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Moral Confusion in Wartime - July 4th, 2008

by Daniel Mallock

I like to send interesting stories and commentary to my friends.

Recently, I sent a friend a link to an article written by Alan Dershowitz, the great Harvard lawyer and champion of American liberty and of Israel, which defended and explained Israel’s right to defend itself against the ongoing rocket attacks by the terrorist group Hamas I thought quite convincingly. (You can read the article here.) My friend did not like the article at all, finding fault in it, and declaring himself in disagreement with it.

I had thought Dershowitz’ arguments solid and difficult to refute as they were so grounded in international law, precedent, and logic. The reaction of my friend, which so confused me, gave me great pause and took me on a path that finally led me to the beginning of understanding how some Americans, otherwise intelligent and thoughtful, can be so self-hating and so seemingly out-of-context that what they consider reasoned, thoughtful argument is, in actuality, some form of Orwellian anti-rational intellectual and moral confusion.

To me, my friend, a very religious man was, in his astounding refutation of Dershowitz a man sunk in moral confusion. I wanted to understand how this could be so.

I asked him to explain.

I wrote, “What are your counter arguments?”

He replied, “They are all insane over there. I hope someday sanity will return.”

“They are not ALL insane,” I replied. “There is such a thing as good and evil.”

The correspondence continued with his reply, “Those who are in power over there have chosen the path of mutual destruction. That is evil. Nothing good will come of this until another path is chosen. You see, I can tell the difference. It is obvious.”

I replied, asking, “Those in power in Israel have chosen mutual destruction because they are defending their country from attack which is their right according to every international law and treaty? Your world is upside down.”

My friend replied asking if I thought that “mutual destruction is their right? Now whose world is upside down?”

Things were getting very interesting. I could sense that this discourse would lead somewhere important. And maybe I could understand finally how and why he thought in a way that I simply could not comprehend.

I replied that I had never suggested such a thing (that mutual destruction is either party’s “right”).

I asked, “Are you suggesting that self-defense is equivalent to mutual destruction?”

His response was instructive. “Yes, you are finally starting to see the light. In the long run, (making war) in self defense or any reason=mutual destruction. Both sides are engaging in a conflict that NEITHER can win.”

My friend concluded by writing, “They are both engaged in hurting themselves. This is insane and evil. It is important for everyone to understand that what is going on over there has got to stop.”

What was happening here? My friend, an otherwise brilliant and caring fellow, was deeply confused about the morality that characterized the aggressor and the defender (or victim). For him, conflict itself was evil and any party engaged in it was “wrong” regardless of the fact that they were defending themselves from attack.

This moral confusion does not allow him to differentiate between right and the wrong in the midst of conflict, the attacker and the victim. I finally began to understand. My friend could not, would not, make a moral stand and identify aggressor and victim, both were in the wrong, because both were in conflict. This irrational approach to the world is contrary to all of human history and contrary to our own experience of 9/11 and our post-9/11 world.

In his mind the United States is wrong to be in Iraq, though we have freed an entire country from despotism and are building a nascent democracy in a region that has never known freedom. Our several thousand casualties are mourned by us all. The cost in treasure and blood is high. However, in the context of previous wars the cost has been comparatively low in the bloody calculus of war. Consider: at Antietam 5,000 casualties in 15 minutes; at Cold Harbor 5,000 casualties in ten minutes; at Franklin 7,000 casualties in 4 hours. Comparatively, the war for Iraq has been astoundingly low in casualties after conquering the country, fighting a brutal insurgent enemy, and having some 3,000 American’s killed in 5 years of war there to keep the country free and to prevent its return to barbarism and tyranny. This does not include the ongoing fighting in Afghanistan where fighting has been increasing lately. If we are successful in Iraq and Afghanistan, our futures are all brighter as are the Iraqis and Afghan people’s and that is why we fight.

There is the complaint (and demand) that the soldiers must come home- now! But the war is not over, and to leave would create a vacuum that would be filled by our enemies nullifying every gain, and showing our hardened and callous enemies that we are weak. The context of history shows that restructuring countries and cultures is time consuming-WW2 ended in 1945, but US forces are still in Germany, and still in Japan.

During World War 2 the refrain had often been “this is why we fight”. The country was reminding itself that the horrifically high costs of fighting Nazism and Japanese Imperialism in blood and treasure were justified. Our current war is much different.

9/11 was a far more horrific attack than Pearl Harbor. After Pearl Harbor the entire society of the United States was mobilized for war. But since our enemies now do rarely wear uniforms but turbans and beards and burkhas, and a book, the response has been quite different. The West has long been in conflict with Islam. Wars have been fought in the past between the West and Islamic expansion, this current conflict is the newest campaign in a centuries old conflict of attack and defense. Now, we in the United States who look mainly to the future are faced with an enemy who looks to the future only as a means to return to the distant past. This is an enemy we can barely understand… but slowly it is sinking in with some of us that their goals are contrary to our own survival as a nation and a people, and that they will do anything and everything to achieve them. Fundamentally, their goal is the destruction of our society, culture, religions, and way of life. How many beheaded Americans, and blown up office towers does one need to understand the goals of the enemy?

My disturbing but enlightening correspondence with my friend got me to reading and research. How can my friend be so confused? The answer is complex and simple. Please watch the video posted at the end of this thread. I found it very enlightening and very important.

I read “The Closing of the American Mind” by Allan Bloom. Professor Bloom makes a convincing case that the culture and our higher educational institutions are to blame for my friend’s moral confusion. Our universities teach inclusiveness, to the exclusion of all else, and political correctness - we mustn’t offend, we mustn’t suggest that our culture is superior, that our way of life of government is better than some other form(s). This could cause offense or upset. So it must be avoided. But the fact remains that our system is by far superior to most other forms currently in existence or those that have passed into history. It ought to be no crime to suggest it, or state it.

Our enemies see this pervasive almost bizarre desire in American society to be inclusive, to not offend as one of our greatest weaknesses. They exploit this flaw in our culture and political and legal institutions and our rampant moral confusion to undermine our society, sow dissent and legitimize their own cruelties and destructive and malicious goals. Our enemies have a long-term horizon that we can barely even conceive.

Albert Einstein was the greatest thinker of the 20th century. A native German who fled the rise of Nazism, Einstein’s mother tongue was German. When he died in 1955 his last words were heard, but not understood. I compare the modern American left with Einstein’s nurse.

“He died in his sleep at a hospital in Princeton, New Jersey on April 18, 1955, leaving the Generalized Theory of Gravitation unsolved. The only person present at his deathbed, a hospital nurse, said that just before his death he mumbled several words in German that she did not understand. He was cremated without ceremony on the same day he died at Trenton, New Jersey in accordance with his wishes. His ashes were scattered at an undisclosed location.”

It seems that so much is happening, so much that is so clear and so important, but simply cannot be seen by so many. It’s almost as if a great segment of the country has become Einstein’s nurse and the world is utterly unintelligible to them.

There is more of course.

An angry, deeply confused columnist in the Philadelphia Inquirer today posted a piece stating that the United States has “sinned”, and that “America doesn’t deserve to celebrate its birthday.” Mr. Satullo suggests that we have betrayed the July 4th “creed”, and that we have trampled the vows we have made as a country. He says that we must “put out no flags” on the 4th, and that we mustn’t sing patriotic hymns as “we deserve no Fourth this year”. Mr. Satullo demands that we all “atone” for our “sins…in quiet and humility”.

Can there be a more disrespectful, clueless, bitter, partisan, out-of-context screed anywhere published in the country more abysmal and disgusting than this tripe from a disaffected Utopian in Philadelphia - for July 4th during time of war?

Where is Mr. Satullo’s condemnation of our enemies? Where is the congratulations for our brave military men and women? Where is the acknowledgment of our current economic difficulties and tribulations? Where is the appreciation for the greatness of this country?

I ask all of my readers to cancel their subscription to the Philadelphia Inquirer. I ask any reader who advertises in the Philadelphia Inquirer to cancel all business relationships with that company.

Otherwise intelligent people like Mr. Satullo, apparently have no context in which to judge the actions of the United States; have little understanding of international events and their complexities, have a minimal grasp of conflict and of warfare and of history.

Abraham Lincoln, considered by many to be the greatest President in our history might have closed the Philadelphia Inquirer for sedition, had Mr. Satullo been published in 1862 or 1863. Mr. Lincoln actually did close newspapers for sedition in Baltimore. I am not suggesting that Mr. Satullo be censored, or the paper closed.

I am hoping instead that a groundswell of public revulsion will greet the Philadelphia Inquirer in the coming days and months so that they are impacted where it hurts the most for them - in their pocket books. If every reader of that publication were to abandon it- that would be perfectly acceptable to me.

Undermining our will to fight, supporting our enemies who want us all dead or enslaved - during wartime - is an abysmal thing and ought not to be countenanced. Mr. Satullo is certainly welcome to his mistaken opinions, but he should understand that most Americans do not concur with his self-hating and ignorant ideas. In fact, most Americans most assuredly find his article reprehensible and worthy of strong criticism.

The moral confusion of my friend, and the obvious self-hatred and ignorance of the Philadelphia Inquirer columnist are not isolated or rare events.

This deeply confused and morally corrupt approach to the world, based on a slanted mis-education from our universities overrun with leftist activist “educators” to a culture that demands a legitimazation of philosophies having even our own destruction at their core, and the diminishment of our martial abilities and a revision of our recent and distant pasts so that we will not fight, because as my friend has stated, “fighting is wrong” is a hideous response to attack and will not sustain us. We must accept that the world is not Utopia, and likely will not be, ever. IF however, Utopia is possible, we must defeat evil first in order to bring it about, yes?

But we must fight - there is no alternative.

Can one convert a Nazi? Can one convince a Hitler that world domination is not the best course? Can one overturn centuries of hatred and arrogance with words, when the world is overrun with swords and bombs and guns - and a book that instructs adherents to “kill the unbelievers”? We are almost too sophisticated for our own good. Too many of us cannot conceive that there can be so many millions who believe that “unbelievers” (us!) must die, that no form of religion is acceptable to them but theirs and that no form of law or society can exist but theirs.

