Charles Carleton Coffin, Army Correspondent of The Boston Journal, wrote the following letter to his newspaper from Chatham house on December 9, 1862 (excerpted from "Four Years of Fighting" by Charles Carleton Coffin):
"It is a clear, cold morning. The sky is without a cloud. Standing near General Sumner's quarters, I have a wide sweep of vision. The quarters of the veteran general commanding the right grand division are in a spacious mansion, newly constructed, the property of wealthy planter, whose estate is somewhat shorn of its beauty by the ravages of war. The fences are all gone, the forests are fast disappearing, the fine range of cedars which lined the Belleplain road are no longer to be seen. All around are the white tents of the command, the innumerable camp-fires sending up blue columns of smoke. The air is calm. You hear the rumbling of distant baggage-trains, the clatter of hundreds of axes felling the forests for fuel,--the bugle-call of the cavalrymen, and the rat-a-plan of the drummers, and mingling with all, the steady, constant flow of the falling waters of the winding stream.
Looking far off to the southeast, across the intervals of the river, you see a white cloud of steam moving beneath the fringe of a forest. It is a locomotive from Richmond, dragging its train of cars with supplies for the Rebel camps. The forests and hills beyond are alive with them. Resting my glass against the side of the building to keep it steady, I can count the men grouped around the camp-fires, turning at times to keep themselves warm. Others are bringing in wood. An officer rides along. A train of wagons is winding down the hill toward the town. All along the range of hills are earthworks with sandbag embrasures, and artillery behind,--not quaker guns, I think, but field artillery, so ranged that a movement directly across the river would be marching into the jaws of death,---as hazardous and destructive as the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava.
I know that there is a clamor for an onward movement, a desire and expectation for an advance; but I think there are few men in the country who, after taking a look at the Rebel positions, would like to lead in a movement across the stream.
Looking into the town of Fredericksburg we see but few smokes ascending from chimneys, but few people in the streets. It is almost wholly deserted. The women and children have gone to Richmond, or else are shivering in camp. Close upon the river-bank on either side face the pickets, within easy talking distance of each other. There has been no shooting of late. There is constant badinage. The Rebel picket asks the Yankee when he is going to Richmond. The Yankee asks the Rebel if he don't want a pair of boots. I am sorry to say that such conversation is mixed with profane words. Each party seems to think that hard words hit hard.
Last night the southern sky was red with the blaze of Rebel camp-fires. Far off to the southeast I see a hazy cloud, and columns of smoke, indicating the presence of a large army. I do not doubt that if we attempt to cross we shall meet with terrible opposition from a force nearly if not quite as large as our own.
If the President or General Halleck insist upon Burnside's making the movement, it will be made with whatever power, energy, determination, and bravery the army can exhibit. I am as anxious as any one can be to see a great blow given to the Rebellion; but I am not at all anxious to see the attempt made against such disadvantages as are apparent to the most casual observer from this position."
Today you can still visit Fredericksburg, Virginia, and in particular Chatham House (aka Lacey House) and find much of the same scenery and the same scenes that would have presented themselves to those present at the battle. This weekend in Fredericksburg the anniversary of the battle will be marked by reenactors and citizens retelling the story of the battle and on Sunday you will be able to follow the march of the Irish Brigade through the streets of the city to their fatal engagement on Marye's Heights and NPS historian and author Frank O'Reilly narrates.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Iwo Jima Creed
In one of my past commentaries here, I stated that the American military would inevitably accept the service of LGBT persons. It now appears that only the U.S. Marine Corps is still resisting this decision. I recently found, courtesy of author Robert Coram, evidence that some Marines do "get this." In his new biography of Victor "Brute" Krulak, Coram included the following sermon given by Rabbi Gittelsohn (5th Marine Division) at the Jewish memorial service conducted on the island of Iwo Jima in the battle's aftermath.
Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors generations ago helped in her founding, and other men who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores. Here lie officers and men, Negroes and whites, rich men and poor...together. Here are Protestants, Catholics and Jews together. Here no man prefers another because of his faith or despises him because of his color. Here there are no quotas of how many from each group are admitted or allowed. Among these men, there is no discrimination. No prejudices. No hatred. Theirs is the highest and purest democracy...
Whosever of us lifts his hand in hate against a brother, or who thinks himself superior to those who happen to be in the minority, makes of this ceremony and the bloody sacrifice it commemorates, an empty, hollow mockery. To this, then, as our solemn duty, sacred duty do we the living now dedicate ourselves: to the right of Protestants, Catholics, and Jews, of white men and Negroes alike, to enjoy the democracy for which all of them have here paid the price.
We here solemnly swear that this shall not be in vain. Out of this and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this will come, we promise, the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere.
