
In this excellent lecture, Professor Jennifer Murray discusses the Civil War career of Major General George G. Meade.

In this excellent lecture, Professor Jennifer Murray discusses the Civil War career of Major General George G. Meade.

Here’s our personal astrophysicist, Neil deGrasse Tyson, giving a tutorial on critically evaluating internet sources.
The video’s description reads, “In a world overflowing with opinions, clips, conspiracies, and AI-generated answers, how do you know what’s actually true? Neil deGrasse Tyson breaks down his personal checklist for navigating the modern information landscape—yellow flags, red flags, and why evidence-based thinking matters more than ever. From scientific claims and podcasts to clipped videos and industry commentary, Neil shows you how to separate signal from noise and think like a scientist in the digital age. How do you tell what’s real? Neil deGrasse Tyson breaks down how to tell which sources are trustworthy and which yellow flags to look out for. In an age of so much information, how do you parse what’s real and what’s misinformation?”

This is an excellent discussion between host Jon Stewart and his guests, Professor Allen C. Guelzo and Professor Joanne Freeman.
The episode’s description tells us, “As debates over what it means to be a “heritage American” enter mainstream political discourse, Jon is joined by University of Florida Professor Allen C. Guelzo and Yale historian Joanne Freeman, host of ‘History Matters’ podcast. Together, they examine what this loaded term actually means, explore how American identity has been defined and contested throughout the nation’s history, and discuss the central role immigrants have always played in shaping who we are. Plus, Jon talks about the ‘enemy of the people’ and presidential pardons!
0:00 – Intro
2:01 – Allen C. Guelzo & Joanne Freeman Join
9:22 – The Idea(s) of America
16:23 – Elites vs. Monarchs
20:00 – The Contradiction of the Founding Fathers
25:29 – How did the Founders View Immigration?
33:59 – When Did Immigration Come to the Forefront of America?
38:43 – Heritage Americans & The Civil War
46:00 – The American Revolution Is Not Over
51:15 – The Beginning of Immigration Reforms
1:00:34 – Trump’s Somali Comment
1:12:04 – A Diverse Society is Not a Risk
1:16:18 – Breaking Down the Discussion”

This book by Professor Rowena Reed looks at military operations in the Civil War that involved both army and naval forces acting in concert. Today we would call these joint operations, with the term combined operations referring to actions involving militaries from more than one country acting together. In this study she focuses on operations involving the United States Army and the United States Navy cooperating together.
In explaining the organization of her book, Professor Reed writes, “Since this study examines both the strategic and tactical application of Federal combined operations, it is organized into three parts, corresponding to the different uses of combined forces at various stages of the war. Part I explains the evolution of combined strategy from Lincoln’s proclamation of the blockade in April 1861 until McClellan’s removal as commanding general of the United States Army in March 1862. Part II examines the collapse of combined strategy incident to this change of command, its repercussions in the various military departments, and the split between the Army and the Navy over strategic priorities in the middle period of the war. Part III describes the evolution of combined tactics, and the relation of amphibious operations to Union war strategy, from the naval attack on Charleston in April 1863 to the reduction of Fort Fisher in the early months of 1865.” [p. x]
While the United States had an overwhelming naval superiority over the confederacy, there was still a problem. “A major strategic problem confronting the United States in the war with the Confederacy was how to employ its almost total naval superiority against a continental enemy. The necessarily defensive tasks of commerce raiding and coast protection during the Revolution and the War of 1812 had not prepared the U.S. Navy for a role as an invader. The limited experience of the Mexican War and minor campaigns against the Indians, while better than no experience at all, had not been sufficient to produce a very exacting approach to military problems or skill in handling large bodies of troops. Nor had the Navy’s experiences with blockade during the Mexican conflict or patrol to suppress the slave trade taught its officers how to command whole squadrons of vessels, and exploit their strategic or tactical possibilities. Despite the existence of West Point for fifty years and the recent founding of the Naval Academy, there were still few truly professional officers in either service.” [p. xii]
