The 442nd Regimental Combat Team: “Go for Broke” - By: COL (Ret) Ed Lowe

Smoke still lingered in the air, covering the naval base at Pearl Harbor like a worn and tattered blanket. Naval personnel worked tirelessly to free the men trapped in the overturned battleship, the U.S.S. Oklahoma. With simultaneous operations against the Philippines and Malaysia, the Japanese attack on December 7, 1941 thrust America into a world war it had hoped to avoid. The very next day, President Franklin Roosevelt described the attack with the famous words of “A date which will live in infamy” and the President asked the assembled Congress for a Declaration of War against Japan. Three days later, Germany and Italy declared war on the United States. Any expectations of an isolationist approach to the growing war lay scattered over the wreckage at Pearl Harbor; it truly was a world war. Unlike another period when America found itself immersed in another war in Southeast Asia, when many Americans sought ways to avoid the draft, following Pearl Harbor Americans by the thousands volunteered, some lying about their age or seeking out sympathetic doctors to gain entry into the Armed Forces. One group of Americans in particular, in the face of overwhelming prejudice, cast aside the deepest of emotional pain and raised their hand to defend the country they loved. These men formed what came to be known as the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team, amassing a combat record throughout World War II that was unsurpassed.[i]

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the incriminating glare of both military and political leaders soon zeroed in on the Japanese population, the Hawaiian Islands, and the mainland United States.. While the military governor of Hawaii, General Delos Emmons, emphasized that the country must “distinguish between loyalty and disloyalty among our people,” United States policy quickly evolved into singling out the Japanese-American population. Just days after the attack, FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover notified authorities in Washington that 1,291 Japanese (367 in Hawaii, 924 on the mainland), 857 Germans, and 147 Italians were in custody, though Hoover conceded that any mass internment of Japanese Americans could not be justified for reasons of security. Even advisors cautioned President Roosevelt against the racial hysteria that was quickly growing, especially toward Japanese Americans. One editorial in a Seattle newspaper declared, “The government should initiate instant and drastic orders sweeping all aliens, foreign and native-born, so far inland that we can forget about them for the duration [of the war].” Military commanders on the mainland rapidly crafted similar sentiments that drove United States policy.[ii]

While charged with leading the Western Defense Command, Lieutenant General John DeWitt brazenly admitted that though many second and third-generation Japanese had been “Americanized, the racial strains are undiluted…it, therefore, follows that along the vital Pacific Coast over 112,000 potential enemies, of Japanese extraction, are at large today.” In January 1942, DeWitt had claimed the eight western states instituted a theater of operations and would be operated as such. Once again dismissing any chance that a Japanese American could demonstrate loyalty to the United States, DeWitt concluded “A Jap is a Jap is a Jap.”  Soon, President Roosevelt embarked on legislation that ripped Japanese Americans from their homes and communities.[iii]

In mid-February 1942, President Roosevelt signed Executive Order No. 9066 that directed the Secretary of War to designate military areas “with respect to which, the right of any person to enter, remain in, or leave shall be subject to whatever restrictions the Secretary of War or the appropriate military commander may impose in his discretion.” Historian Ronald Takaki concluded, “The order did not specify the Japanese as the group to be excluded, but they were the target.” Authorities in Washington set in motion the internment of over 100,000 Japanese Americans. Gaining a wide acceptance of approval from organizations like the American Civil Liberty Union to unanimous concurrence by the United States Supreme Court, as Thomas Sowell highlighted in his work, “Japanese Americans accepted the internment as a grim fact of life and put their efforts into making the best of a bad situation.” Sowell pointed out, however, that not a single Japanese American was ever charged with sabotage during the entire war.[iv]

Under the directive of General DeWitt, less than two months later notices appeared on telephone poles, storefronts, and bulletin boards for the removal of Japanese Americans from their homes, taking basically whatever they could carry on their backs. Selling other possessions or leaving items to the care of sympathetic neighbors, Japanese Americans boarded trains to destinations from California to further east in Arkansas, ten internment camps in total. When some Japanese Americans challenged the removal in court, the United States Supreme Court declared the president’s directive justified as a part of “military necessity.” As Sowell had pointed out, the Japanese Americans just had to make the best of a very bad situation.[v]

