1850 American Gold Tycoon.

Chapter 683 America has its own national conditions

"General McClellan, watch your words. So far, the federal government has provided more than $400 for the troops at Omaha."

Astor, who comes from the second-largest team in New York, does not speak as aggressively as Stevens, but his words are sharper.

"How can you brazenly say that our soldiers are under-trained, short of supplies, and have questionable weapons and equipment? Didn't the money allocated to you by the federal government go to practical use? Did you use it for other purposes?"

When Astor put on his hat, McClellan was so frightened that he broke out in a cold sweat and felt a chill down his spine. He thought to himself, "Don't you know where the $400 million has been spent?"

McClellan did not deny that the federal government had indeed approved $400 million in military funds for the Western Front, and that most of the funds had indeed reached the Western Front.

But America has its own national conditions. Given the unique capitalist system of the United States, the logistics system of the U.S. military is not perfect, and the U.S. government has never had the experience and ability to provide logistical supplies for an army of nearly 20.

With the outbreak of the Civil War, the size of the army expanded rapidly, and the federal government was unable to quickly establish an efficient logistical supply chain. Therefore, the Union Army now relied heavily on private contractors to provide food, clothing, weapons, ammunition, and transportation services to the army.

Although the federal government allocated $400 million in military funding to the Union Army on the Western Front, which seems like a lot, in fact, we should be thankful that this $400 million could only generate $220 million in purchasing power.

McClellan wished he could greet all the insects present. The market wholesale price of high-quality Boston refined flour was US$51 per ton, and the purchase price after bidding was US$112 per ton.

The price of a pound of high-quality coffee on the market is about 22 cents, and the purchase price given by the military's designated high-quality supplier is 57 cents per pound.

Not to mention that these materials basically have to be purchased from the east, and the transportation companies and railway companies have to intervene to transport these materials from the east to Omaha. The transportation costs are naturally very staggering.

"I don't care about your equipment or your training!" Livingston interrupted, his tone was very impatient, "General McClellan, you are a soldier, I think you know that now we urgently need a victory to inspire our people! The pressure from Washington is increasing, and the voices in the political arena are deafening. You can't delay any longer!"

McClellan's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turned white, if these guys were not people he could not easily provoke, McClellan wanted to beat them up right now. He tried to persuade them to stay calm and restrained.

"Mr. Livingston, you say it easily, but can you understand the fear of the soldiers on the front line? Can you understand the feelings of those young people who are facing life and death after each order is issued?

What they are facing now is a well-equipped and well-trained modern army, not Indian tribes!

Yes, we need to win, I admit it. But it is not easy to win against the Yankees. "

Livingston stood straight, his eyes burning, his attitude still very stubborn. Obviously, McClellan's words did not move him, nor did they resonate with him at all.

"Fear? McClellan! You are a soldier. Aren't you trained for this moment? If you can't even bear this little sacrifice, what's the point of taxpayers supporting you? I am really ashamed of your cowardice."

McClellan took a deep breath, and endless disappointment flashed in his eyes.

"Mr. Livingston. War is not an easy game. I have to remind you that if we attack rashly, the Yankee army may very likely destroy our fragile front, and the entire situation will be reversed in an instant. If our army holds Omaha, we still have hope of remaining undefeated." McClellan remained patient.

"We have enough soldiers, but these guys still lack training and experience. If we take the initiative to attack now, we will send these guys to their deaths. We are not facing one of the Westerners' troops, but the elite of the entire West."

"Excuses! These are all excuses! McClellan, if you dare not take responsibility and continue to shrink back like a turtle, history will remember you as a cowardly and incompetent commander, and you will be nailed to the pillar of shame forever!" Astor's words were more intense, and his aggressiveness and lethality were stronger than Livingston's.

"You are right." McClellan's voice gradually became lower and lower. "I understand what it means to retreat. But please understand that I cannot use countless innocent lives as political bargaining chips. Please go back. You have no right to command the army. I only obey orders from Washington."

McClellan's last stubbornness was to only obey orders from Washington. He hoped that Lincoln and his cabinet were still clear-headed and could withstand the pressure for him.

Astor looked at McClellan coldly, sneered and said, "Your Excellency means that as long as you receive an order from Washington, you will definitely execute it?"

"Of course, I am loyal to and responsible to His Excellency the President," McClellan responded.