“The handicaps of inexperience and a still ‘amateurish’ approach to war,” she writes, might have been more quickly overcome had the Union forces not been burdened by an awkward command structure. At the head of the Army was the senior major general, variously styled the general-in-chief, the commanding general, the commander-in-chief, or simply the major general commanding. This office, filled by executive appointment, had no legal status and its authority was based solely upon the seniority of that individual in the regular army. Field command was determined in the same haphazard manner; that is, the senior officer present with a unit–in this case, including volunteer ranks–was automatically in command if he chose to be. Not surprisingly, arguments over who ranked who were common obstacles to the war effort.” [p. xiii]
The Navy had problems as well. “The command structure of the United States Navy was even more primitive. There was no chief of naval operations, nor was any one officer appointed commander of the United States Fleet so that he might consult directly in an official capacity with his Army counterpart. The lack of such an office, not to mention the lack of either an army or a naval staff, was a serious obstacle to combined operations. The highest professional appointment was that of squadron commander (commodore), or flag officer, later designated rear admiral. While the Navy escaped the Army’s problem of seniority for operational commands, grades were generally lower in the Navy and their equivalents in Army ranks not always clear. This caused confusion, especially in the West when the Mississippi Squadron was under the authority of the War Department and its officers thus subject to orders from their Army ‘seniors.’” [p. xiii]
According to Professor Reed, “Formulation of Army plans was the responsibility of the commanding general, subject to approval by the president and his Cabinet. Naval plans were devised by the secretary of the Navy or, in the Civil War, by the assistant secretary. Although squadron commanders were often encouraged to submit ideas and plans for specific naval or combined operations, no naval officer presumed to advise on naval strategy or operations as a whole (except for Captain Samuel F. Du Pont, when he was chairman of the Blockade Board). The higher military functions remained the prerogative of the civilian secretary. Furthermore, the secretaries were not required to cooperate or even consult with one another, or with the general-in-chief. This already confused politico-military chain of command was further complicated by the appointment, by both the president and the Congress, of special boards and committees. Washington swarmed with amateur Napoleons. Regardless of the merits or defects of any particular strategy, without a central planning and control agency, whether military or civilian, it was extremely unlikely that any one strategic idea would emerge in well-defined form and be consistently implemented.” [p. xiv]
Professor Reed has an appreciation of Major General George B. McClellan unsullied by the unreasoning hatred of the Stephen Sears school of McClellan interpretation. She’s willing to take his ideas seriously instead of simply dismissing them out of hand because Lincoln didn’t like them. “The appointment of McClellan to succeed Scott as general-in-chief in November 1861 temporarily brought order to the formulation of Federal strategy. Although he respected the Napoleonic concepts of mass and firepower on the battlefield, McClellan believed that it was no longer necessary (if indeed it was still possible) to destroy the enemy’s armies to gain a decisive victory. American geography and the extension of interstate rail lines in the 1850s made a different strategy against the South possible. Deprived of this ‘nervous system,’ large armies could not be maintained for extended periods at long distances from their base. Bludgeoning the enemy to death was unsound military logic when he could easily be paralyzed by the disruption of his internal communications. McClellan also saw, as General von Moltke’s later operations would confirm, that the strongest form of warfare under changed conditions was a combination of the strategic offense and the tactical defense. The increased range and accuracy of small arms and field guns was not the only factor diminishing the effectiveness of offensive battlefield tactics. Railways, again, were significant. They not only permitted a large initial