It was not long, however, when the question arose if the United States should allow Japanese Americans to serve in the Armed Forces? Given the policy just enacted for the internment of thousands of Japanese Americans, one’s initial reaction might be a resounding: how could they? Secretary of War Henry Stimson opposed the idea, questioning once again the loyalty of Japanese Americans. U.S. Army Chief of Staff, George Marshall, however, disagreed, stating he would accept Japanese Americans as volunteers. Some in Washington concurred with Marshall, perhaps limiting Japanese Americans to serve as translators or interpreters. President Roosevelt, though, did not want to deny any American their right to serve. He stated:

Americanism is not, and never was, a matter of race and ancestry. A good American is loyal to his country and to the creed of liberty and democracy…Every loyal American citizen should be given an opportunity to serve his country wherever his skills will make the greatest contribution.

It was February 1, 1943, almost one year to the date when he signed Executive Order No. 9066 that President Roosevelt authorized the creation of the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team, made up exclusively of Japanese American soldiers, led by Caucasian officers.  “Most of those eligible,” Thomas Sowell underscored, “seized the opportunity to prove their loyalty in combat.” One Japanese American who joined the 100^th Battalion, later to merge under the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team, was told by his parents that ‘you fight for your country.’[vi]

442nd Regimental Combat Team training in Mississippi (Photo: Library of Congress)

Constituted before the 442nd, the 100^th Battalion saw action first, arriving in Italy from North Africa in September 1943. Conducting operations against and around Monte Cassino, in the space of around seven months, the battalion sustained over 900 casualties, 300 killed action, earning the title as the “Purple Heart Battalion.”  In the summer of 1944, the battalion merged with the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team (RCT). Once assembled, the regiment saw action at Luciana, Italy, and the Arno River, where their first test came against a German SS battalion, a crack unit in the German Army. Driving back German resistance, the regiment earned its first Presidential Unit Citation, while suffering casualties up to near-quarter of its strength. Soldiers like Jack Wakamatsu drove fearlessly into the German defenders: “During his company’s movement to better defensive positions, Sergeant Wakamatsu directed by radio the withdrawal of three platoons and several litter cases… He then directed their rearward movement, despite concentrated sniper fire, until they safely reached the company lines.” In the fall of 1944, the army moved the 442^nd RCT to France as part of the allies' drive to defeat Hitler in Europe.[vii]

The 442nd RCT in Europe (Photo: Library of Congress)

One Japanese American who fought in Italy was Kazuo (Kaz) Masuda, who won the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions, though he did not live to receive it. As a staff sergeant, Masuda led his men in fierce fighting against the Germans. When enemy fire cut off communications, Masuda went out 200 yards and provided covering fire with a mortar he had acquired. Obtaining more ammunition, Masuda held his position for over twelve hours. For his actions, the United States awarded him the Distinguished Service Cross. However, Masuda was killed a few weeks later along the banks of the Arno River in Italy. General Joe Stillwell presented the award to Masuda’s family, accompanied by a young officer and future President of the United States, Ronald Reagan. General Stillwell mentioned:

The amount of money, the color of one’s skin, do not make a measure of Americanism. …The real American is a man who calls it a fair exchange to lay down his life in order that American ideals may go on living. Judging from such a test, S/Sgt. Masuda was a better American than any of us here today.

Here was an American whose family occupied housing in an internment camp, yet he was fighting and dying for his country. Those ideals and values that General Stillwell praised still apply today, with each generation having the challenge and opportunity to ensure those ideals may go on living and prospering for future generations.[viii]

Having moved to France in October 1944, in the area of the deep forests surrounding the Vosges Mountains, the 442^nd RCT came to the rescue of the 141^st Infantry Regiment, which had become trapped and surrounded by German forces. Crawling and scrapping for every inch of land, the soldiers of the 442^nd RCT eventually reached their comrades, however, at a frightful cost. The 442^nd sustained over 800 casualties, just under 200 of them killed in action. One soldier of the 141^st Infantry Regiment, the rescued unit, cared little that the 442^nd RCT consisted of Japanese American soldiers. He declared, “Here was a brother of mine coming up to save my life.” Another soldier indicated, “It was really ironical that we were so glad to see Japanese, but, boy, they are real Americans.” And real Americans they were indeed.[ix]