How can it be that 9/11 was not “enough”? Do we require another attack before the country will unite and fight against this horrific philosophy whose goal is our destruction and enslavement? I pray not.

We are in an existential fight. To quit, or undermine our will to fight, is the end of all things.

There is right, and there is wrong; there is evil and there is good. Our country G-d bless her has the finest government ever conceived, and blessed by our brave men and women who protect our way of life and guided by the brave and selfless of ‘76, of ‘12, of ‘61, of ‘18, of ‘41, of ‘65 and now in 2008 we have our path, we have our heroes, we have our cause. G-d help us all.

Because so many cannot see evil does not mean that it does not exist; because so many cannot see the greatness in their own country does not mean it is not great. Happy 4th of July, and G-d Bless America.

A Bit of Gold Tumbles from Between the Covers

Introduced by Daniel Mallock

Stephen Vincent Benet’s John Brown’s Body is one of the finest books of prose poetry in American literature. It well-deservedly won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1929. It has always had a special place in the hearts of most Civil War students, and those who appreciate the Blue and Gray. Benet died young, but was prolific and busy publishing often.

Long considered one of the finest biographies in Civil War literature, Douglas Southall Freeman’s R.E. Lee is still considered the finest biography of Lee, one of our greatest Americans. I was unaware that Benet and Freeman and their work ever overlapped but it is right and good that they did.

I had the great fortune recently to purchase a 1st edition set of R.E. Lee by Douglas Southall Freeman. I’ve always wanted to read this biography, but never blocked out the time much to my ongoing frustration. Now, that frustration can end. The set has some water damage on the covers, so it has little value to collectors but its value to me is enormous. Freeman won the Pulitzer prize for biography for this monumental work in 1935. Many years ago, I read Freeman’s Lee’s Lieutenants. R.E. Lee was always beckoning me.

As I examined my newly acquired set I was amazed to see that the seller had included a special gift for me. This gift I will soon pass along to you.

Out from in between the front covers of the first volume fell the original newspaper clipping, neatly folded of Stephen Vincent Benet’s review of the first two volumes of Freeman’s R.E. Lee. This review appeared in the New York Herald Tribune, Book Section, Sunday, October 14, 1934, the year that the first two volumes were published. My delight at reading this previously unknown, to me, review by Benet was obvious from my smiles and “wows” as I read the fragile paper. What a great thing for the fellow who sold me this set to do! My surprise at finding an important review I never knew existed was matched in large part by the appreciation I felt for the kind person who left it there in Volume 1 for me to find. I’ve since done a search on the internet for this review and have not been able to find it anywhere. I suspect that it is not posted on the internet at all. But it is now.

Benet is not shy about heaping praise on Freeman for this biography of Lee. Rarely, a review will surpass the utilitarian and step into the realm of art - as Benet’s does. Clearly, Benet was very happy to read this excellent biography it’s quite obvious. Benet says, that in this biography, “Lee is all there”, and that certainly is high praise for any biographer. Freeman’s Lee set the standard for Lee scholarship and has to my knowledge not yet been surpassed.

Benet writes that Washington and Lee are the two greatest Americans. He respects Lincoln and Grant, and many others but Lee and Washington are clearly, for Benet, in a pantheon all their own. After reading Freeman’s Lee, the first two volumes, at that point, Benet makes a plea that Freeman must now write a biography of Washington to match the Lee study. Bowing to Benet, in a sense, Freeman did just that.

Freeman would win his second Pulitzer for biography (posthumously, in 1958) for his 7-volume biography of George Washington.

I transcribed this myself. If you find any errors, or bad syntax please blame me and not Mr. Benet. I do not believe that this review is currently available online, and I post it as a service to everyone who loves literature, and Lee, and the great heroes of our Civil War on both sides. This is a beautiful review of a fantastic biography. I know you will enjoy this as much as I have.

-Daniel Mallock

New York Herald Tribune, Book Section, Sunday, October 14, 1934

Robert E. Lee: a Great American Biography
The Whole Man–Boyhood, West Point, Mexico, and the Civil War

R.E. Lee

By Douglas Southall Freeman…Illustrated.. Vol. I., 647 pp; vol. II, 621 pp… New York Charles Scribner’s Sons… 2 vols., $7.50Reviewed by Stephen Vincent Benet

It may seem odd, at first, that we should have had to wait so long for a life of Lee like this one, but, when one thinks it over, it is not so odd after all. Certain great men attract biography from the first, others, equally famous, for years attract only biographers. Learned biographers, enthusiastic or caustic biographers, but biographers who do not get to the roots of the man. Nor is it merely a question of luck or celebrity – though luck enters into the matter. Certain names, certain stories are always explosive material. It is easy enough to write a bad life of Napoleon but it is extremely hard to write a thoroughly and conscientiously dull one – though Sir Walter Scott, of all people, worked notably hard at it. Conspicuous rascality in the subject is not enough; there have been tiresome rascals. Virtue is not enough– there can be no question as to which was the more admirable human being in almost every ordinary relation of life, Byron or Southey. Yet there will be biographies of Byron till the world runs out of ink, while biographies of Southey sleep soundly in great public libraries. Literary genious in the biographer is not, by itself, enough – as witness Charles Dickens and the “Life of Our Lord.”

For true biography is a very difficult art. And it is curious that, in our short history as a nation, two of our greatest figures – Washington and Lee – should have been such difficult subjects for true biography. We have almost every possible view of Washington, from Parson Weems to W. E. Woodward. We have views of his that show him as an impossible demigod and views of him that seem to concentrate almost entirely on his false teeth. And yet, in spite of much interesting work, we still have no life of Washington as full, as just, as sound, as comprehending, and yet as readable as many of us would like.

Mere reverence is not enough, for reverence, by itself, quickly turns men into marble statues a little over life—size. Nor is the Stracheyesque method–which produces brilliant results with the proper material–adapted to them. I remember one life of General Grant from which the chief psychological fact I garnered was that the general was deeply in love with his horse. That is interesting, if true, but it hardly explains the capture of Fort Donelson. And it is easy enough to paint George Washington as an ordinary Virginia planter of limited capacities–until you begin to explain why all the other Virginia planters did not turn into Washingtons.

Dr. Freeman, fortunately for us all, is a true biographer. He has a great subject to deal with–which is to his advantage–but the subject, as I have said, is not an easy one. The man’s life, and himself, are, in one sense, like a marble shaft; you may look in vain for the disfiguring–and interesting–cracks and crevices that spot the characters of many great men. A hero, born in obscurity, who fights his way up to greatness–there is an easy story for you! But Lee was born at Stratford, of the blood of “King” Carter and “Light Horse Harry” Lee. We like to read of the awkward, ugly duckling, the butt of his mates at school and college, who became their master in the end. But Lee was one of the handsomest men of his day, and at West Point he graduated second in his class. In childhood he had the weight of a great tradition behind him; in youth and manhood he fulfilled the full promise of that tradition. When Lincoln was a disappointed ex-Congressman, his political future, apparently, at a dead end, Lee was winning notable distinction in his chosen field. When Grant was still the failure of Galena, Lee was being sounded out as to the commander-ship-in-chief of the whole Union Army. No breath of romantic scandal ever touched his private life; he became the idol of a people and the symbol of a cause without ever losing his simplicity; even his religion, simple, natural and profound, has nothing of the Cromwellian tang of Jackson’s. It did not torment his soul, it gave his soul peace. A good man, a great man, one of our finest human beings. You are right. But a difficult man to depict and yet keep human, for the rest of us. Let us see what Dr. Freeman has done with his material.

In the first place, he shows us from the very first lines of his forward the thoroughness, the patience, the honesty and the true gift for research which are the rare marks of the real biographer.

He has winnowed, and winnowed away an enormous mass of legend. He has collected and set down for the first time in print a vast number of new, precise and salient facts. He has woven together a thousand strands of testimony from the words of forgotten reports to the words on the lips of old men remembering their great youth. In Dr. Freeman’s two volumes we get for the first time the complete, slow growth of a man. The unregarded years–the years of youth and early manhood, the years before the Mexican War and after it, are filled in with completeness and patience for the first time. We see not only Lee the star cadet or Lee the Mars’ Robert of the tales, but Lee at thirty-one on an Ohio River steamer enjoying little roast pigs and sausages but looking with a dubious eye on the crowding and squeezing at the table; Lee building a house of twigs for seven military hens at a desolate army outpost near the fork of the Brazos; Lee, the conscientious but somewhat baffled inheritor of a historic but land-poor estate, wondering how to keep it up on an Army colonel’s pay–a dozen Lees, younger and older, whom the well known stories leave out. We see Lee the military organizer; we even see Lee in a temper.

But thoroughness and patience are not enough. A scholar may be very thorough and very patient and yet remain a scholar read only by scholars. There must be proportion, balance, composition; most of all, vitality in the work itself. Dr. Freeman’s style is not a showy one, and he does not go in for the purple passages. But every one of the 1,200 pages is intensely readable from the first page to the last. He is readable when he describes the Battle of Chancellorsville; he is readable when he describes the education of a West Point cadet in the 1820s or the technical details of the building of an obscure fort by an Army engineer. He has a positive genius for quotation–it is always the live quotation, not the dead one, that appears in his pages–and always at the point where it simplifies, explains, elucidates, gives life and color to the whole. He never points out the obvious; he never grows windy or pedantic. When he gives you an opinion on a disputed point he gives you his reasons as well. “There they are,” he seems to say, “to the best of my judgment. My conclusion is this–you may draw another if you disagree with me. But here are the facts, as far as they can be known.”

If I had sufficient space, I should very much like to quote his brief sketch of Anne Carter Lee, Lee’s mother, on pages 87 seq. It consists of a short appraisal and the only two known surviving letters of Mrs. Lee. The appraisal is short enough. It tells what is known of Anne Carter Lee; it does not tell what is not known. And it is a model to biographers. There is no one fact and twenty barrels of conjecture. There is no “As she did this, she must have done that.” There is a human being there, faintly outlined, because the written evidence is slight; but the outlines, though faint, are definite. There is a real and living woman, not a fictional character or a reverential image. I, for one, never knew her before.