concentration of troops in the field; they provided for constant supply and reinforcement from the rear. The enemy’s fortified line became more and more extended and long difficult maneuvers by detachments were required to outflank it. Such movements were perilous for an army on exterior lines, because the enemy could either fall on the enveloping column or meet the expected flank attack with a new fortified line. That the Confederates frequently succeeded with flanking maneuvers during the first two years of the war while the Federals generally failed was due almost entirely to superior Southern mobility and discipline. An added factor strengthening the defense was the facility for transporting heavy guns, materials for constructing gun emplacements and field works, and the continuous supply of ammunition.” [pp. xv-xvi]
She further considers McClellan’s strategic thought. “Of the men in the Federal high command, professional and civilian, during the first two years of the war only General McClellan envisioned the use of combined operations as the foundation of a comprehensive plan to paralyze the South from within. Perceiving the futility of relying on the slow and uncertain process of blockade, McClellan meant to grasp the enemy by the throat. The destruction of the main Confederate army in Virginia, even if possible, would not be decisive, for as long as Southern resources and the means to move them remained intact, another army could be raised, equipped, and transported to the front in a remarkably short time. Nor would seizing one strategic point, (for example, one important rail junction) such as Richmond end the war quickly. The Confederates could evacuate Richmond, fall back along their rail lines into the interior and, placing themselves in most inaccessible positions, prolong the conflict indefinitely.” [p. xviii]
“Instead,” she tells us, “McClellan proposed using the great water highways of the South. Penetrating deep into the Confederacy along the Mississippi, the Tennessee, and the Cumberland rivers. Federal armies could seize the great East-West rail lines connecting the Mississippi Valley with the Atlantic and Gulf seaboard, and with Virginia. Pushing into the North Carolina sounds and up the Roanoke and Neuse rivers, they could disrupt Richmond’s lines to the Deep South and force the Confederate army in Virginia to disperse for lack of supplies. From their beachhead at Port Royal, South Carolina, Union troops could entrench themselves along the Charleston and Savannah Railroad, threatening both cities and preventing their garrisons from reinforcing one another. Seizure of the rail junction at Mobile would disrupt communications between middle Tennessee and western Mississippi. To free themselves from this death grip, Southern generals would have to hurl their men against strongly fortified positions which could not be invested while protected by Union warships or gunboats.” [p. xviii]
According to Professor Reed, “Had McClellan’s brilliant strategy been fully implemented, it would have ended the Civil War in 1862, as intended. Built upon the North’s primary assets–larger industrial capacity, greater manpower, and command of the sea–it minimized the South’s advantages of more skillful battlefield leadership, better troop discipline, and superior marching and fighting endurance. Equally important, his strategy was compatible with the Union government’s war aims–to restore Federal authority in the seceded states as quickly as possible, alt the least cost and with the least disruption of social and commercial life.” [pp. xviii-xix]
Henry Halleck, who next held the post of general-in-chief, “not only failed to exploit the strategic potential afforded by Union command of the sea, he actually disapproved of combined operations, and did not follow up McClellan’s initial coast expeditions.” [p. xix] Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant replaced Halleck as general-in-chief in March of 1864. “Grant’s preferred plan, which had the same object as McClellan’s, was never carried out. Government interference with military movements–a pernicious and intractable feature of Civil War operations–and Halleck’s still-pervasive influence as Army chief of staff–dictated a continuation of costly, unnecessary, and unproductive land-based offensives.” [pp. xix-xx]
This is an excellent book. Professor Reed provides cogent analysis and gives us superb insight into the strategies the US commanders pursued. If you’re a serious student of the Civil War, you need to read this book.

This is a pretty good conversation between host Professor Gerald Prokopowicz and his guest, Alexandre Caillot.