By the war’s end, the 442^nd RCT was remembered as the most decorated unit for its size and length of service in the history of the United States military. The United States awarded over 4,000 Purple Hearts, 4,000 Bronze Stars, 560 Silver Stars, 21 Medals of Honor (many of these upgraded), and seven Presidential Unit Citations across the 18,000 that had served in the regiment throughout the war. In 2010, Congress passed a bill that awarded the Congressional Gold Medal to all members of the 100^th Battalion, 442^nd RCT, and those who served in the Military Intelligence branch during the war. And three years after the war ended, two men of the 442^nd RCT, Fumitake Nagato, and Saburo Tanamachi became the first Japanese American soldiers to be buried at the sacred Arlington National Cemetery.[x]

While much of the reputation the 442^nd RCT earned helped assuage some of the bitter feelings toward Japanese Americans during and after the war, there were still challenges these courageous men had to face. One future U.S. Senator from Hawaii and Congressional Medal of Honor recipient, Daniel Inouye had stopped in San Francisco on his way back to Hawaii. Having lost his right arm in combat fighting for his country, Inouye entered a barbershop for a haircut, only to be told that the establishment did not serve Japs there. Here was a brave soldier, in full uniform, sparkling with his much-deserved military decorations only to be told he could not get a haircut.[xi]

In 1988 President Ronald Reagan signed the Civil Liberties Act, which distributed over $1.6 billion in reparations to Japanese Americans and their descendants. Arguably long overdue, President Reagan stated, “The [442^nd] soldiers’ families were being denied the very freedom for which so many of the soldiers themselves were laying down their lives.” With families whisked away to internment camps, many of these soldiers left them behind to fight for the very country that had undertaken such measures against them, as American citizens.[xii]

In the mid-1990s, the Army stationed my family and me at Fort Lewis, Washington. As a young company-grade officer, my brigade commander tasked me to produce a display for the occasion of Asian American History Month. I did some research and came across the story of the 442^nd RCT, a unit I was only vaguely familiar with from past readings of military history. As I dug deeper, I became aware of some former members of the 442^nd RCT living in the Seattle area, not far from Fort Lewis. My wife and I made the journey to a small part of the city, where I met several veterans from the regiment. We were both struck by their humility and deep patriotism — everyone, including all their family members. I think of that gathering often, especially in divisive times like the one in which we currently live. Whether along political, cultural, racial, or ethnic lines, the chasm seems to expand almost daily. These men, these families, these Japanese Americans, can still teach us much about our country and ourselves. What does it mean to be an American? What is the system of values and principles that mark each of us as Americans? We need to look no further than the men of the 442^nd Regimental Combat Team. Beyond being heavily burdened with the internment policy their country had imposed upon their families, they sought neither glory nor medals but to simply prove to one and all that they, too, were Americans. And they were willing to fight and die for that same country.

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Notes

[i] Schweikart, L., & Allen, M. (2007). A Patriot's history of the United States: From Columbus's Great Discovery to the War on Terror. Sentinel, 593-597.

[ii] Takaki, Ronald (2008). A different mirror: A history of multicultural America. Back Bay Books, 342-343; McGaugh, Scott (2016). Honor before glory: The epic World War II story of the Japanese American GIs who rescued the lost battalion. Da Capo Press, 18.

[iii] Takaki, A different mirror, 343.

[iv] Ibid., 344; Sowell, Thomas (1981). Ethnic America: A history. Perseus Books Group, 172-173.

[v] McGaugh, Honor before glory, 18-19; Takaki, A different mirror, 344-345.

[vi] McGaugh, Honor before glory, 20; FDR letter to the Secretary of War, February 1, 1943; Sowell, Ethnic America, 174; Takaki, A different mirror, 348.

[vii] Ibid., 349; “They Were superb: The 442nd Japanese-American Unit in World War II and Self-Sacrifice.” Accessed at AP-088-All-2.pdf (billofrightsinstitute.org) on November 11, 2021; Takaki, A different mirror, 349.

[viii] “Kazuo Masuda: A Hero’s Story.” Accessed at EC-AZ-Galvin-Lesson3-Student.pdf (janm.org) on November 11, 2021.

[ix] Shiosaki, Fred. “The Rescue of the Lost Battalion.” Accessed at World War II book.indd on November 11, 2021; “They were superb: The 442^nd Japanese-American Unit in World War II and Self-Sacrifice.”

