英文
24
When the war began, in 1861, a shabby and disappointed man was sitting on a packing-case in a leather store in Galena, Illinois, smoking a clay pipe. His job, so far as he had one, was that of bookkeeper and buyer of hogs and hides from farmers.
His two younger brothers who owned the store didn't want him around at any price, but for months he had tramped the streets of St. Louis, looking in vain for some kind of position, until his wife and four children were destitute. Finally, in despair, he had borrowed a few dollars for a railway ticket and gone to see his father in Kentucky, begging for assistance. The old man had considerable cash, but, being loath to part with any of it, he sat down and wrote his two younger sons in Galena, instructing them to give their elder brother a job.
So they put him on the pay-roll at once, more as a matter of family politics and family charity than anything else.
Two dollars a day—that was his wage—and it was probably more than he was worth, for he had no more business ability than a jack-rabbit; he was lazy and slovenly, he loved cornwhisky, and he was eternally in debt. He was always borrowing small sums of money; so when his friends saw him coming, they used to look the other way and cross the street to avoid meeting him.
Everything he had undertaken in life, so far, had ended in failure and frustration.
So far.
But no more.
For good news and astounding good fortune were just around the corner.
In a little while he was to go flaring and flaming like a shooting star across the firmament of fame.
He couldn't command the respect of his home town now; but in three years he would command the most formidable army the world had ever seen.
In four years he would conquer Lee, end the war, and write his name in blazing letters of fire on the pages of history.
In eight years he would be in the White House.
After that he would make a triumphal tour of the world, with the high and mighty of all lands heaping honors, medals, flowers, and after-dinner oratory upon him—whom people back in Galena had crossed the street to avoid.
It is an astonishing tale.
Everything about it is strange. Even the attitude of his mother was abnormal. She never seemed to care much for him. She refused to visit him when he was President, and she didn't trouble even to name him when he was born. Her relatives attended to that, in a sort of lottery. When he was six weeks old, they wrote their favorite names on strips torn from a paper sack, mixed them in a hat, and drew one out. His grandmother Simpson had been reading Homer, and she wrote on her slip: “Hiram Ulysses.” It was drawn, and so, by chance, that was the name he bore at home for seventeen years.
But he was bashful and slow-witted, so the village wits called him “Useless” Grant.
At West Point he had still another name. The politician who made out the papers giving him an appointment to the Military Academy imagined that his middle name must be Simpson, his mother's maiden name, so he went as “U. S. Grant.” When the cadets learned this, they laughed and tossed their hats in the air, and shouted, “Boys, we've got Uncle Sam with us!” To the end of his life those who had been his classmates there called him Sam Grant.
He didn't mind. He made few friends, and he didn't care what people called him, and he didn't care how he looked. He wouldn't keep his coat buttoned or his gun clean or his shoes shined, and he was often late for roll-call. And, instead of mastering the military principles used by Napoleon and Frederick the Great, he spent much of his time at West Point poring over novels such as “Ivanhoe” and “The Last of the Mohicans.”
The incredible fact is that he never read a book on military strategy in his life.
After he had won the war the people of Boston raised money to buy him a library, appointing a committee to find out what books he already possessed. To its amazement, the committee learned that Grant didn't own a single military treatise of any description.
He disliked West Point and the army and everything connected with it; and, after he had become world-famous, he said to Bismarck while reviewing Germany's troops:
“I haven't much interest in military affairs. The truth is, I am more of a farmer than a soldier. Although I have been in two wars, I never entered the army without regret, and never left it without pleasure.”
Grant admitted that his besetting sin was laziness, and that he never liked to study. Even after he graduated from West Point he spelled knocked without the initial k and safety without an e; yet he was fairly good at figures, and hoped to be a professor of mathematics. But no position was available, so he spent eleven years with the regular army. He had to have something to eat, and that seemed the easiest way to get it.
In 1853 he was stationed at Fort Humboldt in California. In a near-by village there was a curious character named Ryan. Ryan ran a store, operated a sawmill, and did surveying during the week. On Sunday he preached. Whisky was cheap in those days, and Pastor Ryan kept an open barrel of it in the back of his store. A tin cup was hanging on the barrel, so you could go and help yourself whenever you had the urge. Grant had it often. He was lonely and wanted to forget the army life that he despised; as a result he got drunk so many times that he had virtually to be dismissed from the army.