As it is with Anne Carter Lee, so it is with the whole of the story. Slowly, on the firmest of foundations, there builds up the full picture of the man. And it is not the story of Fortunatus–of a silver-spoon youth who marched easily from conquest to conquest. It is something, indeed, to have been born at Stratford, of the Lees and Carters–but to have to leave Stratford at three, because the sheriff’s men are in the house, the horses sold, the furniture attached–that is something, too. One’s father is a revolutionary hero–and that is a great tradition–but one’s father has been twice imprisoned for debt and is to die on the way home from a self-imposed exile. One’s half-brother, “Black Horse Harry” Lee’s career is to be wrecked by tragedy and scandal. A background of great traditions? Very true–but there are other colors in the background than gold.

All through the life, the threads in the web are mixed ones. When Lee married Mary Custis he married a delightful woman but a temperamental one–and a woman who was to become an invalid, needing and invalid’s care. And, when he married her, as Dr. Freeman points out, he married Arlington as well–Arlington with its name, its heavy responsibilities and the great shadow of Washington brooding over it. Dr. Freeman’s analysis of the influence of the Washington tradition on the character of Lee is subtle, convincing and profound. Throughout the book, indeed, his study of the gradual development of Lee’s character is masterly. It has the fascination of a detective story and the inevitability of the growth of a tree.

Certain traits were there from the first and they were fine ones. But the gay, brilliant, teasing Lee of the twenties, the Lee who wrote amusing mock love letters to pleasant girl acquaintances in the Southern tradition of beaudom, had become, at fifty-four, a very different man. Throughout those first fifty-four years there is always upon him–and we see it and feel it–a continuous pressure of responsibility, never slackening, slowly increasing; responsibility for his name, for Arlington, for his work, for his wife, and children, for the men under his command. Except for the Mexican War, it was not a dramatic responsibility, in the usual sense. But a weaker man would have broken under it, and a man [of] a nature less naturally sweet become crotchety, like many another army officer who turned to drink or lethargy to while away the tedium of dull courts martial in Godforsaken frontier posts.

I have stressed Dr. Freeman’s dealings with Lee’s early years because they are the essential foundation on which all true knowledge of Lee must be built. When Lee assumed command of the forces of Virginia he was fifty-four and the main lines of his character were formed. He grew after that, be he grew along those lines, not contrary to them. Where many biographers are content to show effects, Dr. Freeman shows us the causes of those effects–and he does it so well and so thoroughly that by the time we come to the Civil War we have a real knowledge of Lee, not a set of phrases about him, and a real ability to know what Lee may do in a given circumstance. Dr. Freeman shows also–and this is invaluable–on the military side, exactly what experience of war and the conduct of war Lee had had, the sort of strategy and tactics that were likely to appeal to him, both his practical knowledge and the bent of his mind. I have never seen this done so clearly and so well.

There were weaknesses as well as strengths in both Lee’s temperament and Lee’s training–Dr. Freeman shows them both unfalteringly. The first untrained Virginia volunteers were a very different from Scott’s Mexican army–and Lee made mistakes in the West Virginia campaign. Dr. Freeman shows us what the mistakes were and what Lee learned from them. A courteous amiability, in dealing with subordinates, was likely to develop, with an obstinate subordinate, into failure of execution at a critical moment–as it did with Longstreet at Gettysburg–Dr. Freeman shows us the cloud at its beginning, no bigger than a man’s hand. Indeed, for all Dr. Freeman’s practical delineation of the campaigns up to and through Chancellorsville (with which these two volumes end) I can only have the most unstinted praise. With their excellent, clear and numerous maps, they should prove invaluable to all students of military history. And to the average reader they are perfectly fascinating.

For Dr. Freeman, in describing them, has taken a novel point of view. The reader is always with Lee, at Confederate headquarters, in possession of such knowledge as Lee has but no more. In other words, the battles develop before us as battles do to a general who is fighting one, with all their momentary chances. Excellent schemes go astray because of unknown factors–the “fog of war” is over the field, not swept away by after–knowledge. And the battles and campaigns are real. Behind the charges and the yells there is always the constant, wearing question of food and shoes and horses, of men who come down with measles and men who cannot march on the hard roads of Maryland because their feet are sore. All this is a constant reminder of warfare, but it does not always get into the histories. It is continually present in Dr. Freeman’s. And we know not only Lee, by the time we have reached Chancellorsville–we know the Army of Northern Virginia as well.

In any account of the events in the Civil War, the historian or biographer must strike upon a number of moot points. Dr. Freeman, as Lee’s biographer, inclines, very naturally, to cast his vote for Lee, on most of these points. But he never does so without giving full reasons for his statements. His explanation of Jackson’s lethargy during the Seven Days is clear, well reasoned and convincing–and his account of the genesis of the turning–movement at Chancellorsville seems to me a little miracle of reconstruction. On the other hand, for the average reader, I think he might have stressed, even more than he does, Jackson’s personal brilliance in the Valley Campaign. It is one thing to tell a general you would like a certain enemy beaten, if possible, and quite another to have the general do it–as Lincoln, to his sorrow, very often found. Nor is it my opinion that the reader who is unversed in the Civil War will form an utterly correct estimate of the military abilities of Joe Johnston, from Dr. Freeman’s account of him in these two volumes. Johnston was an unlucky general, in many ways, but the most competent testimony, including that of great adversaries, pronounced him a master of craft.

These are small criticisms on a monumental work, but, while I am about it, I will make one or two more. Dr. Freeman deals with John Brown and Harper’s Ferry entirely from the viewpoint of Lee and he is perfectly justified in doing so. But John Brown was not exactly an ordinary disturber of the peace nor was the raid on Harper’s Ferry precisely a riot. And the actual confrontation of Robert E. Lee and John Brown happens to be one of the great dramatic coincidences of history. I think Dr. Freeman could have made more of this than he has done without sacrificing truth to false picturesqeuness. If Lee dismissed Brown as a mere madman–as the testimony would indicate–that, too, shows something about Lee and about the South.

Jackson, Stuart, Longstreet, Magruder, Hood are vividly portrayed, but one might wish for a little fuller physical description of the two Hills, Ewell, Alexander and some of the other Southern leaders. They appear in their words and actions–and admirably–but the readers of an Iliad like to know the faces and armor of all the chiefs. The same might be said of the Northern commanders opposed to Lee. It does not fall directly within Dr. Freeman’s province to describe them, except as they showed themselves in action–but a brief, well-placed footnote on each, showing what sort of man he was, would assist the casual reader. Another, and somewhat vaguer criticism, is this. The heart of the Northern resistance was a man named Abraham Lincoln. Dr. Freeman is writing a life of Lee, not a life of Lincoln. Nevertheless, it seems to me that Lincoln’s presence should somewhere, somehow be felt by the reader–not as the amateur strategist recalling troops for the safety of Washington but as the soul of the o’her Cause. However, there is room for all this, and more, in the next two volumes.

Dr. Freeman is kinder to Davis than some Southern historians have been, and, I think, juster. In his dealing with Northern “atrocities” (the term is not his) he seems to me, now and then, a trifle biased. War is a dirty game, no matter how played. I remember an old man, with passion and indignation in his voice, showing me the marks of Confederate shell on the walls of my mother’s town. And he was as right–and as partisan–as Dr. Freeman. There is little of this in the book, very little, but as it struck me, I mention it. On the larger issues, he states his own feelings admirably in his Foreword–and they are without illusion.

The present two volumes begin with Stratford and end just after Chancellorsville. There are two more to come. One can ask no more of them than they should equal the two already in print. For those two already comprise by far the best biography of Lee of which I have any knowledge. And when I speak of a biography, I do not mean merely a work for research students and Civil War enthusiasts. The whole man is here, as he lived–Stratford–West Point–Arlington–Mexico–the heights of Cerro Gordo and the swamps of the Chickahominy. He is here, in war and in peace. He is writing a letter to somewhat stilted, anxious advice to his children on how to be good boys–and, at Chancellorsville, his is hearing “that shrill, sustained cry like a thousand men calling the dogs to a fox hunt” that was the rebel yell. And behind him is a tradition, an army, a time and a people–all as it was and not otherwise. Dr. Freeman has worked nearly twenty years on these volumes. And for those years, we are all of us in his debt. For he has revivified for us, lastingly and surely, one of the largest figures of our national past. It is a superb achievement. I do not know how Pulitzer prizes are awarded but I should be in favor of giving at least ten of them to Dr. Freeman. And then, if I were dictator, I would have him chained to a desk and make him spend his next twenty years writing a life of Washington whether he wants to or not.

The Responsibility of Command - John Bell Hood and the Nashville Campaign with the John Bell Hood Society

by Daniel Mallock

There is no question that John Bell Hood is one of the great tragic heroes of the Civil War. His story is full of pain, frustration, victories and defeats, advances and finally retreats. A hero at Gettysburg, Antietam, Chickamauga, Gaines Mill, and other hard fought fields Hood was promoted to command the Army of Tennessee in July, 1864 as Joe Johnston’s strategic withdrawal strategy and refusal to work with Jefferson Davis finally got him removed from command.

Hood’s short but monumental career as commander of the Army of Tennessee is covered in violence and controversy with the culmination of both at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864. Besmirched in modern Civil War history by the slanted and agenda-laden approach of Wiley Sword’s “Confederacy’s Last Hurrah” General Hood’s reputation has suffered intensely in recent years. It is time for a re-examination of General Hood’s career, and most particularly the nature of the decisions that were made at Spring Hill, Franklin, and Nashville by General Hood.

There is a small but intense group of defenders of the truth, historians and students who search for the truth about Hood. It was my pleasure and privilege to tour Spring Hill and Franklin with them and my entire family with kids in tow this weekend. They are the John Bell Hood Society ably led by Sam Hood, a true defender of Hood and a true historian. Walking the ground is the only way to really understand a battle and to understand the decisions that were made based on terrain, local conditions, etc. Reading the records and memoirs is a start, but real understanding can only come when the ground is seen, the killing ground over which the blue and gray heroes fought at Franklin, Spring Hill and Nashville.