This book by Professor R. Steven Jones focuses on the use of personal staffs in the Civil War, particularly by selected US Army commanders. “On paper, Civil War commanders had the organization at hand to give them the help they sorely needed–the military staff. Civil War historians Herman Hattaway and Archer Jones call the military staff a commander’s ‘management team,’ assigned to make the general’s job easier. Staff systems in both North and South were alike, for the Confederate Army copied the U.S. Army’s staff organization. Every general with a field command had a staff, sometimes called a ‘general staff,’ sometimes a ‘field staff.’ That staff was divided in two: One-half was the special staff, which handled the problems of supply and transportation for the command, be it division, corps, or army; the other was the ‘personal staff,’ which kept the records of the army and sent orders to combat units.” [p. viii]
He tells us, “On June 22, 1861, the U.S. Congress passed an act that allowed each brigade commander one assistant adjutant general and two aides-de-camp for his personal staff. The number of staff officers increased at higher command levels, and generals often took as many staffers as the War Department would approve, with the assistant adjutant general acting as the commander’s main assistant. As the war progressed, generals commanding independent armies usually had one chief of staff (acting as the main assistant instead of the assistant adjutant general), two military secretaries, up to seven aides-de-camp, two assistant adjutants general, and one inspector general. … An efficient personal staff could collect information, prepare plans, translate decisions and plans into orders, send those orders to lower echelons, see that orders were properly executed, and give opinions to commanders. Yet traditional usage in the army, and perhaps a commander’s uncertainty about what to do with his personal staff, often relegated staffers to the roles of office clerks or couriers.” [p. ix]
“Guidelines for personal staff,” he writes, “did exist in 1861, and they came from Europe, largely France and Prussia, where the Napoleonic Wars had swelled the size of armies, and, necessarily, advanced the duties and the functions of the staff. Military theorists in France and Prussia wrote about staff duties and organization, and some translations of their work were in the United States and available for Civil War generals to use. Their writings revealed that modern headquarters staffs had three major elements: clearly defined organization and duties; well-educated staff officers; and chiefs of staff who played key roles in the function of the staff. France and Prussia also developed national entities–the Staff Corps in the former, the Great General Staff in the latter–that trained staff officers specifically for assignments with field commanders. Those national staffs also developed wartime strategies and policies that staff officers used as guidelines when assisting army commanders. With no national general staff to help them, and with few War Department guidelines for staff work beyond the proper form for filling out reports, Civil War personal staff officers were adrift. Rather than reflect a national standard, staffs usually reflected the character of their commanding general and did as much–or as little–as he expected of them.” [pp. ix-x]
Professor Jones looks at how four commanders used their staffs: Major General George B. McClellan, General Robert E. Lee, Lieutenant General Ulysses S. Grant, and Major General William T. Sherman. In summarizing the results of his study he tells us, “Lee, a former staff officer himself, made the least use of his staff of any of the four men. To achieve so much in his three years of command would almost mandate an efficient staff with clarity of purpose, but Lee actually had few staffers and delegated to them few responsibilities beyond the prewar norms. Lee also made limited and ill-defined use of his chief of staff, Gen. Robert H. Chilton. Sherman had an economical view of staff work that was almost the antithesis of European staff usage. He believed staffs should be small, and he did not use them in any but the traditional functions of writing and delivering orders. Because Sherman trusted the commanders of armies under his command to execute his general strategies and orders, he would have considered it redundant to send a man from his headquarters to oversee their execution. Though Sherman did not make any staff advances, the traditional role of staffers worked satisfactorily in his command situation.” [pp. xiv-xv]
According to Professor Jones, “McClellan showed flashes of insight in his staff usage, and he picked his father-in-law, the capable frontier soldier Randolph B. Marcy, to be his chief of staff. McClellan’s tenure in command was brief, though, and he tempered any staff advances he might have made by frequently acting as his own chief of staff. Grant, renowned as perhaps the greatest general of the war, earns yet another military honor as the most progressive of the four in his conception of staff work. With an able chief, John Aaron Rawlins, and a willingness to listen to his staffers’ opinions, Grant molded his staff from a ragged collection of civilians with little military knowledge into a professional body functioning, albeit crudely and briefly, after the fashion of both a Prussian headquarters staff and Prussia’s Great General Staff. Grant’s staff advances were exigencies of war, which the increasing size of his armies triggered. He did not study staff progress in Prussia or intend to mirror his staff after any foreign army. But, with each of Grant’s victories his command grew, and, like commanders in Prussia, he needed a more efficient, professional staff at headquarters to help him manage his armies. Grant saw a need and created a staff to fill it.” [p. xv]
“In the end,” he tells us, “when a general sought personal staff improvements, three factors usually encouraged him to do so. The first factor was army size. Simply, the larger the force under his command, the more a general might seek staff help controlling it. The second factor was cooperative operations–separate columns or armies working toward a mutual objective. That may have involved separating an army for a two- or three-prong thrust in a single battle, or having two or three independent armies work in concert for a single campaign. The last, and most important factor, was the commander’s willingness to improve staff work. If a general saw no real benefit in staff work, then neither the presence of a large army nor a plan calling for cooperative operations could encourage him to improve it.” [p. xv]
Use of staff was one of the ways I identified Grant outperformed Lee in my own studies, and it’s gratifying to see the results of at least one academic study agree with my findings. This book fills a need by focusing on the use of personal staffs, which is an understudied topic. The only real criticism I have is the lower quality binding, at least on my copy, Stackpole used in putting the book together. I can highly recommend this book for serious students of the Civil War.