[x] “Going for broke: The 442^nd Regimental Combat Team.” Accessed at Going For Broke: The 442nd Regimental Combat Team | The National WWII Museum | New Orleans (nationalww2museum.org) on November 11, 2021; McGaugh, Honor before glory, 207.

[xi] Takaki, A different mirror, 349-350.

[xii] McGaugh, Honor before glory, 207.

Twenty Years Later: Patriotism after September 11, 2001 - By: COL (ret) Ed Lowe

The printed letter from Dupuy De Lomé, the Spanish prime minister to the United States, cast a disparaging portrait of President William McKinley, which did not sit well with the American public. De Lomé was quickly recalled to Spain and some attempt at an apology was made, while relations between the two nations deteriorated. A fortnight later, on February 15, 1898, the uncertainty of the two nation’s relations became explosively apparent with the destruction of the American battleship Maine in Havana Harbor, resulting in the death of 260 American sailors. Public outcry with the slogan, “Remember the Maine, to Hell with Spain,” ostensibly forced McKinley’s hands to take more aggressive action, resulting in the Spanish-American War. Future 26th President of the United States Theodore Roosevelt’s charge up San Juan Hill was a historic reminder of that conflict.[i]

Forty years later, Japan attacked the U.S. Naval Base in Hawaii and the nation’s rallying cry — a call to arms and action — was “Remember Pearl Harbor.” President Franklin D. Roosevelt put the nation’s anger and outrage into words, characterizing the Pearl Harbor attack as a “date which will live in infamy.” Once again, America rallied to the cause and the fight. The day after Pearl Harbor and the President’s speech, America was, once again, at war. Years of sacrifice by Americans propelled the nation to victory over the Axis powers. The arsenal of democracy was born and America began its ascent to global superpower status.[ii]

The nation’s then-deep and seemingly impassable political divide — stemming from disputes from Roosevelt’s New Deal policies to America’s role, if any, in the expanding world conflict— nearly evaporated after the Pearl Harbor attack. The Cedar Rapids Gazette probably echoed sentiments commonplace in households across the nation, reminding Americans that before Pearl Harbor “there were interventionists and isolationists, republicans and democrats, new dealers and anti-new dealers. Today there are only Americans.” The days of partisan politics and squabbles were in the past. “Unity,” as the Gazette emphasized, “is our national need.” The Mason City Globe-Gazette highlighted “All that America holds dear is at stake, our heritage of freedom, our glorification of man over state, our religion centering about the Golden Rule.” A few years later, in the summer of 1945, the allies achieved a lasting and sustainable victory with America emergent at the head of the free world. [iii]

The shadows of World War II had barely moved before the world was involved in another dominating conflict, the Cold War. A growing divide quickly emerged between free, capitalist nations and the socialist-communist bloc, led by the Soviet Union. Conflicts in Korea, Vietnam, and a tense standoff with Russian missiles on the small island nation of Cuba highlighted stark political and ideological differences. Words such as “Détente” and “Containment Theory” became well-known, a vocabulary deemed critical to advancing U.S. Foreign Policy. Then, with the election of President Ronald Reagan in 1980, the U.S. shifted from a mere balance of power mindset to one of complete victory.

The fall of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s ostensibly declared to the world freedom for all was at hand, a positive outlook for the world that had been handcuffed in conflict for much of the 20^th Century. Brighter and more peaceful days appeared to be on the horizon. The quick and strikingly easy U.S.-led coalition victory over Iraq in the 1991 Gulf War did not diminish the hopes that peace across the world was the flavor of the decade now that the Soviet empire was no more.

However, one man took notice of events around the world, sensing, perhaps, an opportunity, wrapped around his own religious and ideological thinking. This man was Usama Bin Laden. The ever-growing presence of American military personnel in Saudi Arabia following the Gulf War only fueled Bin Laden’s hatred and contempt for everything that was the West. Writing an edict in 1998, Bin Laden wrote about the occupation of Arab lands, the deaths of Muslims in the region, and that these offenses amounted to “a clear declaration of war on God, his messenger, and Muslims.” Bin Laden closed with a fatwah against America:

The ruling to kill the Americans and their allies—civilians and military—is an individual duty for every Muslim who can do it in any country in which it is possible to do it, in order to liberate the Al-Aqsa Mosque [in Jerusalem] and the holy mosque [the Haram Mosque in Mecca] from their grip, and in order for their armies to move out of all the lands of Islam, defeated and unable to threaten any Muslim.