He didn't have a dollar, and he didn't have a job; so he drifted back east to Missouri and spent the next four years plowing corn and slopping hogs on an eighty-acre farm belonging to his father-in-law. In the wintertime he cut cord-wood, hauled it to St. Louis, and sold it to the city people. But every year he got farther and farther behind, had to borrow more and more.
Finally he quit the farm, moved to St. Louis, and sought employment there. He tried to sell real estate, was a total failure at that, and then drifted about the town for weeks, looking for a job—any kind of job. At last he was in such desperate circumstances that he tried to hire out his wife's negroes, in order to get money to pay the grocer's bill.
Here is one of the most surprising facts about the Civil War: Lee believed that slavery was wrong, and had freed his own negroes long before the conflict came; but Grant's wife owned slaves at the very time that her husband was leading the armies of the North to destroy slavery.
When the war began, Grant was sick of his work in the Galena leather store and wanted to get back into the army.
That ought to have been easy for a West Point graduate, when the army had hundreds of thousands of raw recruits to whip into shape. But it wasn't. Galena raised a company of volunteers, and Grant drilled them because he was the only man in town who knew anything at all about drilling, but when they marched away to war with bouquets in their gun-barrels Grant stood on the sidewalk watching them. They had chosen another man as captain.
Then Grant wrote to the War Department, telling of his experience and asking to be appointed colonel of a regiment. His letter was never answered. It was found in the files of the War Department while he was President.
Finally he got a position in the adjutant's office in Springfield, doing clerical work that a fifteen-year-old girl could have done. He worked all day with his hat on, smoking constantly and copying orders on an old broken-down table with three legs, which had been shoved into a corner for support.
Then a wholly unexpected thing happened, an event that set his feet on the road to fame. The 21st Regiment of Illinois Volunteers had degenerated into an armed mob. They ignored orders, cursed their officers, and chased old Colonel Goode out of camp, vowing that if he showed up again they would nail his hide on a sour-apple tree.
Governor Yates was worried.
He didn't think much of Grant, but after all the man had been graduated from West Point, so the governor took a chance. And on a sunny June day in 1861 Grant walked out to the Springfield fair-grounds to take over the command of a regiment that no one else could rule.
A stick that he carried, and a red bandana tied around his waist—these were his only visible signs of authority.
He didn't have a horse or a uniform, or the money to buy either. There were holes in the top of his sweat-stained hat, and his elbows stuck out of his old coat.
His men began making fun of him at once. One chap started sparring at him behind his back, and another fellow rushed up behind the pugilist and shoved him so hard that he stumbled forward and hit Grant between the shoulders.
Grant stopped all their foolishness immediately. If a man disobeyed orders he was tied to a post and left there all day. If he cursed a gag was put into his mouth. If the regiment was late at roll-call—as they all were on one occasion—they got nothing to eat for twenty-four hours. The ex-hide-buyer from Galena tamed their tempestuous spirits and led them away to do battle down in Missouri.
Shortly after that another piece of amazing good fortune came his way. In those days the War Department was making brigadier-generals by the dozens. Northwestern Illinois had sent Elihu B. Washburne to Congress. Washburne, fired with political ambitions, was desperately eager to show the folks back home that he was on the job, so he went to the War Department and demanded that one brigadier-general come from his district. All right. But who? That was easy: there was only one West Point graduate among Washburne's constituents.
So a few days later Grant picked up a St. Louis newspaper, and read the surprising news that he was a brigadier-general.
He was assigned headquarters at Cairo, Illinois, and immediately began to do things. He loaded his soldiers on boats, steamed up the Ohio, occupied Paducah, a strategic point in Kentucky, and proposed marching down into Tennessee to attack Fort Donelson, which commanded the Cumberland River. Military experts like Halleck said: “Nonsense! You are talking foolishly, Grant. It can't be done. It would be suicide to attempt it.”
Grant went ahead and tried it, and captured the fort and fifteen thousand prisoners in one afternoon.
While Grant was attacking, the Confederate general sent him a note, begging for a truce, to arrange terms of capitulation, but Grant replied rather tartly:
“My only terms are unconditional and immediate surrender. I propose to move immediately upon your works.”
Simon Buckner, the Confederate general to whom this curt message was addressed, had known Sam Grant at West Point and had lent him money to pay his board bill when he was fired from the army. In view of that loan, Buckner felt that Grant ought to have been a trifle more gracious in his phraseology. But Buckner forgave him and surrendered and spent the afternoon smoking and reminiscing with Grant about old times.