This is an excellent discussion of Phil Sheridan between host Chris Mackowski and his guest, Professor Jonathan Noyalas.

I found this article by retired Major General Mark Hertling: “On November 19, 1863—162 years ago today—the little town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, filled with soldiers, dignitaries, and townsfolk. Scars of the intense fighting of four months earlier, one of the bloodiest battles ever on American soil, were everywhere: barns riddled with damage from cannonballs, trees stripped bare, hastily dug graves marking where regiments had fallen. Cadavers of some rebel troops could still be seen rotting in the sun. The smell of decay was everywhere. Months earlier, Governor Andrew Curtin of Pennsylvania and a committee of state officials had concluded that a national military burial ground, placed next to the graveyard that overlooked the town on Cemetery Hill, was needed. It would honor the Union dead but as importantly restore some measure of dignity to the local farmers’ fields that had become a landscape of horror. The idea was noble, but the execution was hurried. The politicians had wanted to dedicate the cemetery in October, but the chosen orator, Edward Everett—a former secretary of state, governor of Massachusetts, U.S. senator, and president of Harvard—was unavailable. The distinguished-looking 69-year-old was considered the finest public speaker in the country, a man of enormous erudition and polished delivery; the elected officials of Pennsylvania were more than willing to accommodate his schedule, and so postponed the dedication a month.”
He continues, “Invitations were sent to governors, generals, and public officials. As an afterthought, President Abraham Lincoln was also asked to participate and was politely requested to deliver ‘a few appropriate remarks.’ Lincoln was the one who would follow the main act. The morning of November 19 dawned crisp and bright. Crowds gathered along the newly graded road, carriages clogging the narrow streets of Gettysburg. Bands played patriotic airs as the procession slowly made its way to the speakers’ platform. When Everett took the podium, he spoke for two hours from a memorized speech, describing the history of the republic, the causes of the war, and the heroism of the fallen. It was a learned, elegant address—meticulously constructed, intellectually rigorous, and entirely in keeping with the conventions of nineteenth-century public rhetoric. The audience was enthralled, and at the end, they applauded energetically. Then Lincoln stood. The rangy 54-year-old loomed above the dignitaries seated on the platform. His voice was pitched higher than the audience expected as, reading from a single sheet of paper, he spoke for barely two minutes—272 words in all. Some listeners were startled; a newspaper reporter later wrote that Lincoln’s speech ‘passed unnoticed by many’; another noted that its brevity was ‘a disappointment.’”
Gen Hertling tells us, “But Everett, the featured orator, understood. The next day, he wrote to Lincoln: ‘I should be glad, if I could flatter myself that I came as near to the central idea of the occasion, in two hours, as you did in two minutes.’ It’s easy, from hindsight, to treat the Gettysburg Address just as one of our nation’s greatest speeches, a long-ago eulogy years for a war whose outcome we take for granted. But in November 1863, the outcome of the Civil War was anything but certain. Union forces would still suffer staggering losses for more than another year. The Confederate Army had returned from Pennsylvania and regained strong defensive lines in the South. Anti-war sentiment was still growing in the North, and Lincoln’s own political prospects were uncertain heading into the election year of 1864. Chaos remained for many months after the dedication ceremony at Gettysburg. The nation, in truth, still hung by a thread. Imagine the mood of the country that autumn. The casualty lists in Northern newspapers filled entire columns. Families across the nation grieved sons and fathers buried in places they would never see. The political debate was bitter and relentless. The press accused Lincoln of incompetence, even madness. Everywhere, people felt the nation’s center was giving way. The republic, it seemed, might not survive. And yet Lincoln spoke as if it would—as if its survival were not just possible, but necessary, and a part of our civic responsibility.”