For Usama Bin Laden, war had been declared and the plans that would ultimately result in 9/11 began to grow.[iv]

As a young major assigned to the 519^th Military Police Battalion at sunny Fort Polk, Louisiana, that Tuesday was like any other day. The morning’s routine physical fitness session was over. I was relaxing in my living room, catching the latest scores on ESPN, when my wife abruptly shouted from the upstairs bedroom that a plane had struck one of the World Trade Center. Like so many Americans who watched that morning, I considered the first strike against the towers a tragic mistake — a pilot error, perhaps. Then, as we watched with growing concern, we saw the second plane hit the South Tower. Without saying a word, we both knew this was no accident; this was deliberate. I quickly dressed and rushed into work, arriving just in time as a third plane struck the Pentagon. Whether it was declared or not, America was at war. Three months later, I was processing detainees in Kandahar, Afghanistan. As declared by President Bush on the rubble that was once the standing towers, the search for Bin Laden and his associates became America’s primary mission. Like the “Shot Heard Round the World” at Lexington and Concord during our early beginnings, Lincoln’s mighty Second Inaugural Address, or the heartening and unifying slogans of “Remember the Maine” or “Remember Pearl Harbor,” Americans’ emblazoned past glories and times of unity manifested themselves in a similar phrase — “Remember 9/11!”

Members of Congress singing "God Bless America."

Eerily similar to today’s hostile political and cultural climate, twenty years ago the nation was still coming to terms with an election, the election between George W. Bush and Al Gore. One author, Gertrude Himmelfarb, published a book appropriately titled, One Nation, Two Cultures. The title remains fitting today in 2021 — one nation and two cultures and, feasibly, even more. Sitting at an approval rating hovering just over 50% before September 11, 2001, President Bush’s job approval rating shot up to an astonishing 90%. After 9/11, for a period, political and cultural differences seemed to take a back seat.  “Both sides,” Himmelfarb wrote, “think themselves as extremely patriotic. And at a time like this, patriotism overrides other considerations.” Harkening back to images of the Revolutionary War or World War II, Lionel Waxman for the Inside Tucson Business spoke of Americans across the nation running to the sound of the guns to fight for, or at least assist their fellow Americans. Race or ethnic differences mattered little. As Waxman concluded, “They are just Americans doing what Americans have always done when needed.” Americans rallied around each other, the flag, and their wounded nation.[v]

Gallup polls for this period, both immediately before and after September 11, 2001, reflected a surge in patriotism, church attendance, and support for the Federal government; however, almost shockingly, those percentages quickly receded to pre-9/11 numbers. In a September 2003 article for the Gallup, Jeffrey M. Jones drew attention to these abrupt changes. He underscored how President Bush enjoyed strong support a month after the attacks. Yet, by September 2002, those percentages had fallen 20 percentage points and almost to pre-9/11 numbers by August 2003.

George W. Bush Approval Ratings

	Pre-9/11: Sep 2001	Post-9/11: Oct 2001	First Anniv: Sep 2002	Most Recent: Aug 2003
Percentage Approving	51%	89	66	59

Congressional ratings paralleled President Bush’s, obtaining a remarkable high of 84% approval in October 2001 and then quickly back down to 45% in August 2003.

Congressional Job Approval Ratings

	Pre-9/11: Sep 2001	Post-9/11: Oct 2001	First Anniv: Sep 2002	Most Recent: Aug 2003
Percentage Approving	42%	84	52	45

Likewise, nearly 70% of Americans agreed with the way policies were being executed after the attacks; however, those percentages almost matched pre-9/11 percentages at 46% by August 2003. There was a slight increase in church attendance following the attacks, up six points from 41% before September 11. A year and a half later even that percentage had dipped to 38%. Jones concluded, “While those events did not dramatically transform the way Americans go about their daily lives, the fact that certain attitudes and behaviors have yet to return to their pre-9/11 levels two years later illustrates that the terrorist attacks still affect Americans today.”[vi]

Signs of patriotism after September 11, 2001.

