves.
Furthermore, the supply officer for General Johnston’s army burst through the office door, his face deathly pale.
"They say the railway has been cut, blocking the path for food supplies! All the materials that were supposed to be sent to General Johnston’s unit, which is facing the Northern army, are stuck in the middle! What should we do?"
"H-how, how should we..."
They needed troops to gather to command or suppress anything, but the alpha and omega—the troops—numbered only 30. Meanwhile, the reports coming in from outside were relentless.
"Governor! It's Augusta! A riot has broken out near the Augusta Arsenal! They say there appear to be at least 500 of those rebels!"
They had barely managed to gather 32 men here, and the first report already mentioned 500.
"W-what! Then gather the troops near Augusta first and...!"
"There is a message from Columbus, too! The textile mills and ironworks along the Chattahoochee River are burning! One group is estimated at over 300, and another is identified as over 400! Combined, that’s over a thousand!"
"W-what? Over a thousand?"
Governor Brown’s face began to turn a sickly shade of blue. You’re starting to get the feeling that things are screwed, aren't you? But surprisingly, this was still just the beginning.
"There is contact from Darien, too...! The grain farms on the coast have all been turned upside down! The blacks have tied up the overseers and are opening the warehouses!"
"Just how widespread is this spreading!"
From 300 to 500, past 700 to 1,000, and now even 3,000. The numbers were swelling like the combat power of a warrior race. At this rate, the Governor’s scouter was going to explode.
The blood drained from the faces of all the officials in the office and the officer who had to command the measly 32 militia members.
"This... is this the work of John Brown?"
"No, even so... this is..."
"Governor! A plea for help has come in from the southwest. All the plantation belts between Americus and Albany are...!"
Was that the area Yona was supposed to be in charge of? Since it was a place filled to the brim with slaves, it would produce some very interesting numbers. As expected, the messenger shouted without even being able to catch his breath.
"The estimate... the estimate is impossible! There are dozens of groups of over a hundred... it might exceed 5,000. Governor! We need a countermeasure...!"
Crack. It sounded as if something—whether it was the Governor’s scouter or his sanity—had shattered. Even before the report of 5,000 could finish, reports of uprisings involving 1,000 or 2,000 people followed from other regions.
In just one day, the number of slaves who had risen up across Georgia had already exceeded ten thousand. The fact that the number identified on the very first day was ten thousand meant that the reality was far greater, and it was no different from saying it would continue to increase endlessly.
Thud.
"......"
Governor Brown dropped the pen he had been holding. No matter how much one wishes to ignore reality and run away, time flows equally and cruelly straight for everyone.
Even as I stared into the eyes of the Governor, who was drenched in bewilderment and fear, reports of the rebel forces growing in every region were ringing out endlessly outside the office door like an orchestra.
"C-Colonel Seuret... how do we..."
How do we what? Can't you tell from the reports? It’s over.