The Way I See It

I wanted this blog to be dynamic, earth shattering, memorable. BUT wantin’ ain’t gettin’. Funny, how history is not always what we want it to be. I had a great conversation last week with an aspiring historian about methodology, historiography, and research, in general. It began, as I recall with separating the truth from the fiction, about writing about what really happened as opposed to what we have been taught.

The United Daughters of the Confederacy and the Lost Cause came up. As a boy growing up in Virginia I knew that the War Between the States was started by the money grubbing Yankees and their tariffs, and arrogance. I also knew that “damnYankee” was one word - until I went to college.

I knew that every Good Ole Rebel was fighting for independence and not for the perpetuation of slavery and that the Southern Confederacy was truly united – kind of oxymoronic, isn’t it? (A united Confederation.) Dr. Phil McGraw says that “perception is reality” and I agree, however being somewhat “teched,” I also know that perceived truth is not always the truth. Perhaps the blessing of knowing that I am flawed makes it easier to identify misperceptions because I have had first hand experiences with them.

The truth is that slavery was the underlying cause of the war, despite the fact that the average U.S. citizen did not care to admit that. Lincoln knew that when he committed the nation to an undeclared war. The Southern economy, political structure, and society evolved around the ownership of human property. The 25% of the landed citizenry, including freedmen owned slaves. Like it or not, the records show that.

The South was never united. Every Confederate state except South Carolina provided at least one white regiment or battery to the Union Army. South Carolina provided the first black regiment, the 1st South Carolina Volunteers. A quick check of Dyer’s Compendium of the War of the Rebellion proves it.

We discussed how the war is portrayed in popular culture – bold men courageously standing shoulder-to-shoulder blazing away at each other under the direction of mounted officers who could control everything like generals in a board game. Cardboard soldiers on a checkerboard field. It just was not that way.

High humidity, rolling hills, impenetrable smoke, ear numbing, head jarring noise and chaos dominated the field. Visibility could be reduced to a matter of feet. That is when the close engagements occurred; even then if the ground afforded cover the soldiers took advantage of it with or without orders.  Men did turn and walk off the field rather than face annihilation. They displayed common sense not cowardice.

Grandma might have told you that her grandfather led a charge, when he might not have. The pension records could possibly verify that. The war was not glorious. From the human perspective, no war is. Romanticizing it does a disservice to the men, women, and children who perished.  It was gruesome, filthy, and brutal. During the conflict some Confederate infantry did wear blue uniforms into battle and did fly the U.S. flag. Both sides used exploding bullets – early versions of dumdums. Both sides during an engagement would occasionally finish off wounded men and the soldiers trying to surrender. On some fields the dead were cremated because the armies had lost too many men to bury. Officers got “fragged” (murdered) by enlisted men. Artillery did deliberately fire through their own troops to save their guns. Soldiers lied down and let “green” troops go to their certain deaths.

A considerable portion of the armies deserted at one time or another throughout the war. The armies executed murderers and rapists, as well as deserters. The problem with researching any history is that it makes a person uncomfortable. I think, perhaps, that as a people, according to the news, have gotten too thin-skinned. We cannot laugh at ourselves or with ourselves. We’re too self-centered and narrowly focused. I do not know. We cannot undo what happened. We need to accept that it did and our wishing it had not occurred will not change it one bit.

It kind of reminds me of the sending off of a slow cowpoke at his funeral. “The Good Book says something about the quick and the dead. Well, Shorty he shore warent quick but he shore are dead.”

The monuments on battlefields are dedicated mostly to the fallen rather than the living. They are tombstones. There is nothing wrong with them. They remind us of the horrible cost of war. I accept them for what they are. They reflect the lives of the dead they way we prefer to remember them, and not, necessarily the way they were. They often represent the sentimental, inspiring reminders of a past which has been sanitized and glorified to help us cope with the Dantean reality of the senseless carnage of war. Rather than destroy them, deface them or remove them because they represent the “wrong side” or the individuals who fought for the “wrong side,” use them as aids to facilitate learning about why they exist and why they are so controversial. Burying the sins of the past without dealing them is like sweeping the proverbial “dirt under the rug.” The problem is hidden and not being dealt with at all.

We discussed how difficult it is to reconcile “family stories” with what really happened. I had relatives on both sides during the war. Two great-great uncles fought with the 16th Tennessee Mounted infantry at Murfreesboro. One was killed, the other captured. That uncle took the oath after spending time on Johnson’s Island but never reconstructed. I had two other relatives in the Union. One was discharged with a disability and the other told my grandmother he hauled cannonballs during the war. He served in the 5th New York Heavies until 1863. After getting promoted to corporal, he deserted. Not everyone who serves is a hero. Not all heroes are nice people. It is easier to glorify the inglorious than to deal with the reality. As humans we generally reserve our platitudes until the funeral, as reflected in most monuments and tombstones. We mummify our dead through embalming; earlier in our history individuals took photographs of the deceased, and we erect tombstones to remind us of their existence. Very few tombstones reflect the reality of those individuals. If they did, they would read like the following actual inscriptions:

Here Lies My Wife,

A Slattern and a Shrew

If I Should Say I Loved Her,

I Would Lie Here Too

Here Lies John Smith

And His Wife.

Their Warfare Is Accomplished

     Thank you for taking the time to read this. Constructive comments are always welcomed.