The fall of Fort Donelson had far-reaching consequences: it saved Kentucky for the North, enabled the Union troops to advance two hundred miles without opposition, drove the Confederates out of a large part of Tennessee, cut off their supplies, caused the fall of Nashville and of Fort Columbus, the Gibraltar of the Mississippi, spread profound depression throughout the South, and set church bells ringing and bonfires blazing from Maine to the Mississippi.
It was a stupendous victory, and created a tremendous impression even in Europe. It was really one of the turning-points of the war.
From that time on, U. S. Grant was known as “Unconditional Surrender” Grant, and “I propose to move on your works immediately” became the battle-cry of the North.
Here, at last, was the great leader for which the country had been waiting. Congress made him a major-general; he was appointed commander of the Military Department of Western Tennessee, and quickly became the idol of the nation. One newspaper mentioned that he liked to smoke during a battle, and, presto! over ten thousand boxes of cigars were showered upon him.
But in less than three weeks after all this Grant was actually in tears of rage and mortification because of unfair treatment by a jealous superior officer.
His immediate superior in the West was Halleck, a colossal and unmitigated ass. Admiral Foote called Halleck “a military imbecile,” and Gideon Welles, Lincoln's Secretary of the Navy, who knew Halleck intimately, sums him up thus:
“Halleck originates nothing, anticipates nothing, suggests nothing, plans nothing, decides nothing, is good for nothing and does nothing except scold, smoke and scratch his elbows.”
But Halleck thought very well of himself. He had been an assistant professor at West Point, had written books on military strategy, international law, and mining, had been director of a silver-mine, president of a railway, a successful attorney, had mastered French and translated a tome on Napoleon. In his own opinion, he was the distinguished scholar, Henry Wager Halleck.
And who was Grant? A nobody, a drunken and discredited army captain. When Grant came to see him, before attacking Fort Donelson, Halleck was rude, and dismissed his military suggestions with irritation and contempt. Now Grant had won a great victory and had the nation at his feet, while Halleck was still scratching his elbows in St. Louis, unnoticed and ignored. And it galled Halleck.
To make matters worse, he felt that this erstwhile hide-buyer was insulting him. He telegraphed Grant day after day, and Grant brazenly ignored his orders. At least, so Halleck imagined. But he was wrong. Grant had sent report upon report; but, after the fall of Donelson, a break in telegraphic communications had made it impossible for his telegrams to get through. However, Halleck didn't know this, and he was indignant. Victory and public adulation had gone to Grant's head, had they? Well, he would teach this young upstart a lesson. So he wired McClellan repeatedly, denouncing Grant. Grant was this, Grant was that—insolent, drunk, idle, ignoring orders, incompetent. “I'm tired and worn out with this neglect and inefficiency.”
McClellan, too, was envious of Grant's popularity; so he sent Halleck what, in the light of history, is the most amazing telegram of the Civil War: “Do not hesitate to arrest him [Grant] at once if the good of the service requires it, and place C. F. Smith in command.”
Halleck immediately took Grant's army away from him, virtually placed him under arrest, and then leaned back in his chair and scratched his elbows with savage satisfaction.
The war was almost a year old now, and the only general who had won a considerable victory for the North stood stripped of all power and in public disgrace.
Later Grant was restored to command. Then he blundered woefully at the Battle of Shiloh; if Johnston, the Confederate general, had not bled to death during the fighting, Grant's entire army might have been surrounded and captured. Shiloh was, at that time, the greatest battle that had ever been fought on this continent, and Grant's losses were staggering—thirteen thousand men. He had acted stupidly; he had been taken by surprise. He deserved criticism, and it came roaring down upon him. He was falsely accused of being intoxicated at Shiloh, and millions believed it. A tidal wave of popular indignation swept over the country, and the public clamored for his removal. But Lincoln said:
“I can't spare this man. He fights.”
When people told him Grant drank too much whisky, he inquired: “What brand? I want to send a few barrels to some of my other generals.”
The following January Grant assumed command of the expedition against Vicksburg. The campaign against this natural fortress, perched on a high bluff two hundred feet above the Mississippi, was long and heartbreaking. The place was heavily fortified, and the gunboats on the river couldn't elevate their cannon high enough to touch it. Grant's problem was to get his army close enough to attack it.
He went back to the heart of Mississippi and tried to march on it from the east. That failed.
Then he cut away the levees of the river, put his army on boats, and tried to float through the swamps and get at the place from the north. That failed.
Then he dug a canal and tried to change the course of the Mississippi. That failed.