With a ruined arm from Gettysburg and a lost leg at Chickamauga, John Bell Hood is an unlikely army commander. But so it was, and under the command of Hood (unfortunately for him), the fortunes of the Confederacy in the western theatre came to a painful end under his tenure and leadership.

It has been said that the battle of Nashville was the only true decisive victory of the War. This may be so as due to losses of the campaign culminating in the battle of Nashville, the Army of Tennessee was no longer a feared army or formidable fighting force afterwards. Yes, there would be Bentonville later, and Joe Johnston would again be in command to oversee a bitter victory followed by a bitter surrender. But the Army of Tennessee was shattered at Franklin then crushed at Nashville. Bentonville saw an amalgamated Army very different from the army that crossed the Tennessee River in November, 1864 to free Nashville and assail Louisville and even Cincinnati.

General Schofield of the Union army says as much in his memoirs as does George Thomas - that the Army of Tennessee was shattered during the Tennessee Campaign and was no longer feared afterwards. It was still respected, but it could readily be dealt with - the Army of Tennessee would no longer command the ability to shift the balance of the war - anywhere.

But two weeks before Nashville there was Franklin - an astoundingly brutal battle even by Civil War standards. The violence at Franklin is on a par with few if any battles in that War and most all of its survivors have ranked it as likely the very worst experience of their entire lives. Franklin happened because General Hood gave one order: “We will make the fight.”

The origins of this order, the options that he had, the high cost of the order itself and the incredible bravery of the men on both side who fought at Franklin were discussed this weekend on a tour of Franklin and Spring Hill that my family and I (yes, including wife and kids!) were fortunate and honored to have enjoyed. Sponsored by the John Bell Hood Society, this tour was thorough, fascinating, and educational. Hood has not recently received such a fair hearing as he got on this tour.

Before the bitter fighting at Franklin there was Spring Hill. Some 18 miles south of Franklin this small town could have been the site of one of the greatest victories of Southern arms in the entire War. But due to confusion of orders and difficult terrain a masterful flanking and envelopment movement directed by General Hood came to not with the following day being the battle of Franklin. The frustration that the failure to bag Schofield and his army at Spring Hill created in the Confederate army cannot be overstated. To understand Franklin, one must understand the events of the previous day at Spring Hill. It has been described variously as the greatest error, controversy, and lost opportunity of the War. There is no one more studied on this battle and its maneuvers than Mr. Eric Jacobson. Lucky for me Mr. Jacobson led the tour at Spring Hill and to Winstead Hill- the jumping off point of the great Confederate charge at Franklin.

Eric Jacobson is the lead historian at Carnton Plantation in Franklin. His recent book “For Cause and Country” certainly is the most authoritative study of Spring Hill in print. I recommend this book highly. Eric Jacobson is a superb guide- he is engaging, thoroughly knowledgeable of the terrain, the battle and the campaign. Spring Hill is one of the most confusing engagements/battles of the War. Mr. Jacobson’s explanations make it all come into focus. Standing on the hilltop nearby to the Columbia Pike it becomes clear how the entire Union army under Schofield (some 25 thousand men with horses, mules, wagons, artillery, etc.) could walk literally under the very noses of the Confederate army in the darkness of November 29, 1864. As Mr. Jacobson mentioned in passing, one cannot really understand Spring Hill without actually traversing the ground. We did. It has always been difficult for me personally to get a great feel for the ground and the events that happened at Spring Hill on the 29th of November, 1864. Now I “get it”- thanks to Mr. Jacobson.

Moving on from Spring Hill we made our way to Carnton and the Carter House. Carnton is lovely and haunting. Four CSA generals were laid out in death on its outside porch. Hundreds of Confederate soldiers were there suffering and dying as the MacGavock family cared for the wounded in their home and on their property. Blood stains from wounded Confederate soldiers still can be seen in the wood floors of the home. The horrific conditions there after the battle have been documented and written about but can truly only be imagined. Seeing the blood stains and hearing of the sufferings of everyone there, one can begin to see it.

There is a clock in the main parlor at Carnton that was there during the battle and after. We all fell silent and listened to the clock ticking just as it did that day as men suffered and died within hearing distance of it. It was a special moment, and can transport one to the past if one allows oneself to imagine it all - all the misery and horror of it. The appalling sites and events that occurred at Carnton around that clock that we heard ticking can only be imagined and all with a shudder.

After Carnton we made our way to the Carter House where David Fraley the chief Military Historian there gave an excellent tour starting in the yard where hundreds of Union and Confederate soldiers fought in ugly bloody hand to hand combat on November 30, 1864 there on the Carter property. Mr. Fraley has a wealth of knowledge of the people who fought at Franklin on both sides, the tactics and military issues involved and the very high cost to all involved that the battle exacted. Touring the house which was Union General Jacob Cox’ headquarters during the battle is to be transported back in time a bit.

Still covered in bullet holes and battle damage the Carter House at Franklin is one of the most historically significant homes in the entire United States. Standing in the yard one can almost imagine the brutal combat that took place there. It’s hallowed ground and a very special place that every Civil War student and every American should visit. There may be no place in the country where combat more vicious and brutal occured.

The charge of the Confederate Army of Tennessee that opened this brutal battle was double the distance of Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg; had more participants, and was not preceded by artillery as the brave men at Gettysburg were. The events at Franklin are off the charts of grandness, brutality, violence, bravery, etc. And how lucky to have had a tour of the area by Mr. Fraley.

Decisions made at Franklin and Spring Hill by General Hood and then at Franklin and Nashville that would lead to the almost complete destruction of the Army of Tennessee have been analyzed often. Mr. Sword’s book on the subject has skewed the debate against the General unfairly. It is time to approach this battle and the entire Tennessee Campaign not from sadness and anger at the resulting brutality and apparently avoidable losses but more from an objective perspective whose only purpose is to determine the truth. This is certainly the historian’s duty.

There are no greater seekers of the truth about General Hood than the John Bell Hood Historical Society. Mr. Sword’s book “Confederacy’s Last Hurrah” is not the final word on these battles and the Tennessee campaign of 1864. It is important to give General Hood a fair hearing and to understand his motives, his abilities, his mood and thoughts during those difficult times of decision in middle Tennessee.

(Photo of Brigadier General John C. Carter’s grave, Columbia, TN. Mortally wounded at Franklin, Carter would die ten days later [the General is not a relative of the Carter House Carter Family]. Not believing that he was to die, and ignoring the assurances of doctors that he was mortally wounded and could not survive, General Carter would ask for his wife repeatedly. His grave would be unmarked for over 50 years. Photo of General Carter courtesy of Generals and Brevets.)

General Hood is a tragic hero who suffered greatly for his country. “He did the best he could under the circumstances” was heard often during this event. And it is so. I think that he did. While I disagree with some of the decisions that he made and wish that he hadn’t made them, I wasn’t on Winstead Hill as the sunlight was dimming on November 30, 1864; I didn’t marching down country backroads in the dark at Spring Hill the previous day.

However, men’s lives are not to be thrown away in order to do “something” rather than nothing. The commander has a responsibility to take calculated, reasonable risks. The attack at Franklin was contrary to all understood military theory and planning. It is difficult for an objective historian to defend the attack at Franklin as ordered by Hood. Frank Cheatham, Corp commander of the Army of Tennessee said to a Union survivor after the War that had Wagner’s two divisions not been in his advanced exposed position south of the Carter House, Schofield’s army would likely have killed everyone in the Army of Tennessee.

The battle of Franklin was a savage affair that was not pre-ordained nor determined by circumstances as some historians and defenders of General Hood have suggested. It occurred because Hood gave the order to advance - despite reasonable objections based upon sound judgments and reconnaissance by his subordinates particularly Cleburne and Forrest. These men are no longer alive to give explanations as to why they made their decisions. This is one of the reasons why historians exist.

General Hood will always be held accountable for his decision to attack at Franklin then to move forward to Nashville despite the heavy losses for not at Franklin. The devastating costs of both battles demand attention and explanation. Only the students and the historians can begin to understand how these nightmare battles came to be, as the commanders and the soldiers are gone now so long ago. There is no inevitablity about Franklin’s frontal assault or the advance to Nashville in my opinion. General Hood as the commander of the Army of Tennessee had the responsibility and privilege to make the momentous decisions during the campaign. The lives of his men are literally in his hands. Because the campaign failed and because so many lives were lost as a result of it, General Hood must be understood and held accountable by history for the decisions that he made. All men and women who make momentous decisions are thus held to account by history. This is no disservice to the General commanding but a duty accepted by the true student and historian.

The Union lines (three of them) at Franklin were fully manned and fully covered by artillery and were complete, so said Cleburne. The Union main line could be flanked if the requisite manpower were provided, so said Forrest. If Forrest can get across the Harpeth so can infantry - if Forrest asks for two hours to flank the position when the alternative is a potentially suicidal frontal assault without artillery support then Forrest should be given his chance. If Fort Granger is mounted with artillery it must be attacked or flanked and the divisions supporting it. Truly, had Forrest’s attack been fully backed with a complete compliment of cavalry and the additional division of infantry as requested by Forrest, Wilson well could have been driven back and defeated. This issue is worthy of more posts and articles and even a book. Dismissal of Forrest’s flank attack is not reasonable particularly by suggesting that the Harpeth was running too high to get infantry across. Forrest had a ford and got his horseman across, he would have got infantry and guns across too had he been given the opportunity.

But Hood would not wait, it was a race against time for him - and he must be held accountable as the results were so utterly devastating - even for him. After the battle of Franklin he sat on his horse viewing the carnage and loss and cried… anybody with a heart would do the same. Yes, he was concerned that Schofield would escape him again just as he had slipped the trap the previous evening at Spring Hill, but this is not justification for ordering a frontal advance unsupported by artillery and with the cavalry main force across the river. This race against time concept causes men to make rash decisions and ignore good council. There are options, even in war and even 18 miles south of Nashville. An army destroyed in a risky adventure is not likely to fight well or at all the following day.

