But in war it is always the unexpected which happens. Pending Garfield’s departure to Hunter’s command, his old army, then merged with the Army of the Cumberland, under the command of General Rosecrans, who relieved Buell, had, on the last day of the year of 1862, plunged into the battle of Stone River. During the day a cannon-ball took off the head of the beloved Garesché, chief of General Rosecrans’s staff. The place was important, and hard to fill. It required a man of high military ability to act as chief confidential adviser of the commanding general, both as to the general plan of a campaign, and the imperious exigencies of battle. Rosecrans had relied much on Garesché, and, just when so much was expected of the Army of the Cumberland, the War Department feared the testy General might become unmanageable, and, though well versed in the practice of warfare, give way just at the crisis. The chief of staff also had to be a man of pleasant social qualities to fit him for the intimate relation. Much as the War Department at Washington thought of Rosecrans at this time, his violent temper and invincible obstinacy rendered it imperative that some one should be with him who would prevent an absolute rupture upon trifling grounds. But in addition to these things, the chief of staff had to be a man of faultless generosity and unselfishness; he had to be a man who would exert his own genius for another’s glory; he had to be willing to see the plans of brilliant campaigns, which were the product of his own mind, taken up and used by another; he had to be willing to see reports of victories, which were the results of his own military skill, sent to Washington over the name of the commanding general, in which his own name was never mentioned. He was to do the work and get no glory for it. All this he had to do cheerfully, and with a heart loyal to his superior. There must be no division of counsel, no lukewarm support, no heart-burnings at head-quarters. To the army and the world there was but one man—the general. In reality there were two men—the general and his chief of staff. A prime minister sometimes succeeds in erecting for himself a fame separate, and not merged in the splendor of his sovereign. Wolsey and Richelieu and Talleyrand all did so. But the chief of staff was to know no fame, no name for himself. His light was merged and lost in the corruscations of the man above him. To find a man who united the highest military ability with a genial nature, and who was willing to go utterly without glory himself, was a difficult task. In a moment Stanton fixed his eye on Garfield. Without warning, the commission to South Carolina was revoked. Garfield was ordered to report at once to General Rosecrans, whose head-quarters were at Murfreesboro, Tennessee, as a result of the victory at Stone River.