We read, “The Declaration of Independence, to which Lincoln pointed in his opening line, had promised equality but had not delivered it. Lincoln’s genius was to reinterpret that document through the lens of the war’s suffering. In doing so, Lincoln took the present carnage honored at Gettysburg and used it to provide moral clarity for the future. In a time when the Union was far from saved, he dared to describe not what America had been or was, but what America ought to become based on the original promise. In that brief speech which illuminated a moment of both exhaustion and despair, Lincoln spoke not of the dead, nor even of victory. He spoke of purpose. He invited the country to see beyond the chaos—to glimpse the unfinished work of democracy itself. And then he asked his listeners to resolve that ‘this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom.’ That was the genius of the Gettysburg Address that should still speak to us today, that should still speak to us in all the days of our democracy. It was not a declaration of victory or even a statement of confidence; it was an act of faith. Faith in the principle that a government of the people, by the people, for the people could endure even after chaos, division, and unspeakable loss. Lincoln’s words reframed despair into determination. They told Americans that meaning could be forged from suffering. That unity was possible through shared purpose.”
According to Gen Hertling, “There’s another subtle feature of the address that still deserves attention. As a smart Marine once told me, pay attention to Lincoln’s insistent use of the plural. He did not say I or me. He said we, us, and our. ‘We are engaged in a great civil war. . .’ ‘We are met on a great battle-field of that war. . .’ ‘We are met to dedicate a portion of it. . ‘.’It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. . .’ ‘It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here. . .’ ‘. . . that we here highly resolve. . .’ Amid the most divisive period in American history, Lincoln’s pronouns were unifying. He refused to divide his listeners into North and South, Union and rebel, righteous and wrong. He spoke to America itself—to a desire for shared identity beyond politics, geography, or ideology. He offered not blame, but belonging. And that linguistic choice still provides something extremely profound. Great leaders do not shrink the circle of citizenship; they widen it. They remind us that the first word of our Constitution—We—is both promise and responsibility.”
He goes on to write, “Today, eight score and two years after Lincoln’s speech, we hear predictions of national unraveling, the fear of another civil conflict—political, cultural, or even physical. We hear voices insisting that the ‘real America’ belongs to one side or another, that compromise is weakness, that empathy is naïve. It shouldn’t be overstated, but it’s true that the mood of November 2025 has echoes of November 1863 when Lincoln spoke: anxiety about the future, anger over leadership, distrust in institutions, and a creeping sense that we are two nations sharing the same land. But Lincoln’s message at Gettysburg remains a counterweight to despair. Democracy isn’t maintained by perfection; it is renewed by participation. Our republic survives not because of certainty, but because of faith: faith in each other, and in the unfinished work of freedom. When Lincoln spoke he had no guarantee that the Union would prevail, no promise that slavery would end, no assurance that he himself would live to see peace. Yet he still called Americans to imagine a better future—one founded on equality, liberty, and especially shared responsibility. If he could speak of a “new birth of freedom” amid such darkness, surely, we can speak of national renewal today—not as nostalgia, but as obligation, a shared purpose toward which we can work.”
He concludes, “A few weeks ago, I was with some friends at the place where Lincoln gave his address. That portion of the cemetery, where Lincoln spoke, remains one of the quietest places in America. The wind moves across the ridge, brushing the flags and passing across the graves. And if you stand there long enough, you can almost hear his words carried back through time—not as history, but as instruction. ‘It is for us the living. . .‘ “

In this excellent book, Professor Donald Stoker discusses the strategies of both sides in the Civil War and evaluates them using the writings of Karl von Clausewitz and Antoine Jomini. He writes, “To the mid-nineteenth-century American mind, strategy largely meant the maneuvering of forces … Essentially, this simplified it to mean what we would today call a combination of tactics, meaning the use of military forces in contact with or near contact with the enemy, and operations, the military campaigns mounted to prosecute the strategy. And indeed, most of the studies of Civil War strategy, even the ones that interject theory, and despite insistence to the contrary, invariably focus upon tactics, or at best campaigns. Worse, these efforts have too often been based upon the misreading or misunderstanding of the theoretical teachings they profess to use.” [pp. 2-3]