For Hood, the advance to Nashville was little more than an act of honor and psychology as he knew, and essentially stated so in his memoirs, that little could be done at Nashville after the horrors and losses of Franklin. These decisions must be understood in their context. This is not a matter of excoriating anyone or of criticizing unnecessarily men facing the most extreme stress possible, it is rather about the need and desire to really understand what happened. This is what history is all about.

Great history is not about analyzing events with modern eyes it is best done when we can put ourselves “in the shoes” of the people involved. Understanding best comes when we can learn what the people involved understood - history with 20:20 hindsight isn’t real.

For analysis we should include everything we learned after the events… but for true understanding we need to in some way, as best we can, become the actor himself/herself and use the information that they had available to them (and perhaps much that they did not) to try as best we can to come to understand why decisions were made and how events came to occur. This is an honest approach to history - as honest as perhaps we can be - and removes our biases and prisms and agendas as much as possible.

It is important for Civil War students and those interested in these important events to try their best to understand General Hood. He has been dealt with unfairly by recent historians, most particularly Mr. Sword. The John Bell Hood Society and Mr. Sam Hood are leading the way in correcting the errors of some historians and showing those interested in our nation’s history that John Bell Hood was not perfect but was a hero nonetheless.

(Several photos courtesy of Mr. Graeme Goetz)

Compassion and Chivalry in War: Civil War and WW2

Introduced by Daniel Mallock

The horror, violence, and cruelty of war is occasionally interrupted by deeds of extreme humanitarian bravery and compassion. When these stories are shared, they raise the hairs on the back of one’s neck, and can bring one to tears.

In particular when men show compassion to their enemies it tends to reawaken the soul and remind one that in the midst of war and bloodshed and cruelty, the human heart - the foundation of civilization - is still alive and still motivates men to do deeds of valor for those they would otherwise destroy.

The Civil War is rife with such stories. Three come to mind: First, the selfless bravery and compassion of Sergeant Kirkland at Fredricksburg who will forever be remembered as the “Angel of Mayre’s Heights”. Risking his life to bring water to his wounded foes in blue, Confederate Sgt. Kirkland showed everyone there and thereafter that compassion did not die in the War.

Confederate Lt. James Graves has a special yet largely unknown place in Civil War history. After the Battle of Glasgow, Missouri, late in October of 1864 Lt. Graves was commanding a detachment of Confederate Cavalry escorting Union prisoners to a place of parole. Graves had some 50 mounted men with him to escort the approximately 25 Union officer prisoners in his charge.

He was soon challenged by Bloody Bill Anderson, the notorious bushwhacker and murderer of Centralia infamy. Anderson demanded that Graves surrender the Union officers to him and his men. It was clear that Anderson was planning to kill the Federals. Graves refused.

What happened next is one of the most astounding and special events of the entire War. Graves approached the Union prisoners and told them that Anderson, who they all knew for the cruel man that he was, had demanded them, and that Graves had refused. He informed the Union men that he would fight Anderson and his men, who Graves considered outlaws, rather than surrender his Union escort.

Graves gave the men in blue weapons and a Union flag. The Confederate cavalry escort and the Union officers formed a line of battle together and faced Anderson’s 300. As they advanced, the bushwhackers withdrew, and the Union men were delivered safely to their destination. Never before or since had Union and Confederate soldiers been in line of battle together.

Documentation regarding this event is available in the Official Records and elsewhere though it is scant and difficult to locate. A medal was struck after the War and presented to Graves by these Union officers. Graves traveled from the South to St. Louis to accept this, from what I understand to be, astonishingly beautiful medal.

Someday soon I hope that this superb and very important story will be told in its entirety so that the entire country can learn of the special qualities of our Civil War soldiers of both sides. Most importantly in this time of political division, war, and the ongoing threat of terror it is important for all Americans to see that our history has superb examples of cooperation, compassion, bravery, and a central unifying idea of what is right and what is so very wrong. Identifying a direct threat to both his own command and his escort of enemy officers, Graves defended them rather than walk away and give them up to be killed. This astonishing act of bravery and thoughtfulness is largely unknown, but it deserves a much wider audience.

Another superb example of Civil War compassion under fire comes from Kennesaw Mountain, June 27, 1864:

“It was during this battle that one of the noblest deeds of humanity was performed. Colonel W. H. Martin of the First Arkansas of Cleburne’s division seeing the woods in front of him on fire and burning the wounded Federals, tied a handkerchief to a ramrod and1 amidst the danger of battle mounted the parapet and shouted to the enemy: “We wont fire a gun till you get them away. Be quick.” And with his own men he leaped over our works and helped to remove them. When this was done, a Federal major was so imprssed’ by such magnanimity that he pulled from his belt a brace of fine pistols and presented them to Colonel Martin with
the remark,

“Accept them with my appreciation of the nobility of this deed.”

(Battles and Sketches of the Army of Tennessee, B.L. Ridley, 1906, p319)

Our Civil War seems to have many such stories of compassion and care that one side showed to the other. In fact, an excellent book was written recently on this subject, and I recommend it: My Brother’s Keeper: Union and Confederate Soldiers’ Acts of Mercy During the Civil War by Daniel Rolph (Stackpole, 2002).

WW2 may have similar numbers of stories of compassion and mercy between enemies, but they seem few and far between.

I was sent an email by a friend the other day that I would like to share with you. It originated from a North Carolina shop’s Web Site (Classic Arms) to which I give credit and appreciation here.

I present this story in it’s entirety, and unedited. It is a special thing, and I hope that you will be as affected by it as I was. It is comforting to know that in the middle of the horrific brutality that was the Civil War and WW2 there were warriors on all sides who retained their sense of humanity and compassion and were able to see, if only for a short moment, a brief yet very important moment, that those on the other side were human just like them, and deserving of something better than death. More importantly still, these heroes were brave enough to risk their own lives to help their fellow men even in the midst of mortal combat.

-Daniel Mallock

Chivalry In The Air
As told by Jim Brodie
For Military Appreciation Day
Florida House of Representatives
April 19, 2007

I would like to tell you a story.

A true story of Chivalry, Gallantry, Courage and Compassion.

I hope you will enjoy it and share it with the special people in your life.

At Dawn on the morning of December 20, 1943, American Army Lieutenant Charlie Brown piloted his B-17 bomber into formation and joined nearly 400 others from the 8th Air Force in England to bomb a German fighter factory in Bremen. It was his first mission as pilot in command of this 30 ton 4 engine heavy.

Charlie was 21 years old. His crew of ten were all in their late teens and early twenties. They had worked together and they had trained together…they were more than a crew… they were a team.

The bomber stream crossed the North Sea with American P-47 fighters as escorts. The fighters would stay with them for as long as they had range. But when the fighters turned back to refuel the bombers were on their own.

As they crossed the German coast they were attacked by defending ME 109 fighters.

The Messerschmitt ME 109 fighter was a world class, single engine aircraft, …fast, maneuverable and deadly … armed with machine guns and cannon. The two forces clashed and fought all the way to the outskirts of Bremen. During the action Charlie’s bomber sustained numerous hits wounding several of the crew and knocking out one engine. They were able to stay with the formation but as they approached the target, German anti-aircraft guns opened up. Charlie’s plane was hit again, destroying the Plexiglas nose and wounding the bombardier.

They could have turned back,
they should have turned back
but that’s not what THIS crew was all about.

They stayed with the mission and dropped their bombs directly on the target.

They were unable to keep up with the formation as it turned back toward England.

Alone as a straggler they were an easy target. Once again the German fighters attacked. Machine gun and cannon fire tore through the airplane.

The American gunners fought back bravely …all 10 machine guns blazing. Charlie flying his bomber directly into the oncoming Germans as if it were a fighter, employing tactics no bomber was built for.

The one sided battle lasted far longer than anyone could have expected, one German fighter destroyed, another probable…but the flying fortress and the crew were being shredded…Charlie was hit in the right arm.

At 25 thousand feet the controls of a second engine were shot away and the bomber’s oxygen supply was destroyed. Without oxygen the crew and pilot lost consciousness and the bomber spiraled toward earth 5 miles below.

The Germans scored it as another kill and raced off after the main bomber formation. Charlie’s B-17 continued its lumbering death spiral.
Miraculously the out of control bomber was spiraling slowly enough that the pilot regained consciousness in time to get control of the airplane and leveled off at 150 feet.

Charlie ordered his co-pilot to prepare the crew to bail out if he could get enough altitude for the parachutes to open. The co-pilot came back and told him of the dead and wounded crew and the horribly damaged airplane. They were in no condition to bail out.

Charlie replied, “that’s okay, I can’t get any altitude anyway”,…throw everything overboard to lighten the load”…parachutes, life rafts, machine guns. A third engine was now acting up.

As they flew, their course took them, unknowingly, over a Luftwaffe fighter base.

On the ground German fighter Ace, Lt. Franz Stigler was having his Messerschmitt fighter re-armed and re-fueled. He had already shot down two of the American bombers that morning adding to his long list of what would be 28 aerial victories.

He could not believe his luck, here was another target and he went off to bag number three for the day which would surely earn him the Knight’s Cross presented by the Furher himself!

As Franz sped toward his target his experience told him to do it just right, even though this American was alone and a straggler, he had been shot down by B17’s before and he had the wounds to show for it.

As he approached from the rear Franz noticed how low and how strangely the bomber was flying. The closer he got the more amazed he was that it was flying at all.

It was terribly shot up. He determined he would get as close as possible…..his 30 mm cannon and machine guns ready…..his finger on the trigger. As soon as the tail gunner would raise his guns Franz would blow them out of the sky and go home a hero….once again.

Closer….still closer….yet, no reaction from the crippled bomber. The much faster fighter flew by in a wide arc without firing. Franz noticed the tail gunner was dead… blood was everywhere.

He saw the courageous American crew struggling to save their comrades and a valiant young pilot trying to keep his airplane flying.