It was a trying winter. Rain fell almost continuously, the river flooded the whole valley, and Grant's troops floundered through miles of swamps, ooze, bayous, tangled forests, and trailing vines. Men stood up to their waists in mud, they ate in the mud, they slept in the mud. Malarial fever broke out, and measles and smallpox. Sanitation was well-nigh impossible, and the death-rate was appalling.
The Vicksburg campaign was a failure—that was the cry that went up everywhere. A stupid failure, a tragic failure, a criminal failure.
Grant's own generals—Sherman, McPherson, Logan, Wilson —regarded his plans as absurd, and believed they would end in black ruin. The press throughout the country was vitriolic, and the nation was demanding Grant's removal.
“He has hardly a friend left except myself,” Lincoln said.
Despite all opposition, Lincoln clung to Grant; and he had his faith richly rewarded, for, on July 4, the same day that the timid Meade let Lee escape at Gettysburg, Grant rode into Vicksburg on a horse taken from the plantation of Jefferson Davis, and won a greater victory than any American general had achieved since the days of Washington.
After eight months of desolating failure, Grant had captured forty thousand prisoners at Vicksburg, placed the entire Mississippi River in the hands of the North, and split the Confederacy.
The news set the nation aflame with enthusiasm.
Congress passed a special act in order that Grant could be made lieutenant-general—an honor that no man had worn since the death of Washington—and Lincoln, calling him to the White House, made a short address appointing him commander of all the armies of the Union.
Forewarned that he would have to reply with a speech of acceptance, Grant drew out of his pocket a little wrinkled piece of paper containing only three sentences. As he began to read, the paper shook, his face flushed, his knees trembled, and his voice failed. Breaking down completely, he clutched the shaking paper with both hands, shifted his position, took a deep breath, and began all over again.