“The core of Clausewitz’s theory,” Professor Stoker tells us, “is that war is driven by a trinity of forces: chance, passion, and rationality. These are respectively governed (usually) by the military, the people, and the government. Their interrelationships dictate the nature of the war to be waged. Clausewitz defines strategy as ‘the use of the engagement for the purpose of the war.’ We go beyond this in our definition, as does Clausewitz when he develops his concept by giving us the general’s job in relation to this: ‘The strategist must therefore define an aim for the entire operational side of the war that will be in accordance with its purpose. In other words, he will draft the plan of the war, and the ain will determine the series of actions intended to achieve it.’” [p. 3]
In discussing Jomini, we find, “For military and political leaders of the Civil War era, Jomini was the source of technical vocabulary. When they write about strategy and its related issues, it is generally in Jominian phrases. Jomini, in his short definition, wrote, ‘Strategy is the art of making war upon the map, and comprehends the whole theater of operations.’ This, as the late Michael Handel pointed out in Masters of War, is clearly a reference to the operational level of war. Clausewitz’s On War, Handel also noted, suffers from the same limitations, as much of the time when he says ‘strategy’ he means what is currently called operations, meaning what the military does to implement strategy. Jomini’s expansive definition encompassed thirteen points, but only the first two relate directly to the strategic realm: ‘the selection of the theater of war, and the discussion of the different combinations of which it admits’ and ‘the determination of the decisive points in these combinations, and the most favorable direction for operations.’ Jomini’s other planks deal with the operational level of war.” [pp. 3-4]

Professor Stoker introduces this inverted pyramid. “What it shows is that strategy–located in the precise middle of this inverted pyramid–is only a piece of the puzzle that is warfare, the most confusing and complex of human endeavors, and cannot be studied apart from its critical accompanying factors. The most important of these is policy, meaning the political objective or objectives sought by the governments in arms (these are sometimes described as war aims). Policy should inform strategy, provide the framework for its pursuit, but not dictate it. The term policy is often used when what is really being discussed is strategy or operations. Civil War leaders often spoke of ‘military policy’ when today we would speak of military strategy or operational strategy, depending upon the context. Strategy defines how military force is used in pursuit of the political goal.” [p. 5]
According to Professor Stoker, “Understanding the political objective is critical because it determines so much of where and how the war will be fought. Here, Clausewitz is particularly useful when he discusses determining the ‘nature of the war.,’ As he writes in On War, ‘The first, the supreme, the most far-reaching act of judgment that the statesman and commander have to make is to establish by that test the kind of war on which they are embarking; neither mistaking it for, nor trying to turn it into, something at is alien to its nature. This is the first of all strategic questions and the most comprehensive.’ One of the key elements here is ‘by that test.’ Clausewitz explains that the most important element determining what the war will be like is the political objective or objectives sought by the belligerents. Directly acting upon this is what he calls the value of the object, meaning that the importance the parties place upon the object (the political objective) will determine the duration of the war; Clausewitz argues that when one side is no longer willing to pay the costs of the war (blood, treasure, prestige, etc.), it will stop. This also influences the extremes to which a nation will go to prosecute the contest. The more valuable the object, the more willing the people and the state are to sacrifice.” [pp. 5-6]
He then turns his attention toward the Civil War. “During the Civil War the Union sought the complete destruction of the Confederacy’s government, an unlimited objective. The Confederates, on the other hand, [had a] more limited aim. They did not fight for the total destruction of the United States; they sought to secede and take with them some provinces. Connected to this is the touting of the Civil War as one of the first modern wars, if not the first. Several factors combine to produce this assessment. The first, once again, is the scale of the conflict. The Civil War was indeed a big war in many ways. It was a major conflict between two democracies in which both sides mobilized large segments of the population, sometimes via conscription. The second element was industrial mobilization. Fielding mass armies necessitates large quantities of equipment and supplies. Northern industry expanded to meet these demands; the South industrialized, at least in regard to arms and many of the accoutrements of war, in an effort to do the same. A third plank to the modernity argument revolves around technology. The Civil War is the war of the railroad, the steam engine, armored ships with turrets, telegraph communications, rifles, observation balloons, and trench warfare. None of these was the decisive element of the conflict, but all contributed to its character and influenced how it was fought., Most of these elements, though, affected only the tactical level; they exerted almost no influence on strategy.” [pp. 6-7]