As the German fighter passed, them the entire crew was horrified. They were helpless; they were doomed…and they knew it…they were all about to die.

The defender of the Reich circled back, still in amazement that this bomber could remain airborne. He approached again and did not fire. This time slowing down enough to fly in formation on Charlie’s right wing.

Charlie, bleeding from his wound looked in horror, could not believe what he was seeing. The two 20 something warriors stared at each other, each other, each taking the measure of the other airman…the planes just a few feet apart.

He signaled Charlie to drop his landing gear, land in Germany and surrender. Charlie, either not understanding, or still groggy, just glared back. He refused to give up his ship on his first mission as pilot in command.

Again, Franz, using hand signals, ordered the American pilot to land and be taken prisoner. Charlie refused.

Franz thought to himself, “I can’t murder this brave but helpless crew and their “cowboy ” pilot, but we are still way inside Germany and if I leave them alone they will be dropped by the next fighter or flak gun”.

So, in an act of great compassion and chivalry and risking facing a firing squad, German Lt. Franz Stigler escorted American Lt. Charlie Brown’s bomber to the North Sea coast. He pointed toward England…then he saluted, said “happy birthday cowboy” rolled his fighter into a hard right turn and headed back to base never to breathe a word of what had happened.

He flew an incredible 480 combat missions… was credited with 28 victories and 40 more probables. He survived bring shot down 17 times.

Charlie and the crew were in total disbelief. This gallant German knight had given them life. They continued across the North Sea, crash landing on the coast of England.

Charlie continued to serve his country throughout the war flying 30 more combat missions over Germany and retired from the Air Force as a Lt. Colonel. He and his crew related their story to the Army brass and were told, “Bury it”, your mission is classified Secret “we are at war, son… there are no gallant Germans”. But Charlie and the crew never forgot the chivalrous airman who gave them back their lives.

That should be the end of the story…but it’s not.

Forty five years later in 1988, Charlie attended a reunion of his WWII bomber squadron and told his story. Fifty seven children and grandchildren had been born to the surviving crew of Charlie’s bomber. The press was there and a reprint of the story was eventually published in a German fighter pilot’s magazine.

A year later, in December of 1989, Charlie received a five page type written letter postmarked Surrey, British Columbia. In the letter was a precise description of the air action over Bremen Germany on December, 20 1943…details that only Charlie knew, such as aircraft markings, time of day, precise battle damage and even the wave salute.

Charlie couldn’t believe it; how could this be possible? He was suspicious, but the details were accurate, the same story told from a totally different perspective. He telephoned Canada; for an hour the two spoke; every detailed was described. Charlie and his wife Jackie flew to British Columbia and met Franz and his wife Helga. In the airport in Canada the two old warriors, now in their 70’s, once again came face to face. They stared at each other; fears and memories that had been locked away came rushing back. With tears in their eyes they embraced.

Franz said, “Happy Birthday Cowboy”, for it was December 20th, 1989.

Franz and Charlie have remained friends ever since and have become as close as brothers.

James Patton Anderson and U.S. Grant in the NorthWest

by Daniel Mallock

Events over time that overrun each other, that are inextricably tied together and form a mosaic and tapestry reaching to a certain strange and stunning inevitability are often seen in historical study. In the course of recent research I ran across one of these events and was amazed at its importance. Important events such as these are often known to but a few. But their importance is undiminished.

This story of James Patton Anderson, Confederate General, is little known, I have certainly never seen this case discussed elsewhere. But I’d like to share it with you, as I know you will appreciate it.

Major General James Patton Anderson (1822-1872) was a division Commander in the Army of Tennessee. A man of the “Old South” he was a proud slaveholder and staunch secessionist. At one time the Commander of the District of Florida Anderson was posted to the Army of Tennessee in July, 1864. At Jonesboro Anderson took a very painful wound to the face which is wife believed finally took his life some ten years later.

Noted for his friendship with Leonidas Polk and his strong conservative views, after his surrender at Greensborough, NC Anderson refused to sign the Loyalty Pledge and would thus be prevented from resuming his pre-war legal career. He died in poverty in Memphis, TN. He was a strong Confederate and did not sign the Oath for to do so would have “implied a regret for what he had done & he had none. And if his life was to go over he would do just as he had unless if possible he would be more devoted to the cause,” according to his widow, Etta.

Anderson served as United States marshal of Washington Territory, from 1853 to 1856, and it was there that he had his fateful encounter with US Grant. This period was a particularly low one for Grant. Only with the coming of the Civil War would his prospects turn around. Grant’s short but astonishing meeting with Anderson near a river bank would have consequences that would change the course of American and world history.

The following account was written by General Anderson’s widow Etta and was sent in letter form (1889) to a Mr. Earle with the request that he not disclose the letter’s contents.

“Genls. McClelan [ sic ] (a great favorite with us), Grant, Auger, & many other officers were our friends there; & let me tell you a little thing that for Genl. Grant’s children’s sake will be kept between us. While my husband was taking the census, way up near the Dalles, on the Columbia River, Genl. Grant, then a Lieut. paymaster with the rank of Capt., was suffering from mania_____ [delirium tremens]. Got away from his soldiers. They were all camping on the bank of the river. My husband had Indians with him. The soldiers woke him & told him of Grant’s condition & that he had gone. He woke his Indians, made them understand, & put them on the trail. They tracked him by the pieces of his outside woolen shirt on the bushes; found him crouched down under some bushes ready to plunge into the river hundreds of feet below. One false step & both would go down to certain death. The banks were solid rock hundreds of feet high & the water so cold that they could not live in it a moment without cramp. Genl. A. was strong and active. He climbed carefully until he was between Grant and the river-gave one spring against his breast-forced him back to the ground, & caught to the bushes near & held him fast until the soldiers came & helped to secure him & take him into camp. Patton rarely spoke of it. About the time of the fall of Vicksburg, it got out through some officer writing to one of his staff & his staff insisted on knowing the particulars & were much amused.”
(courtesy of Florida Historical Society: The Florida Historical Quarterly volume 65 issue 3)

Note: The term “delirium tremens” is found in the original article posted online.

Senseless Violence Across the Land Exposes Moral Relativism

by Daniel Mallock

The senseless murder of innocents always shakes our moral foundations. School shootings in particular are shocking and deeply painful. There has been a spate of school murders, mall murders, and of course the ever-present domestic murders where a child kills the parents and siblings, or a parent murders the entire family. These are ugly, senseless, horrible crimes for which there never appears to be any explanation. The killers kill themselves and we as a culture are left with little to learn from these events.

These events undermine our trust in society, in places we had always thought were safe havens-like schools, and builds suspicion where before there may have been a neutrality of feeling.

Most recently Northern Illinois University is the scene. Before that was the massacre at Virginia Tech and the mall shootings in Salt Lake City, and Omaha, Nebraska. Anything can happen in our society now, there are no safe havens - not at study and not in the marketplace.

This most recent horror at NIU involved a young man who has been described by colleagues and teachers as “revered”. Everyone exclaimed shock and bewilderment that the killer could have done such an appalling crime. For them, it seemed to have come from the clear blue sky, without any warnings. In the days following his vicious cowardly attack we learn that this man had a history of mental illness, was given an early discharge from the military for reasons that are still not divulged, refused to take his medication, had been institutionalized for self-destructive behavior (cutting himself), etc. Until recently his facade of normalcy that allowed him to have a long-term relationship, gather awards and respect from his peers, and be seen as a fine student and teacher and functional/normal human was fairly stable so that everyone was fooled.

But there were warning signs. According to CNN the “27-year-old shooter had a history of mental illness and stopped taking antidepressants three weeks ago, making him ‘erratic,’ according to authorities. In the months leading up to the surprise attack, he started covering his body in bizarre tattoos and stockpiling guns.” (CNN, posted 2/19/08) Perhaps we will never know what actions those around him may have taken in the days and weeks prior to the murders to prevent the soon-to-be mass murderer from a total meltdown.

The killer’s girlfriend of two years, now in the national spotlight - has made her choice to talk to the press. Her comments are illustrative of much more than her state of mind in the wake of her boyfriend’s cruelty and violence. They are indicative of a more thorough and widespread moral confusion that seems to permeate our entire culture.

“He wasn’t erratic. He wasn’t delusional. He was Steve; he was normal,” said Baty. She added, “I still love him.”

Can someone “love” someone who has just viciously murdered 5 people? Can someone “love” someone who is a destroyer of life, a berserker? Is Steve worthy of such feelings after his killing spree? Might she have said more accurately, I still love what I thought Steve was? or, I still love the person who I knew as Steve before he did this awful horror, or, I still love the man I thought I knew but never really did. Why couldn’t she have said, “I cannot love someone who did such an appalling thing.” Aren’t there crimes and actions that are unforgivable? I think there are, and this mass murder of innocents at NIU (or VT, or at a mall, etc.) is one of them.

Is this a misconception of what “love” is? Do we need a new definition of “love” to teach our children? Or could this just be some blind loyalty on her part? Does “love” now make us live in a vacuum utterly separated from moral obligation, compassion for others and duty to the wider society?

She clearly struggled with the situation.

“I was with him all the time,” she said. “How could I not have seen this coming? I feel partially responsible because maybe I should have seen something.” The distraught Baty also said her boyfriend was a victim as well on Valentine’s Day. “I feel so bad for the victims. I can’t tell them how sorry I am,” she said.

But then, in just the next breath, it all falls apart.

“But he was a victim too. I know they probably won’t want to hear that, but he was.”

This moral relativity that allows Ms. Baty to compare in her mind the killer with the victims in a way that puts them in the same category seems a complete confusion of priorities and proportion. Feeling bad for the victims ought to have precluded her from describing both the victims and the murderer as victims. It seems a callous, callow, and hollow thing to say. I think that she is correct when she says that the victims and their families “won’t want to hear that.”

