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understand what we must do to win this war?”
    Seeley felt weight behind the question, wasn’t sure what Forrest was expecting from him.
    “I think so, sir. We must kill Yankees.”
    “That is partially accurate. We must kill more of them than they can kill of us. But we must do much more. We must show more courage than the Yankees. We must show more spirit and more fire and more of everything that makes a soldier. There are far more of them, and they bring much more to the fight than we can put in their way, more artillery, more gunboats, more horses, more recruits. If we are to win this war, our leaders must be … well, smart . Or better than that, they must be ingenious . We cannot repeat the mistakes that occurred at Fort Donelson. We allowed the Yankees to get the better of our measure, Lieutenant. We must make better decisions, faster decisions, we must strike hard and often and in the most unexpected way. We must find the enemy’s weaknesses and exploit them without hesitation.” He paused and Seeley waited for more. Forrest said slowly, “As for you and me … we must have the will to face that man in the blue coat and we must drive our knife into his heart, and when the blood spills, we must not turn away.”
    Seeley felt Forrest’s glare, nodded slowly.
    “I understand, sir.”
    Forrest tilted his head slightly, still stared at him.
    “No, son, you don’t. Not yet.”
    O n February 23, Forrest’s scouts reported the arrival of the first column of Federal troops, just across the Cumberland River at the small town of Edgefield. Though great quantities of supplies still lay scattered throughout the depots and warehouses of Nashville, Forrest’s men, and the others charged with shipping those supplies south, had no choice. What could not be hauled aboard wagons and the limited number of railcars had to be put to the torch. Then, with no fanfare, Forrest and his cavalry rode away from the city. Two days later, on February 25, the mayor of Nashville, who understood the perfect inevitability of his situation, surrendered the capital of Tennessee to the Federal forces, without a shot being fired.

CHAPTER TWO

    JOHNSTON

    MURFREESBORO, TENNESSEE FEBRUARY 26, 1862
    “ W e could do little else, sir. It was a most unglamorous affair.”
    Forrest was pacing, ignored the others in the room, and Johnston allowed the man’s anger, would not insist on decorum. There was already too much anger in this army, and Forrest was one of the few who had earned the right to complain. Forrest kept up his pacing, filled the small office, avoided the others, who sat in opposite corners, away from Johnston’s desk.
    “I’m not sure how much of the stores were burned, General. We could not salvage as much as I had hoped … as much as I was ordered to, sir. This army will suffer for that.” Forrest paused, and Johnston could see he had something more to say, something rehearsed.
    “You have more, Colonel?”
    “Sir, if you will allow, my men will return to Nashville … well, perhaps the southern perimeter of the city. We can strike hard at the enemy with discretion. No doubt the Yankees are feeling fat and lazy with their easy conquest, and their guard will be down. My men have become quite adept in the quick strike. I will assure you that our losses will be kept to a minimum.”
    Johnston shook his head.
    “No. I believe the enemy is expecting us to stand tall, and he will be preparing for us. He knows what we sacrificed by abandoning Nashville, and he knows that our retreat was extremely unpopular. I am quite certain the citizens there are squalling every chance they get. I have great appreciation for the striking power of cavalry, Colonel, and your men have performed extremely well. But they have been in the saddle for too long, and you must not drive them to exhaustion. I am sending you south, to Huntsville. Camp your men there, and allow them rest. You cannot drive your men or their mounts without some