Recent events in Afghanistan afford an opportunity to pause and reflect on those American men and women who served in that country, many of whom did not make it back to our shores – not to mention the resources and financial cost. Was it worth it? Was it all in vain, with ostensibly no purpose or goal achieved? Having served in Kandahar and Kabul, I would argue that, at least for 20 years, a hope and optimism for a better future was spread around Afghanistan, including a sense of security against future terrorist attacks perpetrated against the U.S. or other nations around the world. I am reminded of what President Kennedy said about the South Vietnamese people, essentially declaring that, in the end, it is their country, their future. We, the United States, could provide some of the needed equipment and resources, but they had to want it — demonstrating a clear willingness to fight and sacrifice for the betterment of their own people. There seems little question Americans grew tired of the War in Afghanistan — the seemingly endless deployments — and were receptive to finally ending it and bringing the men and women of our military home. That said, the way the exit was executed is concerning, leaving open, perhaps, a range of complex problems that may haunt us again in the future.

As the twentieth anniversary of September 11, 2001 approaches, Americans should not forget how we came together as a nation following those attacks. Let that memory serve as a reminder Americans can come together and forge victory even after the most trying of times. We can either fight these battles together or we can return to our divided tribal corners, creating rifts across the country and fracturing any unity forged during difficult times. As Gertrude Himmelfarb warned in her book after the 2000 election, “We may see the differences reassert themselves.” May they not. On September 11, 2021, let us reflect on a time when the people of this land came together through the darkness. Let us not forget.[vii]

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Notes

[i] “Remember the Maine” USHistor.Org. 44c. accessed August 6, 2021.

[ii] “A date which will live in infamy: The first typed draft of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s war address.” National Archives at 'A Date Which Will Live in Infamy' | National Archives. Accessed August 6, 2021.

[iii] Peterson, William J. “Remember Pearl Harbor.” The Palimpest, Volume 23, No. 2, February 1, 1942, 36, 42-43.

[iv] Porter, J.M.B. “Osama Bin-Laden, Jihad, and the Sources of International Terrorism.” Ind. Int’L, & Comp. L. Rev. Volume 13, No. 3, 2003, 881-883.

[v] Waxman, Lionel, “Whatever happened to patriotism?” Inside Tucson Business, September 24-30, 2001. Page 5.

[vi] Jones, Jeffrey M. “Sept. 11 Effects, Though Largely Faded, Persist.” Gallup. September 9, 2003. Sept. 11 Effects, Though Largely Faded, Persist (gallup.com). Accessed August 18, 2021.

[vii] Waxman, “Whatever happened to patriotism?”, Page 6.

The Grant-Beckwith “Washington Cipher” Affair: “He Should Have Gone to Prison” - By: Cory M. Pfarr

In the winter of 1863-1864 during the American Civil War, Major General Ulysses S. Grant, then-commander of the Division of the Mississippi, consisting of the combined Federal Armies of the Ohio, Tennessee, and Cumberland, met his match in the form of a cipher book and key.

Major General Ulysses S. Grant, commander of the Division of the Mississippi at the time of the “Washington Ciper” affair in January-February 1864. (Photo: Library of Congress)

Grant looked to travel from his Division’s headquarters in Nashville, Tennessee to Knoxville in late-1863 to personally inspect the existing state of military affairs in East Tennessee. At the time, Federal Major General Ambrose Burnside (eventually supported by reinforcements under Brigadier General William Tecumseh Sherman) continued to fend off an ill-supplied, ill-supported, and ultimately ill-fated Confederate foray into East Tennessee led by Lieutenant General James Longstreet. There was one significant problem for Grant though: he deemed it necessary to have a person accompany him on this trip who was capable of sending and receiving enciphered dispatches.[i]

Enter Samuel Beckwith, a telegraphic cipher clerk with the U.S. Military Telegraph Corps (USMTC) and assigned to Grant. The USMTC, established October 1861, was one of two Federal army signaling operations during the Civil War; the other being the Signal Corps (not officially established until March 1863). The USMTC leveraged the existing commercial telegraph systems for the War Department to facilitate communications between Federal armies in the field and Washington. The USMTC operated independently from military control, with its personnel makeup consisting of civilian telegraph operators and some supervisory personnel with military commissions from the Quartermaster Department, all under the direct supervision of the Secretary of War.   