“The person I knew was not the one who went into Cole Hall and did that,” Baty told CNN. “He was anything but a monster. He was probably the … nicest, (most) caring person ever.” (CBS News, 2/19/09)

No. It seems that Ms. Baty did not know her boyfriend at all. He was not all “nice” nor “caring”. He was utterly false, evil. The depths of anger and hatred that some people harbor and hide remain a mystery to us all, almost without context or precedent until they lash out and collapse into depravity and violence. There was a time when such actions would earn nothing but condemnation. Can there be sympathy for such a monster? His false persona is gone, and a re-assessment of him and his life required. We often do not know one another, and with disastrous consequences.

In a related situation a youth pastor in Houston, Texas surrendered himself to authorities for a murder that he committed in 1994. The congregants of his church have forgiven him both for the murder and for his falseness, apparently. His church of almost 1000 people praised the murderer/youth pastor for “taking responsibility” and turning himself in. There didn’t seem to be any discussion of why it took him 14 years to do so. But there is more.

Several congregants are quoted by CNN as describing the pastor/murderer as a “hero”.

“‘He’s a hero, really,’ said Kelley Graham, 24. ‘I don’t know how many people would do what he did.’” (CNN, 02/18). Another impressed church member was even stronger in his appreciations, “I am thrilled my son has a role model to accept responsibility the way Calvin (the murderer) has,” Thac said. “There are way too many men who don’t accept responsibility.”

Acceptance of responsibility has only recently been seen as something heroic. Previously, such admirable conduct was considered a fundamental aspect of maturity, of good citizenship, of respectability.

In time of war, as our soldiers fight in Iraq and Afghanistan and war clouds gather on the horizon at other hotspots around the world, can the “acceptance of responsibility” truly be considered “heroic”? Where is the heroism in the admittance to a crime of violence and cowardice? Is this pastor/murderer as heroic, say, as a soldier who dives on a grenade to save the lives of his comrades in Baghdad? Isn’t the police officer who rushes into a house to save the lives of innocent hostages and dies in the attempt a hero? How can we compare an admitted murderer who finally after 14 years admits his guilt to such people who sacrifice themselves for others? The concept of heroism elevates the hero who has surpassed the requirements of responsibility. Taking out the trash is a responsibility, accepting great risk to help others is heroic.

Do we as a culture no longer know who to raise up in honor, and who to abjure and condemn?

A culture of moral confusion must find it difficult if not impossible to sustain itself when in mortal conflict with an ideology of reactionary absolutism like Islamism so contrary to our own understanding of what is good and evil.

When we have so lost our way so as to be unable to identify evil when it confronts us, (or even shares our homes or classrooms with us), and so clearly identifies itself as such by its actions; when we as a culture can not agree fundamentally that certain crimes and behaviors are utterly unforgivable, and that those who commit such horrors like the massacres at VT and NIU, etc. should be roundly condemned, disdained, and reviled - can we effectively confront a violent ideology whose goal is our destruction?

After the school shootings and mall shootings and shattering intra-family murders of recent years, we are left with little learned and little to learn from. The killers who harbor hatred and nihilism and believe that their greatest aspiration is to destroy innocence have nothing to teach us. They kill themselves or are killed, and we are left with questions having no answers. In response, we install improved security systems and processes, and debate gun ownership rights and gun control as we should.

But there is an emptiness of sorrow and moral confusion that these events leave behind. When someone commits an atrocity like the one at NIU or Virginia Tech how can it be that those close to him, who thought they knew him but did not, in the aftermath say that they continue to love him? Isn’t it so that they continue to love the person they thought they had known, a facade that was fronting the hatred and ugliness underneath rather than the cruel anti-person who committed the crime?

Is it time for a re-examination of “love” and the concept of “hero” in our culture? It would appear that the answer is yes. Can we “love” those who commit horrible crimes against us? We need a better, deeper understanding of how we, each one of us, relate to everyone else in our country. We need to have our standards returned to us, we need our heroes again. We need to rescue them from our past, and elevate them when they appear in our daily lives. These are the men and women who inspire us with their courage, bravery, self-sacrifice, and character. And we need to be able to condemn, without doubt and with compassion, those whose abominable actions put them beyond the pale and outside the family of humanity.

Little Friend, Little Friend - Jarrell’s Powerful, Quiet, Short Homage to America’s War

Introduction by Daniel Mallock

A great poem ought to be huge - grand in scope, but not necessarily excessive in length. Great poetry should tell massive stories with multiple layers concisely and artfully. One doesn’t need obscure references, convoluted language, nor self-congratulatory internal winkings. Poetry is supposed to be honest. A great poem should pack a serious punch of power and style and insight.

It’s a complicated world and life is complex, confusing, and manifestly difficult to fathom. Poetry is at its does best when it illustrates and even explains something of life and humanity in a form that is reachable and readily understood, entertaining and impressive. Overly complex poetry tends to be more a demonstration of the art and poet rather than anything that might tend to educate, enlighten, or entertain the reader.

I’ve heaped praise and criticism on the Nashville Fugitives on these pages already. I believe the finest Civil War poem of the 20th century is by one of them - “Lee in the Mountains”, by Donald Davidson. Conversely, the worst Civil War poem of the last century was perpetrated by Allen Tate another Fugitive. His poem “Ode to the Confederate Dead” is something of a crime; a criminal cruelty dumped upon an entire country by an otherwise credible poet. Tate’s poem has long been considered a classic, a suitable tribute to the Confederate dead - the truth is that both assertions are false.

Robert Lowell’s “For the Union Dead” is a brilliant poem conceived by another writer associated with the Fugitives (Lowell studied under John Crowe Ransom at Kenyon College). These three poems represent the finest and the worst 20th century poetic treatments of the Civil War. So, it is somewhat ironic that one of the finest poets of WW2 should also be a student of Ransom, and a colleague of Robert Lowell at Kenyon - another Fugitive associate and Nashvillian. Let’s now complete the Nashville connection…

Perhaps the greatest American poet of WW2 is Randall Jarrell. This poet who would write of bombing raids and dying ball-turret gunners, who would bring the reality of the war into his poetry so powerfully, so lyrically, and so successfully - was born in Nashville and would later teach at Vanderbilt, the very home of the Fugitives.

Randall Jarrell (1914-1965) could embed the nitty gritty of war into his work - the machinery, the oil, the gunmetal, the equipment of death and destruction. He would populate his poems with people who de-populated cities, the air crews of the Eighth Air Force, for example. Jarrell brought the casualties, the blood, the losses, the mechanics of war together in such a way as to bring the war home to the reader - Jarrell’s poems make World War Two real; every casualty is strongly felt.

As with most survivors of war, Jarrell was deeply affected if not scarred by his war experiences. Jarrell served in the Army Air Corps (precursor to the US Air Force) working in a control tower. He had enlisted to fly aircraft but failed to qualify. Jarrell went on to a very successful academic and writing career after the war becoming a noted critic and poet. He died in 1965 in Chapel Hill, North Carolina in a traffic accident. It is not known if Jarrell’s death was a suicide or an accident, but his bouts with depression and the intense emotional depth of his poetry give one pause. Robert Lowell referred to his old Kenyon colleague as one of the “best lyric poets of the past”.

Jarrell’s war poems are jarring, and very real. He brings the experience home and slams it down on the page so that the reader must deal with it, somehow. As with so many of Jarrell’s WW2 poems reading “Little Friend, Little Friend” is an emotional experience, a jarring slap on the side of the head with the truth and ugly reality of war. The ugliness and horror of war can be shared via the beauty of poetry, with the obvious irony there for all to see.

One of Jarrell’s greatest poems is but a fragment and challenges the definition of poetry itself. It is very short, and very powerful. It seems to embrace the men and machines of the war, and put them back in the air where Jarrell always knew them to be - doing their terrible damage and raining death down upon the cities and one another.

David Perkins wrote, “They are vivid and moving incidents of combat, told with an exceptionally sensitive psychological insight and moral perplexity.” (A History of Modern Poetry: Modernism and After (Cambridge, MA, 1987), 393.) Jarrell tells his stories in beautiful language, with little fanfare, and intense emotional power. His poems are novels on a page, huge stories of massive events and shattered people and cities all scrunched up on the page like a crashed bomber - and rebuilt in poetry by way of explanation.

“Little Friend, Little Friend” is a radio transmission/poem between a bomber pilot and a fighter pilot flying in hostile skies. They are there for each other to a certain extent, always just out of range. They do what they can for each other. And in these few lines is a very powerful, very simplified view of the comradery, ugliness, bravery, and extremes of fighting wars in the air. Jarrell is one of America’s most brilliant poets. It is a privilege to present this brilliant fragment/poem of Jarrell on my blog.

“Little Friend, Little Friend”
by Randall Jarrell, 1945

. . . . Then I heard the bomber call me in:

“Little Friend, Little Friend, I got two
engines on fire. Can you see me, Little
Friend?”

I said “I’m crossing right over you.
Let’s go home.”

The Bomber
Photo Courtesy of “100% Geek”

Little Friend
Photo Courtesy of “HistoryLink101″

The Greatest Civil War Western - The Outlaw Josie Wales

by Daniel Mallock

The Outlaw Josie Wales is my favorite western. It’s considered by some folks to be the greatest western. I agree.

A great western should have a collection of strong key elements, and Josie Wales has them all. The setting is the savage Civil War in Missouri and Kansas where atrocities and outrages were perpetrated by irregulars of both sides. Folks at the time called these criminals and guerrillas “bushwackers”. The fighting in this theater of the Civil War is not commonly known by non-students and historians and was particularly ugly and violent. Most actions were small unit affairs, with people who were well known to one another before the war fighting under opposing flags. Violence and crimes against civilians was common as both legitimate armies used irregulars to terrorize the civilian population. The massacre at Centralia, Missouri , September 27, 1864 was perpetrated by Bloody Bill Anderson and his men. There is no mention of this event in the film, of course, as there could be no sympathy for anyone who had had a part in that abomination.