The hog-and-hide buyer from Galena found it easier to face bullets than to deliver a speech of eighty-four words before an audience of eleven men.
Mrs. Lincoln, eager to make a social event out of Grant's presence in Washington, had already arranged a dinner and a party in the general's honor. But Grant begged to be excused, saying he must hasten back to the front.
“But we can't excuse you,” the President insisted. “Mrs. Lincoln's dinner without you would be ‘Hamlet’ without Hamlet.”
“A dinner to me,” replied Grant, “means a million dollars a day loss to the country. Besides, I've had about enough of this show business, anyway.”
Lincoln loved a man who would talk like that—one who, like himself, despised “fizzlegigs and fireworks,” and one who would “take responsibility and act.”
Lincoln's hopes rose and towered now. He was sure that, with Grant in command, all would soon be well.
But he was wrong. Within four months the country was plunged into blacker gloom and deeper despair than ever, and once more Lincoln was pacing the floor throughout the night, haggard and worn and desperate.
中文
24
一八六一年战争的枪声刚打响的时候，在伊利诺伊州的格丽纳小镇上的一家皮革店中，一位衣衫褴褛、面容沮丧的青年正抽着土烟坐在一只包装箱上。他的工作，就目前看来，便是记账和从农民手里收购猪皮和兽皮。
他的两个弟弟是这家店的店主，可是弟弟们不惜一切代价地想把他赶走。几个月前，他一直在圣路易斯大街上游荡，想找份工作，但都没有成功。他的妻子和四个孩子穷困潦倒，于是绝望之下，他借了几美金买了一张火车票，去肯塔基州看望自己的父亲，恳求父亲援助。他的父亲有相当多的现金，但却是只一毛不拔的铁公鸡。于是他的父亲坐下来给格丽纳的两个小儿子写信，要求他们给他们的大哥提供一份工作。
弟弟们立刻将他的名字放在了工资单上。他们这么做，更多是因为父亲的命令，或者说是出于一种施舍，而不是因为兄弟之情。
两美金一天——这是他的工资——或许比他的自身价值高出不少，因为他的经商才能比一只长耳大野兔好不了多少。他十分懒散，喜欢玉米威士忌，而且还不断地欠债。他总是借些小钱，因此他的朋友们在街上遇到他时，都会扭头看向旁边，然后走到街对面去，以防和他碰面。
到目前为止，他生活中的每一件事，都是以失败和挫折结尾的。
到目前为止是这样。
但也只是到目前为止。
因为飞黄腾达的机会就在拐角处等着他。
过不了多久，他就会像一颗燃烧着熊熊火光的流星一样照亮名利的苍穹。
虽然他现在无法命令家乡的父老乡亲尊重自己，但是三年后，世界上最强大的军队将会按照他的命令行事。
四年后，他将战胜李，结束南北战争，并用极其辉煌的方式将自己的名字载入史册。
八年后，他将入主白宫。
再后来，他以胜利者的姿态环游全球，受到了所到之处权贵政要的热烈追捧。他们为他献上奖章和鲜花，还为他举行餐后演讲。谁能想到，当年那个在格丽纳街头人们避而不见的年轻人，能有如此辉煌的一天？
这是一个传奇故事。