As events turned out, Beckwith came to be so closely associated with Grant that other staff officers nicknamed him “Grant’s Shadow.” Secretary of War, Edwin M. Stanton, who oversaw the USMTC and always kept a tight hold on its operations, intended for Beckwith to accompany Grant wherever he went so that the Major General could always rely on the clerk to facilitate secret communications between him and the War Department in Washington. By January 1864, these particular communications were enciphered using “a new and very complicated cipher,” as then-General-in-Chief of all Union armies, Major General Henry W. Halleck characterized it.[ii]

Captain Samuel Beckwith, the USMTC cipher clerk known as "Grant's Shadow," in his later years. (Photo: Library of Congress)

The USMTC cipher system leveraged what were commonly known during the Civil War as “route ciphers.” In an article published in September 1889, a former USMTC operator, John Emmet O’Brien, concisely described how the route cipher worked: “The principle of the cipher consisted in writing a message with an equal number of words in each line, then copying the words up and down the columns by various routes, throwing in an extra word at the end of each column, and substituting other words for important names and verbs.” In 1960, the dean of modern American cryptologists, William F. Friedman, analyzed the USMTC cryptosystem and concluded that the writing, copying, and use of a cipher book to apply a prearranged route to transcribe the plaintext into a cipher message qualified it to be a called a cipher. That said, Friedman maintained that the addition of “arbitraries” to the USMTC cryptosystem—“words arbitrarily assigned to represent the names of persons, geographic points, important nouns, and verbs, etc.”—actually entitled the system to be more precisely characterized as a code system comprised of “cipher and code processes.”[iii]  

That said, Grant’s problem, as he recognized it, was that his Knoxville trip not only required he keep a skilled telegraphic operator in Nashville—the relay chokepoint for secret dispatches between him and the War Department—but that he also bring along a capable operator to send and receive enciphered messages from Knoxville. He could not have Beckwith in both Knoxville and Nashville, so Grant did what might be considered the next logical thing under less secretive circumstances and told his “shadow” to remain in Nashville, while instructing him to simply hand over a copy of the complicated “Washington cipher” to a person Grant trusted and believed capable of quickly learning how to handle enciphered messages. That person turned out to be Colonel Cyrus B. Comstock of the Corps of Engineers and a member of Grant’s staff.

Colonel Cyrus B. Comstock, the officer who was handed an unauthorized copy of the "Washington Ciper." (Photo: Library of Congress)

Yet, as events turned out, Grant’s plan was neither simple to implement nor compliant with War Department instructions. For one, Beckwith initially refused to comply with Grant’s request to give a copy of the cipher book and key to Comstock. According to Grant, the clerk told him “his orders from the War Department were not to give it [the cipher book and key] to anyone –the commanding general or any one else.” Following this rebuttal, a tense, stand-off ensued between Beckwith and Grant, whereby according to the Division commander, “I told him I would see whether he would [give up the book and key] or not. He said that if he did he would be punished. I told him if he did not he most certainly would be punished.” Finally, as Grant later recounted, Beckwith “[saw] that punishment was certain if he refused longer to obey my order” and ultimately “yielded” upon recognizing that no one from the War Department was present to support his refusal.[iv]

Though Grant unsurprisingly came out the victor in this stand-off with the cipher clerk, his desired outcome was certainly not the end of the matter. Soon enough, word got back to USMTC leadership, Stanton, and Halleck about what had transpired.

Between January 20 and February 4, 1864, a steady flurry of messages was traded between Grant and Halleck—perhaps more truthfully stated, between Grant and Stanton, with Halleck as intermediary—whereby the Division commander was asked to justify his actions before ultimately being reprimanded. After explaining what happened and attempting to reassure Halleck that “I shall be as cautious as I possibly can, that improper persons do not get the key to official correspondence,” Grant moved on to protesting what he deemed to be “interference” from Colonel Anson Stager, the Superintendent of the USMTC and essentially Stanton’s deputy. Shortly after learning Beckwith had conceded defeat and intended to hand over the cipher to Comstock, Stager sent the following dispatch to Captain Samuel Bruch, the assistant superintendent of Grant’s Mississippi Division: “Beckwith must not instruct anyone in the cipher. An order will be issued and sent to you on this subject.”