Josie Wales captures the ugliness and horror of those times and provides a motivator to the title character when his family is murdered by Kansas Union irregulars. Wales is enraged and joins Bloody Bill Anderson’s Confederate guerrilla outfit. When the War ends, they are one of the last organized Confederate units to surrender (at least according to the film). Wales’ comrades surrender themselves at a Union camp, but Josie refuses. But everything is not as it seems and as the men surrender their arms and take the Oath of Allegiance to the Union, they are viciously murdered in cold blood. It turns out that the same unit that has just killed his fellow Confederates is the very same that had killed his family several years before. And so the chase begins… Wales is now the “Outlaw Josie Wales” running from bounty hunters and every male in the territory with a gun not to mention the Union army.

Josie Wales is played by Clint Eastwood in one his best performances. The character is very much like the “Man with no name” from his Spaghetti Western days. Closer to “Blondie” in The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly than the silent gunslinger of “Pale Rider” Wales is essentially a good man driven to revenge and violence by circumstances. He is the everyman of the Civil War dragged into the maelstrom of events. As he runs from his pursuers he picks up a ragtag crew of fascinating characters who ride with him, eventually heading for southern Texas. Along the way there are gunfights, suspense, and lots of action.

A great western should have certain components including:

• beautiful desert scenery
• a good story line
• small ramshackle frontier towns
• a hero or anti-hero with strong and understandable motivations
• guns, ideally pistols
• cool hats
• indians
• lots of horses
• rotten villains

Outlaw Josie Wales (1976) was directed by Eastwood as well as starring himself. Sandra Locke, later his common law wife, Chief Dan George, and John Vernon co-star.

Wales is an avenger as he rides across deserts and through broken down frontier towns. He has no options, but to find a place to hide, or just keep on riding forever. Every shooting that involve him is self-defense or in the defense of others who cannot defend themselves. He is a hero, an unsurrendered Confederate partisan, haunted by the senseless murder of his family.

Josie Wales has beautiful scenery, lots of horses and pistols, rotten villains who deserve to get shot (and generally do), suffering innocents who need protection, and one of the coolest hats in American cinema history.

Josie Wales’ hat is stained with sweat, it’s a deep Confederate Gray with a wide and slightly upturned brim. Eastwood hides his eyes under the brim of this hat, and when he slightly lifts his head to look at someone - they know quickly that Wales is not a man to be trifled with. He has a sense of honor and obligation to others, but has no compunction in shooting those who are hunting him or are fixin’ to hurt his friends.

There is a funny moment after Eastwood and his friends have arrived at their Texas destination. Sondra Locke dressed in a fine white dress talks about how beautiful the clouds look. She represents the stability, and happiness of his pre-war life and the look of sadness and dissociation that Eastwood delivers is a fine and sad one. After all of his war-fighting, his losses, and the personal toll that the War has taken, Josie Wales must try very hard to find a place for himself in a peaceful and stable post-war environment. Killing is easy now for him, it’s the living without violence that will be so challenging. One of the more powerful aspects of his character is that he so wants to try.

“For the Union Dead” by Robert Lowell - A Superb Civil War Poem that Continues to Resonate

Introduction by Daniel Mallock

It is altogether fitting and proper that this poem should be posted and read today, of all days. Martin Luther King day is the right day for this poem, this tribute to the Union dead of the Civil War and a particular remembrance of the black soldiers who wore the uniform of the Union particularly of the Massachusetts 54th Regiment made famous to non-Civil War students by the movie Glory several years ago.

The 54th Massachusetts was the first black regiment to march from the North to fight the Confederacy. These men were quite brave knowing that in battle they would likely get little or no quarter, and if captured they would most assuredly be sent south back to slavery. These men had much to prove what with years of racism from North and South to be broken and defeated by their bravery and sacrifices not to mention the Confederate army that they would later face on the battlefield. They would win ever-lasting fame for their courage during their doomed assault on Fort Wagner at Charleston Harbor, South Carolina, July, 1863. The attack would be a night assault on this heavily guarded fort. The fighting would be intense and the 54th would not be successful. Their white colonel, Robert Gould Shaw would be killed, and almost half the regiment would be lost. The first Medal of Honor for a black man would be earned there.

They marched down Beacon Street, with the Massachusetts State House on one side and Boston Common on the other - off to war, off to death and glory on a twin mission; to fight for the Union and show the world that they were equal in ability to whites. Directly across the street from the Massachusetts State House on Beacon Street there now stands the brilliant monument by Augustus St. Gaudens forever commemorating the 54th, the first black regiment and their white commander Colonel Robert Gould Shaw.

Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, Colonel, 54th Massachusetts

This monument on Beacon Hill is one of the finest monuments of any kind in the United States. As a tribute to Shaw and the 54th it is unparalled in the physical world; but in the emotional world, the world of poetry, Robert Lowell comes quite close. Lowell brilliantly describes the monument to the 54th and works it into the life of Boston that foremost of abolition cities of the North. Standing before the 54th monument on Beacon Hill, as the crowds walk swiftly by and the traffic speeds along past the State House, one can almost hear the men breath as they are forever frozen in bronze on their march south to battle. There are few monuments in bronze as lifelike as this one: it is an incredible tribute to the 54th and their commander and adorns the city of Boston as fittingly as the obelisk at Bunker Hill or the colonial historical sites of Adams, Revere, Hancock, and several miles to the west, Lexington and Concord.

Lowell’s “For the Union Dead” is a successful poem on so many levels and succeeds completely where Tate’s “Ode to the Confederate Dead” so totally fails. It unifies time and place, and brings context and permanence where everything seems to be shifting and changing. As a tribute to the 54th and the Union dead of the Civil War its elements run as deep as the waters off the coast of Boston seen from the top of Beacon Hill so long ago when the skyscrapers didn’t block the view.

Having started his education at Harvard Lowell transfered to Kenyon College to study under John Crowe Ransom another of Vanderbilt’s Fugitives, like Allen Tate and Donald Davidson. It is an astounding thing that the two greatest Civil War poems of modern times (”Lee in the Mountains” and “For the Union Dead”) and the worst (”Ode to the Confederate Dead”) should be written by poets with Nashville connections. Lowell went on to graduate school to study under Robert Penn Warren, another Vanderbilt “Fugitive”.

St. Gaudens placed a latin inscription on the monument, the motto of the Society of the Cincinnati (a society of Revolutionary War officers started by George Washington and Henry Knox): “Relinquit Omnia Servare Rem Publicam”. The translation is: “He left behind everything to save the Republic”. Lowell opened his poem with this latin phrase but changed the singular “he” to “they” in the latin so that his poem would refer to all the men of the 54th not just its white commander, Robert Gould Shaw, to read: “Relinquunt Omnia Servare Rem Publicam”.

St. Gaudens’ Masterpiece - The 54th Massachusetts Marching to War - You can almost hear them breath

“For the Union Dead” was published in 1964 during the height of the Civil Rights movement. Active in Civil Rights efforts it is perfectly understandable that Lowell should have written this poem of unity and appreciation with concern, too, that the past should be remembered and its lessons learned. The battlefield of Fort Wagner had been by then reclaimed by the sea at Charleston Harbor and the monument to the 54th had fallen into disrepair. In fact, it was during this time that the St. Gaudens monument had been removed and stored in a crate to prevent damage from “shaking” from the construction of the underground Boston Commons parking garage. So, the battleground is gone, and Shaw’s monunument is gone (but only temporarily), and history fades while “progress” continues speedily obliterating the memory of those that have come before.

“The stone statues of the abstract Union Soldier
grow slimmer and younger each year–
wasp-waisted, they doze over muskets
and muse through their sideburns . . .”

Lowell’s brilliant poem is his way of retaining the past and ensuring that important historical memory is not lost forever. The men of the 54th Massachusetts, black and white, were leaders in bringing an end to slavery and establishing equality under the law for blacks in America. The story of their bravery and sacrifice is important to understanding American history and the Civil War. These men demonstrated with their actions and their blood that they were equals and merited equal positions in American society. As Americans North and South we ought to continue to embrace their memory and appreciate the many challenges that they overcame and the lessons that they taught us with their sacrifices at Fort Wagner and elsewhere.

On Martin Luther King day especially we can look back to the 54th Massachusetts as a standard bearer in the struggle for Civil Rights in America. In the 1980s I was privileged to be part of an effort to restore the St. Gaudens monument to its original beauty and power. Lowell’s poem is a tribute to this beautiful work of art, and the men of the 54th Massachusetts who so inspired it. It is our duty as a civilized society to remember our past, appreciate and commemorate our war dead, and learn those lessons that they underscored for later generations with their lives.

“Two months after marching through Boston,
half the regiment was dead;
at the dedication,
William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe.”

This is one of the finest poems of the 20th century and stands with “Lee in the Mountains” as one of the two great modern poems of the Civil War. It is my pleasure to present it here.

-Daniel Mallock

For the Union Dead

by Robert Lowell

“Relinquunt Omnia Servare Rem Publicam.”

The old South Boston Aquarium stands
in a Sahara of snow now. Its broken windows are boarded.
The bronze weathervane cod has lost half its scales.
The airy tanks are dry.

Once my nose crawled like a snail on the glass;
my hand tingled
to burst the bubbles
drifting from the noses of the cowed, compliant fish.

My hand draws back. I often sigh still
for the dark downward and vegetating kingdom
of the fish and reptile. One morning last March,
I pressed against the new barbed and galvanized

fence on the Boston Common. Behind their cage,
yellow dinosaur steamshovels were grunting
as they cropped up tons of mush and grass
to gouge their underworld garage.

Parking spaces luxuriate like civic
sandpiles in the heart of Boston.
A girdle of orange, Puritan-pumpkin colored girders
braces the tingling Statehouse,

shaking over the excavations, as it faces Colonel Shaw
and his bell-cheeked Negro infantry
on St. Gaudens’ shaking Civil War relief,
propped by a plank splint against the garage’s earthquake.

Two months after marching through Boston,
half the regiment was dead;
at the dedication,
William James could almost hear the bronze Negroes breathe.

Their monument sticks like a fishbone
in the city’s throat.
Its Colonel is as lean
as a compass-needle.

He has an angry wrenlike vigilance,
a greyhound’s gently tautness;
he seems to wince at pleasure,
and suffocate for privacy.

He is out of bounds now. He rejoices in man’s lovely,
peculiar power to ch