Flying Under the Radar (Part Two)

(Note: This is the second segment in a three part series. The first segment discussed the first of two distinctly different approaches to enlightened affairs on the path to human progress. Sometimes, for a variety of reasons, it is most prudent to fly under the radar.  Robert E. Lee, if not the greatest military general in US History, then certainly one of the most admired and revered heroes of Southern lore, is a primary example.)

U.S. Grant presents another interesting, yet entirely different, flying under the radar story.  The eventual head of all Union armies during the Civil War, Grant’s name is linked for eternity in military terms with his adversary, Lee.  For one thing, he looked more like a common foot soldier, rather than the man who at the Civil War’s end had grown to become the most trusted Northern man in the Southern Confederacy.  But, Grant did not receive the title until a series of Northern generals had failed miserably before him.

U.S. Grant’s background had also included graduation from West Point, but, unlike Lee, he was no better than an average student in the classroom.  He was an uncomplicated man from humble beginnings in small town Ohio, with a pleasant and straight forward disposition and a plain writing style to match.  His most noteworthy talent during his school days was a legendary proficiency in the handling of horses.  Even the most rambunctious, wild and stubbornly resistant to authority were brought to him and in short order these horses were broken and became obedient.  Grant consistently demonstrated the uncanny ability to become seamless with the four legged equine.  This would serve him well in his ensuing military career.

U.S. Grant’s journey to greatness, however, was neither direct nor without controversy.  After graduation from West Point, he was stationed in the West Coast territory above the new state of California, lonely and separated from his wife and family.  Bored and despairing, he began to drink more than what was good for him, and it began to affect his performance.  Having reached the degree of Captain, his commanding officer had then found him inebriated during a visit to the outpost.  The consummate military man, Grant’s commanding officer gave Grant a choice.  Grant could either resign the military without further inquiry into his conduct or face a damaging military court martial trial, during which all of the dirty laundry would be aired in public.  Grant abruptly chose to resign without giving reason, but the involvement of alcohol was confirmed.  Years later, Grant stated that “the vice of intemperance had not a little to do with my decision to resign.”

Returning home to Illinois, a subsequent attempt at farming failed.  When the Civil War broke out in 1861, Grant was broke and destitute, found peddling firewood on a street corner in St. Louis.  To say that he was flying under the radar at that point would be a gross understatement.  Nevertheless, a premium was placed on men who had officer’s training and experience, which fortunately Grant had, thus enabling him to re-enlist and entertain a command.

In 1863 President Lincoln summoned Gen. Grant to Washington, D.C. to attend the official ceremony, commemorating Grant’s appointment to the rank of Major General.  The ceremony truly was a big deal, since it marked the first such appointment, since Gen. George Washington ascension to the same rank generations before.

Grant traveled to the nation’s capital with typical understatement, in the company of his 13-year-old son.  A welcoming committee to meet the train and escort him to his hotel failed to materialize.  He was inconspicuous and unrecognized, most of his uniform hidden by mud and travel stains.  When the pair entered the hotel, the desk clerk, bored and accustomed to dealing with the capital city’s most distinguished guests, saw no one in particular.  The clerk suggested there might be a small room, if agreeable.  Grant politely accepted and signed the register.

However, when the clerk twirled the book around and saw the name, “U.S. Grant and son, Galena, Illinois,” suddenly everything clicked.  Recognizing the magnitude of his error, the stunned clerk was transformed into a model of hospitality.  The previously offered small room was forgotten, and instead the clerk suggested the best suite in the hotel, where President Lincoln had stayed the week before his inauguration.  Grant accepted the change without comment, not wanting to call attention to himself.  As he saw it, any room would do.  He was flying under the radar.

To be sure,

Not a sign about him suggested rank or reputation or power.  He discussed the most ordinary themes with apparent interest, and turned from them in the same quiet tones, and without a shade of difference in his manner, to decisions that involved the fate of armies, as if great things and small were to him of equal moment.  In battle, the sphinx awoke.  The outward calm was even then not entirely broken; but the utterance was prompt, the ideas were rapid, the judgment was decisive, the words were those of command.  The whole man became intense, as it were, with a white heat.

Grant’s rather ordinary, pedestrian disposition provided the perfect cover from which to fly under the radar.

One of the enduring legacies of U.S. Grant, his rightful place as the face on the $50 bill aside, is the trust and respect, if not the love, which the South had developed for him.  These accolades were earned largely on account of his having given Gen. Lee “honorable terms” of surrender at Appomattox.  They were also largely responsible for his accession to his place as the nation’s 18th president during the turbulent era of Reconstruction following the Civil War.

More than any other single factor, perhaps, the presidential administration of U.S. Grant set a more constructive, flying under the radar tone for Reconstruction, which could have been  much bloodier than it already figured to be.

(The third and concluding segment identifies the contrasting second approach to enlightened affairs on the path to human progress.  Sometimes, flying under the radar just doesn’t fly.  More is necessary.  The shirt sleeves must be rolled up tightly.  A man must stoop down into the mud and get dirty.  There is no better way.  He must enter the arena…)

-Michael D'Angelo