Seeing Grant characterize his dispatch to Bruch as “interference,” Stager determined to defend his actions and wrote Halleck on January 21. Stanton’s deputy for the USMTC emphasized his belief “that the request of the staff officer for copy of the cipher was without General Grant’s authority,” while reminding Halleck, “The Secretary of War recently issued that the operators for this duty should be held responsible for strict privacy in its use….The new cipher was arranged with a view of being used by telegraph experts, and it is believed cannot be used with any success by others than telegraphers.” Stager further drew attention to his impression that “a great number of errors have been made by staff officers working ciphers, owing to their lack of experience in telegraphic characters, and it is believed that greater accuracy can be secured by placing ciphers in the hands of experts selected for this duty.” Once again stressing that the Washington cipher “arranged for General Grant should not be known to any other party,” Stager vented that he was “exceedingly mortified” and suffered from an “anxiety” about letting Beckwith continue on with his operator duties under Grant.

Colonel Anson Stager, Superintendent of the USMTC. (Photo: Library of Congress)

With Stager’s views in hand and undoubtedly upon informing and consulting the hot-tempered Edwin M. Stanton, Halleck prepared Grant’s reprimand, which landed on the Division commander’s desk on January 22. Grant was informed that in complying with his request, Beckwith “disobeyed the Secretary and has been dismissed.” Perhaps relaying some of Stanton’s fury, Halleck went further and intimated that Beckwith actually “should have gone to prison,” while repeatedly reminding Grant that Stanton “takes the personal supervision and direction of the military telegraphs” with the “telegraphic operators receiv[ing] their instructions directly from the Secretary of War.” These instructions “should not be interfered with except under very extraordinary circumstances,” Halleck declared. Adding insult to injury, Halleck used Grant’s own word “interference” against him, pronouncing that it was not Stager, but Comstock (and by extension, Grant) who “interfered with the orders of the War Department,” while reminding Grant (again with it being hard not to hear echoes of Stanton behind this verbiage) that Stager was no less than the “confidential agent of the Secretary of War, and directs all telegraphic matters under his orders.” Finally, Grant was informed that because of this unauthorized disclosure, the Secretary of War ordered an entirely new cipher created “which is to be communicated to no one, no matter what his rank, without his [Stanton’s] special authority.”    

Grant replied in an apologetic and gracious manner on February 4, making it amply clear that his primary focus was on restoring Beckwith to his cipher clerk duties. “I will state that Beckwith is one of the best of men. He is competent and industrious,” Grant highlighted, before putting the blame for the error on himself and not Beckwith: “In the matter for which he has been discharged, he only obeyed my orders and could not have done otherwise than he did and remain….His position is important to him and a better man cannot be selected for it. I respectfully ask that Beckwith be restored.” Grant’s compassionate response was a testament to his paramount leadership abilities. Indeed, just less than a month after the conclusion of this trying episode, Grant was promoted to lieutenant general, the first U.S. Army officer to hold that rank since George Washington. For the remainder of the war, Grant would command all Union armies.[v]

As for Beckwith, he was restored to his position on February 14 and continued on as “Grant’s shadow” until the end of the war, rising to the rank of captain in the 11^th New York Infantry. Significantly, Beckwith was the first telegrapher to transmit news of John Wilkes Booth’s whereabouts as authorities searched for him following the assassination of Abraham Lincoln on April 14, 1865.[vi]

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Notes

[i] Ulysses S. Grant, Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant, 397-398.

[ii] The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, 128 vols. (Washington D.C. 1880-1901), Series 1, vol. 32, pt. 2, 172; Hereafter cited as OR. All references are to Series 1 unless otherwise noted; The Friedman Legacy: A Tribute to William and Elizebeth Friedman, 3rd Edition, (Center for Cryptologic History: National Security Agency, 2006), 58-59.

[iii] John Emmet O’Brien, M.D., Telegraphing in Battle: Reminiscences of the Civil War, (Scranton, PA, 1910), 87; The Friedman Legacy, 58-59. 

[iv] Grant, Personal Memoirs, 397-398. 

[v] OR 32/2: 150, 161, 172-173, 323

[vi] “Samuel Beckwith,” https://historica.fandom.com/wiki/Samuel_Beckwith.