而这个故事中的一切都是那么令人匪夷所思。即便是他母亲，对他的态度也十分不同寻常。她似乎从来都不在乎他。他做了总统后，她也不愿去看他。他出生的时候，她甚至懒得为他取名。而她的亲戚给他取名的方式就像抽奖一样随意。他六周大的时候，亲戚们将一个纸袋撕成纸条，在纸条上写上自己最喜欢的名字，然后将所有纸条放在一只帽子里，抽到哪张就用哪张上面的名字。他的外婆辛普森（Simpson）当时正在读荷马的书，于是在纸条上写下了“海勒姆·尤利西斯”。机缘巧合之下，这张纸条被抽中了，于是他往后十七年在家的名字便叫作“海勒姆·尤利西斯·格兰特”。
他是一个羞怯又有些迟钝的孩子，于是镇上的聪明人都叫他“废物西斯·格兰特”。
在西点军校的时候他还有一个名字。那个填写格兰特入学信息的政治家以为他的中间名是他母亲的娘家姓氏辛普森，于是便将他的名字缩写成了“U．S.格兰特”。学员们知道这件事后，大笑着将帽子抛向空中，大声喊道：“孩子们，山姆大叔(5)和我们在一起哦！”因此在往后的时光中，他的这些同学都称他为山姆·格兰特。
他一点儿也不介意。他朋友很少，所以并不在意人们怎么称呼他，也不在意自己的外表和穿着。他的扣子总是不扣好，枪也不擦干净，靴子也不擦得锃亮，列队点名的时候总是迟到。而且，他在西点军校时根本不学拿破仑和腓特烈大帝使用过的军事战略，而是将大量的时间花在读小说上，例如《劫后英雄传》和《最后的莫西干人》。
事实上，他从来没有读过一本关于军事战略的书。
他赢得了战争后，波士顿的人们筹钱为他修建了一座图书馆，并委派了一个委员会去看看他有哪些藏书。令人惊讶的是，委员会发现格兰特竟连一本军事专著也没有。
他不喜欢西点军校，不喜欢军队以及一切和军队有关的人和事。在功成名就之后，有一次他在检阅德国军队时对俾斯麦说：
“我对军事并不感兴趣。事实上，我更像农民而不是军人。我虽然参加了两场战争，但每次参战的时候心里都很后悔，而每次离开战场时心里都带着快意。”
格兰特承认自己最大的毛病就是懒散，一点儿也不愿学习。即便从西点军校毕业后，他仍写出没有词首字母K的knocked（被敲击）和缺少e的safety（安全）。但他对数字很敏感，也一直想做一名数学教授，但当时没有合适的职位，于是他退而求其次地在军营中度过了十一年，因为他总要养活自己，而参军似乎是最简单的方式。
一八五三年他驻扎在加利福尼亚州的洪堡。洪堡旁边有一个小村庄，村里有一个奇怪的家伙，名叫瑞恩。瑞恩经营着一间店铺和一家锯木厂，平时也常做些勘测工作，周日的时候还要布道。在那个年代，威士忌是很便宜的，瑞恩牧师总是在他店铺后面放上一桶开着盖子的威士忌，并在酒桶上挂一只锡酒杯。不管是谁，若是犯了酒瘾，就可以去喝一杯。格兰特经常去那儿喝酒。他很孤独，同时也希望借着酒劲儿忘却他鄙视的军旅生活，于是他常常喝得酩酊大醉，最后被军队开除了。
他身上一美金都没有，也没有工作，于是只能去密苏里州东部投奔岳父，并在接下来的四年中一直在岳父那片八十英亩的农场上种地养猪。冬天的时候，他将砍好的薪柴拉去圣路易斯，卖给那里的城里人。即便这样，他的生活也是一年不如一年，只能靠借债度日。
最后，他离开了农场，搬到了圣路易斯，并在那里找了份工作。他试着卖房子，结果却失败得一塌糊涂。然后他在镇里游荡了数周，试图找一份工作——任何工作都行。最后他实在穷困至极，只能将妻子的黑奴租出去换钱，偿付杂货店的账单。
关于南北战争，有一件事是很不可思议的：李一直都认为奴隶制是不对的，并在离开战时间还很远的时候便释放了自己的黑奴。而格兰特的妻子是拥有黑奴的。当她的丈夫率领着北方军摧毁奴隶制的时候，她自己却一直都有黑奴。
南北战争开始的时候，格兰特厌倦了在格丽纳的皮货店里打工的生活，想重新回到军队。
对于一名西点军校毕业生来说，这应该是很简单的一件事，尤其是在军队招募了成百上千名等着接受严格训练的新兵时。但事实并非如此。格丽纳组织了一支志愿军，并让格兰特训练他们，因为格兰特是唯一一个懂得什么是训练的人。可是当这支队伍在枪筒里插上鲜花奔赴战场时，格兰特只能站在路边看着他们走过。队长的位子给了其他人。
格兰特写信给战争部，介绍了自己的经历，并要求担任团级上校。然而这封信却如石沉大海般杳无回音。后来格兰特做了总统，人们才在战争部的文件堆里看到这封信。
最后他在春田市的副官办公室找到了一份差事，做着十五岁的小姑娘也会做的杂事。他工作的时候也戴着帽子，一支接着一支地抽烟，时不时地站在倚在墙角只有三条腿的破桌子前抄写军令。
就在这个时候，发生了一件完全出人意料的事。正是这件事，使格兰特走上了成名之路。伊利诺伊州第二十一团志愿兵发生了暴乱，堕落成了一群拿着枪的流氓。他们无视军令，咒骂上司，将古德老上校赶出军营，并发誓若他胆敢再次出现，就将他的皮剥下来挂在青苹果树上。
州长叶茨为此十分焦虑。