At this moment, Lincoln's situation was not much better than McClellan's, and it could even be said to be worse.

Washington, shrouded in darkness, did not fall into silence. Instead, it was ignited by anger, with noise, curses, and shouts intertwined into one.

Pennsylvania Avenue was packed with people, and the streets and alleys were filled with protesters. Men in Washington clenched their fists and waved newspapers. The ink on the newspapers had not yet dried, but they were torn into pieces and blown away by the wind. Women stood behind the crowd, hugged their children nervously, and cried softly. Some people angrily banged on pot lids, and some lit torches and held them high in the air, illuminating the night in Washington.

"We lost! We actually lost!" A well-dressed middle-aged businessman shouted angrily, his face flushed with excitement, "These politicians said the war would end in three months? It's only been a month! Those barbarians in the South are about to break into Washington! They are liars! All liars!"

The failed federal government at Fort Sumter and Fort Kearny in South Carolina could still fool the public with Spring and Autumn style writing, treating the funeral as a celebration.

But they were unable to do so after the humiliating defeat at Manassas, 30 kilometers away, because some of the deserters from Manassas even ran into Washington.

This is a fact that cannot be covered up in any way. Almost everyone in Washington knows that their army has failed, and it is a devastating defeat that they cannot accept.

"And Lincoln! He's the biggest liar!"

"Yes! We should never have elected this rural Illinois lawyer!"

"The government must give us an explanation! Lincoln must give us an explanation!" A young craftsman waved his arms, his voice hoarse, "We paid taxes, we donated money, we sent our sons to the battlefield! But now? What do they bring back to us? Desertion! Failure! Shame!"

"Are our federal troops scared?" An old soldier in a ragged coat stood in the crowd. His left leg was lost in the last Mexican-American War. The old soldier asked harshly.

"Will the southern barbarians attack Washington tomorrow? Will Lincoln wait until the artillery fire reaches the White House before he wakes up?"

The anger of the crowd gathered into a roaring torrent on the street, and continued to surge towards the presidential palace. Some people smashed their fists on the gate of the White House, some threw stones into the walls of the White House, and even soldiers mixed in the crowd and shouted: "Let the government give us a victory!"

The guards in front of the White House tried to disperse the crowd, but were immediately pushed to the ground by the angry citizens, and even their hats rolled to the side. More guards began to gather, but their eyes showed uneasiness - this is Washington, the heart of the federal government!

But now, even their hearts are surrounded by fear and anger, and there is no trace of the previous order.

"Fight back! Fight back!"

“The government must give us victory!”

Someone else shouted in the crowd.

Behind the curtains of the White House Oval Office, Abraham Lincoln silently looked at the crowd in the square, his face hidden in the dim candlelight.

He seemed to be able to see through the crowd to the devastated battlefield in Manassas.

The defeat at Manassas was more than a military defeat—it was the beginning of a collapse of confidence in the Union. For the first time, Northerners truly realized that the war was not going to be easily won in a few months, as some legislators had claimed.

"They don't understand..." Lincoln muttered to himself, his slender fingers tapping the table unconsciously, "The army needs time, the country needs patience, and the people need even more patience."

Secretary of State Seward, who lived under the same roof, had a gloomy face, as if he had just been doused with cold water.

"time?"

Seward muttered in a low voice: "I'm afraid we don't have much time. Robert Lee won't give us time, and Liang Yao won't give us time either. These federal traitors deserve to die. Those incompetent generals and soldiers on the front line deserve to die even more!"

"We have given them so much power and raised so much money for them, but they still can't win! They should all be sent to military courts for trial!" said the Federal Finance Minister Salmon Chase bitterly.

In order to raise the military funds needed for an army of 200,000, his spine was almost broken by the Northerners. Unexpectedly, none of the federal troops on the east and west fronts were useful at the critical moment and all of them failed.

Presidential Secretary Nicola walked into the room quickly and whispered to Lincoln in a serious tone, "Sir, Congress is also in an uproar. Many members are demanding more radical action. They want you to appoint a new commander-in-chief - a commander who can win victory for the Union. They also ask..."

"What else do they want? Nicholas, speak out loud!" Lincoln's thin face was shrouded in the shadows of candlelight and night. His eyes were as calm as water, making it difficult to understand.

(End of this chapter)