As a commander, he always had a grip on his men and could make them do what he wanted. His discipline was founded on sympathy and a thorough understanding of a subordinate's position. At Drewry's Bluff he thought Whiting had failed him utterly and said so in his report, yet in such a way as to keep Whiting's affection and devotion. Those things are the test of a true leader. How simple and charmingly characteristic is the general's own account of a bit of disciplinary work: "By the by, I discharged a few days ago my mounted orderly, the famous Aaron Jones, for neglect of duty, but could not resist his appeal, which was, 'General, I enlisted purposely to be with you, and I would rather die under you than live under any other general.' I scolded him and let him off." 35 He believed that, in a volunteer army, at any rate, more was to be obtained by encouragement and inspiration than by severity. Therefore he urged promotions, honors, and rewards, so far as lay in his power, and he employed a system of himself distributing badges of bravery which made a scene no doubt as grateful to the commander as to the commanded.
Yet he could be absolutely unyielding, if circumstances required it. When a battle was imminent, a soldier begged leave to visit his dying mother. "I can grant no leave." "Only ten days, general." "I will not give you ten hours." 36 That was all there was to it. And where will you find a more terse, vigorous, and scathing accusation of a subordinate than this letter about Ripley, who, it