他其实并不是十分看好格兰特，但毕竟格兰特是西点军校毕业的，于是州长便冒险一试。于是，一八六一年六月一个晴朗的上午，格兰特走出了办公室，来到春田市的露天广场，接手了这支无人管得住的军队。
他手里拿着手杖，腰间系着一条红色的头巾——他身上只有这两样东西能表明他的身份。
他没有骑马，没穿制服，也没有能够买马买制服的钱。他那顶满是汗渍的帽子上破了几个洞，外套的手肘处也磨出了洞。
一看到他的模样，士兵们便嘲笑起他来。一个小伙子对着他的后背挥舞着拳头，另一个士兵则跑到这个拳击手身后，用力推了那人一把。拳击手的身体踉跄地向前倒去，撞到了格兰特的肩膀。
格兰特很快便制止了士兵们的愚蠢行为。若有人违抗军令，便会被绑在柱子上一整天。若有人满嘴污秽，便会立刻被堵住嘴。若士兵们列队时迟到——有一次所有人都迟到了——那就二十四小时不给饭吃。就这样，这位来自格丽纳一家皮货店的店员驯服了那些充满暴力的手下，并带领他们在密苏里州冲锋陷阵。
不久之后，又发生了一件助他平步青云的大好事。在那个时候，战争部正准备提拔一批准将。伊利诺伊州西北军区将伊莱休·本杰明·沃什伯恩（Elihu B．Washburne）派去了国会。沃什伯恩是一个充满了政治野心的人，他迫切地想让家乡的人民知道自己身居要职，于是去了战争部，要求他的州必须出一名准将。战争部同意了他的要求，但是提拔谁呢？很简单，沃什伯恩手里只有一位西点军校毕业生。
于是几天后，格兰特无意中看了一份圣路易斯的报纸，这才知道自己竟然晋升成了准将。
他被派往伊利诺伊州的凯罗总部，一上任便施展开了拳脚。他让士兵们坐上轮船，经过俄亥俄州，占领了肯塔基州的战略要地帕迪尤卡，接着便打算深入田纳西州攻打控制着坎伯兰河的多纳尔森堡。对此，像哈勒克一样的军事专家是这样说的：“一派胡言！格兰特，你这是痴人说梦。这根本是做不到的。你的尝试就等于是自杀。”
格兰特一意孤行地展开了进攻，而且只用了短短一个下午便拿下了多纳尔森堡，还擒获了一万五千名俘虏。
格兰特展开进攻的时候，南方军的将军给他传了信息，恳求休战，以便拟定投降协议。但是格兰特的答复十分强硬：
“我唯一的条件是你们立刻无条件投降。我打算立刻向你们的防御工事进军。”
收到格兰特回复的南方军将领是西蒙·巴克纳（Simon Buckner），他在西点军校的时候就认识了“山姆·格兰特”，并在格兰特被军队开除时借钱给格兰特支付伙食账单。巴克纳认为，看在那笔借款的份上，格兰特言辞也应该温和些。不过巴克纳还是原谅了格兰特，投降后花了一个下午与格兰特一起一边抽着烟一边追忆往昔的时光。
多纳尔森堡之役的胜利具有深远的意义，它为北方保住了肯塔基州，从而联邦军可以不受任何阻碍地向前推进两百英里，将驻扎在田纳西州的大部分南方军赶出去，切断南方军的供给线，从而拿下田纳西首府纳什维尔和有着“密西西比河上的直布罗陀”之称的哥伦布堡。南方的上空因此笼罩着挥之不去的绝望，教堂的钟声与战火的轰鸣声从缅因州一直响彻密西西比河流域。
这是一场巨大的胜利，甚至给欧洲人也留下了极为深刻的印象。这次胜利无疑是南北战争的转折点。
从那时起，人们称格兰特为“只接受无条件投降的格兰特”，而他的那句“我打算立刻向你们的防御工事进军”也成了北方军的战斗口号。
终于，举国上下期待了许久的将领出现在了人们面前。国会将他晋升为少将，并任命他为田纳西州西部军区指挥官。格兰特很快便成了全民偶像。有一家报纸说格兰特喜欢在战场上抽烟，于是转眼间格兰特就收到了来自全国各地的一万多盒香烟。
但是格兰特风光了还不到三个星期，便因为某位嫉妒他的上司对他不公平的对待而流下了愤怒又屈辱的泪水。
他在西部的直接上司是哈勒克。哈勒克是一个十足的浑蛋。富特上将称哈勒克为“军中的白痴”。而林肯的海军部长吉迪恩·韦尔斯（Gideon Welles）熟识哈勒克，他这样评价哈勒克：
“哈勒克没有作为，没有预判，没有建议，没有计划，没有决断。他的特长就是什么都不会。他唯一会的就是骂人、抽烟和挠胳膊肘。”
但是哈勒克自我感觉良好。他曾是西点军校的助理教授，也写过关于军事战略、国际法和采矿的书。他做过银矿主管、铁路主席，还曾是一位出色的律师。他精通法语，还翻译过一本写拿破仑的大部头书。在他自己看来，他是杰出的学者亨利·韦杰·哈勒克。
而格兰特又是什么人？一个不知从哪里冒出来的、整日喝得醉醺醺的、毫无荣誉可言的小队长。格兰特在攻打多纳尔森堡之前曾去见过哈勒克，当时哈勒克十分粗鲁，愤怒而又轻蔑地拒绝了格兰特的军事建议。现在格兰特打了大胜仗，整个国家都拜倒在他脚下，而哈勒克却仍旧默默无闻地在圣路易斯挠着胳膊肘。哈勒克因此感到十分屈辱。