The military instrument isn’t the only tool available to a belligerent government. “To pursue their goals in wartime, states tap their economic, political, and diplomatic resources. These nonmilitary components are sometimes lumped under the rubric soft power. All of these (including military strategy), are therefore elements of grand strategy. Implementing grand strategy requires the coordination of the various elements of national power with military strength. The term grand strategy is sometimes used to describe a major campaign or the broad sweep of a war (William Tecumseh Sherman used it this way), but that is too limited in scope.” [p. 7]
Getting back to Clausewitz’s writings, “Clausewitz proposes many useful concepts for analyzing and waging war at the strategic level. One was what he called ‘the center of gravity,’ which he describes as ‘the hub of all power and movement, on which everything depends.’ He then advises that this ‘is the point against which all our energies should be directed.’ In other words, the center of gravity is the source of the enemy’s strength. This is what should be broken, if possible, because its collapse can lead to the end of the war. Clausewitz’s centers of gravity include the army, public opinion, the capital city, the political leadership, and any allies. Destroying the enemy’s army is almost always the quickest way to achieve your political objective, Clausewitz believes. But he also cautions that every enemy is different and that, depending upon the situation, there might be more than one center. Here Clausewitz is often misread. He’s accused of arguing that the only path to success consists of destroying the enemy’s army. What he actually says is to do what works.” [p. 8]
Professor Stoker brings the operational level of war into his discussion. “Operations are what military forces do in an effort to implement military strategy. Importantly, this includes the activities of military forces before and after combat. The conduct of these operations is known as operational art or operational warfare, or, if one prefers, operational strategy. While no one from the Civil War era would have been familiar with this exact terminology, they often thought this way. The remaining eleven points of Jomini’s baker’s dozen definition of strategy largely deal with the operational level of war and its execution. They also explain some expressions that commonly arise in Civil War writing. For example, to Jomini, the operational commander should determine the ‘fixed base and the zone of operations.’ Then he decides ‘the objective point, whether offensive or defensive.’ From this flows the placement of the forces for offense and defense, and the routes (or lines) directed at the objective point. He also talked of optional lines of advance, supporting and alternative bases of operations, logistical requirements, fortresses and entrenched camps (here he is drifting into the tactical), and any efforts at diversions. Jomini, with his exposition of strategy and his histories of the Seven Years’ War and the Napoleonic era, therefore taught military commanders to think in terms that today we would define as operational.” [p. 8]
What Professor Stoker calls the “core parts” of his analysis include “How the respective leaders planned their campaigns and what objectives they sought with them.” [p. 9] “Too often,” he says, “those concocting the plans did not take into consideration the realities of terrain, logistics, capabilities, and, perhaps most important, time.” [p. 9] “Tactics,” he says, “govern the execution of battles fought in the course of operations. In much military literature the words tactics and strategy are used interchangeably and indiscriminately, even though they differ starkly. … Political policy–the larger reasons a nation goes to war–gives shape to grand strategy, the merging of political, economic, and military thinking, which supports and influences the nature of strategy, the use of military forces, which is in turn implemented by operations, which is characterized at the point of the spear by tactics.” [p. 9]
Using Robert E. Lee’s plan in 1863 as an example, Professor Stoker writes, “His strategy was to attack the North’s will to fight by decisively defeating the Union on its own territory; his operational goals included throwing the Union Army back over the Potomac; his initial tactical plan was to defeat the opposing Union army in detail, ‘in detail’ referring to the tactic of bringing a large force to bear on a part of the enemy’s, destroying it, and then repeating this against the remaining elements of their army.” [p. 9]
This book is essential to understanding how the United States forces defeated the confederacy and, significantly, why it took four years to do so despite manpower and material advantages. “The main reason behind the Union’s victory in the Civil War is that its leaders eventually developed a military strategy capable of delivering the political end they desired.” [p. 11] Until they did, the war went on.
The book is well researched and provided much satisfaction to this reader regarding strategic analysis and criticisms. If you’re a serious student of the Civil War, this book needs to be on your shelf. I can highly recommend it.