更糟的是，哈勒克认为那位曾经的皮货商一直在侮辱自己。他日复一日地给格兰特发电报，但是格兰特厚颜无耻地无视了他的命令。至少，哈勒克是这样认为的。但他却想错了。格兰特给他发了一封又一封的报告，但是多纳尔森堡之役过后，电报通讯中断了，格兰特的电报一封也没发出去。然而哈勒克并不知道这件事，于是他非常恼火。胜利和公众的赞誉都落到了格兰特的头上，不能就这么完了，他一定会给这个自命不凡的年轻人好好上一课。于是他不停地给麦克莱伦发电报诋毁格兰特。他说格兰特这样，格兰特那样，但总离不开这几个词——傲慢，醉鬼，懒散，无视命令，能力不足。“我被这个目中无人又能力不足的蠢货搞得筋疲力尽。”哈勒克这样说道。
麦克莱伦也十分嫉妒格兰特，于是他给哈勒克回了一封信。从历史的角度看，这是南北战争中最为惊人的一封信：“如果整体利益需要，可以毫不犹豫地逮捕他，让C．F.史密斯接替他的位置。”
哈勒克立刻拘禁了格兰特，并夺走了格兰特手里的军权。做完了这些后，哈勒克便靠在椅子里，心满意足地继续挠着胳膊肘。
战争已经打了一年了，而唯一一位为北方赢得了辉煌胜利的将军却被当众侮辱，并被剥夺了军权。
后来格兰特重新获得了指挥权。接着他在夏伊洛战场不幸地犯下了大错。当时，如果南方军的将领约翰斯顿没有在战斗中流血至死，格兰特就会被包围，全军都会成为俘虏。夏伊洛之战是当时这片大陆上最为激烈的一场战役，格兰特也损失惨重，足足牺牲了一万三千人。他指挥十分愚蠢，从而受到了出其不意的攻击。他理应受到指责。一时间，指责与谩骂呼啸着向他涌来。有人误会他在夏伊洛战场上还喝着酒，数百万民众对此信以为真。公众的愤怒如潮水般席卷全国，人们叫嚷着要罢免他。但是林肯却说：
“我不能放弃这个人。他能打。”
当人们告诉林肯，格兰特酷爱威士忌时，林肯问道：“什么牌子的？我想给其他将军也寄几桶过去。”
一八六三年一月，格兰特下令远征维克斯堡。维克斯堡位于密西西比河上方两百英尺高的悬崖上，是一个天然要塞，因此这场战役耗时长久，而且十分惊心动魄。维克斯堡的防御工事十分强大，而河上的炮艇也无法将加农炮抬高至能打到要塞的高度。格兰特要解决的问题便是拉近与敌军的距离，找到最佳进攻点。
他折回到密西西比的中心地带，试图从东面挺进，但是失败了。
接着他切断了河上的防洪堤，让军队坐船穿过沼泽，从北面挺进，也失败了。
然后他挖开了河道，试图改变密西西比河的流向，又失败了。
这是一个恼人的冬天。雨不停地下着，河水很快便漫进了山谷，格兰特的部队不得不在数英里的沼泽、软泥和丛林里挣扎。士兵们在齐腰的淤泥里吃饭睡觉。疟疾、麻疹和天花爆发了，战场上根本没有卫生设施，于是死亡率高得吓人。
维克斯堡行动是失败的——这是所有人的心声——而且是一次愚蠢的、悲剧的、罪恶的行动。
连格兰特自己的将领——谢尔曼、麦克弗森、洛根、威尔逊——都认为格兰特的计划无比荒谬，全体将士会因此死无葬身之地。全国的媒体都是一片谩骂之词，并要求罢免格兰特。
“除了我，他几乎就没朋友了。”林肯说。
林肯不顾各方的反对，坚决地支持格兰特。他的这份信念获得了丰厚的回报。七月四日——也是怯懦的米德在葛底斯堡放走李的那一天——格兰特骑着马从杰佛逊·戴维斯的种植园闯进了维克斯堡，赢得了一场巨大的胜利。这场胜利比自华盛顿时代以来，美国将领所取得的任何胜利都伟大。
经历了八个月凄凉的失败后，格兰特在维克斯堡擒获了四万俘虏，将整个密西西比河流域都纳入了北方军的掌控之中，从而成功地分裂了南方联盟。
这个激动人心的消息让全国上下都燃烧了起来。
国会特意通过了一项法令，晋升格兰特为中将——华盛顿去世后，还没有人获得过这个殊荣——接着林肯将他请到了白宫，发表了一段简短的致辞，并任命他为联邦军总司令。
格兰特事先得到通知，知道自己在任命后要说几句答谢词。他从口袋里拿出一张皱巴巴的纸条，上面只写了三句话。可当他开始读稿时，只见他手中的稿纸不停地颤抖，他的脸憋得通红，双膝打战，声音卡在了喉咙口。他完全崩溃了，只能双手紧紧抓着稿纸，换了一个位置，深吸了一口气，然后重新开始。
在这位来自格丽纳的皮货商看来，在枪林弹雨中冲锋陷阵也比在十一个人面前说一段八十四个字的演讲来得轻松。
林肯夫人非常希望能为来到华盛顿的格兰特办一场社交盛会，于是早早地为格兰特预订了一顿晚宴和一场派对。可是格兰特却推辞说自己必须尽快赶往前线。
“你可不能不来，”总统说，“林肯夫人的晚宴少了你就像《哈姆雷特》里没有哈姆雷特一样。”
“对于我来说，”格兰特回答道，“一顿晚宴意味着国家一天损失了一百万美元。而且，我也受够这些应酬了。”
林肯很欣赏格兰特的说话方式，因为他和自己一样，讨厌“喧闹和排场”，并且能够“承担责任并作出行动”。
林肯的心中又燃起了希望。他知道，只要有格兰特在，一切都会好起来的。
但是他错了。四个月后，整个国家再次陷入了绝境，比之前更黯淡的绝境。林肯又开始彻夜在房中踱步。他形容憔悴，身心俱疲，十分绝望。