Semper Fidelis
Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors generations ago helped in her founding, and other men who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores. Here lie officers and men, Negroes and whites, rich men and poor...together. Here are Protestants, Catholics and Jews together. Here no man prefers another because of his faith or despises him because of his color. Here there are no quotas of how many from each group are admitted or allowed. Among these men, there is no discrimination. No prejudices. No hatred. Theirs is the highest and purest democracy...
Whosever of us lifts his hand in hate against a brother, or who thinks himself superior to those who happen to be in the minority, makes of this ceremony and the bloody sacrifice it commemorates, an empty, hollow mockery. To this, then, as our solemn duty, sacred duty do we the living now dedicate ourselves: to the right of Protestants, Catholics, and Jews, of white men and Negroes alike, to enjoy the democracy for which all of them have here paid the price.
We here solemnly swear that this shall not be in vain. Out of this and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this will come, we promise, the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere.
Semper Fidelis
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Great War, The War to End All Wars, The First World War, but especially The Ultimate Infantry War
Many scholars, including myself, spent many years carefully avoiding much of what had been written about the First World War. After all, what could you learn about a muddy bloodbath in which armies of lions were led by donkeys as line after line of infantry marched blindly into massed rows of machine guns?
Of course, in recent years we have discovered that there is actually a great deal to learn from study of the Great War as both revisionists and counter-revisionists conducted new research, old manuscripts and books were rediscovered, and a more thorough and professional study and analysis of the subject emerged. This re-assessment came with new attention to first hand material – the memoirs written by the actual combatants.
I have three such works on my shelf and recently read them as a part of a study of the changing life and evolving times of the modern (20th and 21st Century) infantryman. Two are the memoirs of British officers and the third is an English translation of a German officer’s memoirs. I strongly recommend always reading sources from both sides of any battle, campaign, war, or conflict as the best possible way to get a complete and well rounded understanding of the subject. While none of these fully reflects the experience of the enlisted soldier, as officers their authors are in a better position to tell us not only what happened but what was supposed to have happened.
Good-bye to All That, Robert Graves, © 1985 Robert Graves, Anchor Books Edition, 1998, New York, ISBN: 0-385-09330-6
A Passionate Prodigality, Guy Chapman, © 1966 Guy Chapman, Fawcett Publications, Greenwich,
The Storm of Steel, From the Diary of a German Storm-Troop Officer on the Western Front, Ernst Jünger, 1996 printing, Howard Fertig, New York
Robert Graves served as a rather un-regular Army officer in a very regular army battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Guy Chapman was one of Kitchener’s New Army volunteers in a wartime battalion of The Royal Fusiliers. As a result, the two memoirs reflect the differing attitudes and atmosphere between these two British Army communities and their sometimes-strained relationship. Ernst Jünger served in the 73rd Hanoverian Fusiliers. The Hanoverians were a regular army regiment though not Prussians. The 73rd Hanoverian Fusiliers, in fact, wore a “Gibraltar” battle ribbon on their coat sleeves commemorating their role as one of the defenders of that British outpost during the period of the American Revolution when both realms were under the rule of the House of Hanover. This gave them a peculiar relationship with their British foe and offered British Army personnel a surprise either on the battlefield or when encountering Hanoverian prisoners or captors.
Graves was a prolific novelist, poet, and translator, which is reflected in particular in this memoir by its treatment of his life both before and after the war and his many encounters with other British literary figures in and out of the Army. Chapman, who would go on to a writing career of his own as a historian and publisher, concentrates more on the war and his experiences in it. The former entered the war directly from school at about the age of 20 while the latter was in his mid-20s. Their initial experiences of army life were fairly similar as they completed officers’ training and then fulfilled various brief temporary duty billets before finally reporting to their respective regiments in France.
Both memoirs are replete with detailed accounts of battle and descriptions of life in the trenches, every bit as harrowing and at times monotonous as we might expect, as well as those often extended interludes behind the lines. Many of these anecdotes and episodes will not belie the traditional view of the war as one of bloody, mindless slaughter in the mud – but both officers also describe their efforts and the efforts of their superiors (at most levels) to try and find other, new ways of war that would protect the lives of the men under their charge (and their own for the front line officers as the deaths among the officer ranks are more frequently reported in detail).
Ernst Jünger, by contrast to our two British amateurs, was an accomplished soldier as well as subsequently successful author, earning Germany’s highest decoration – the Pour le merite – for his First World War service. He was a leader of the "storm trooper" assault formations that were critical to Germany's late war successes, though he does not go in to great detail on their training. He was also a recognized conservative and nationalist, though one who was never comfortable with or reconciled to the Nazis and their regime. Nevertheless, these war memoirs were very popular in both Weimar and Nazi Germany, with their air of youthful ardor and emphasis upon the manly martial virtues.
All three books capture the boredom of trench life and its punctuating moments of terror, as well as the frenzied ennui of life behind the trenches, usually soothed by alcohol. Jünger makes a particular emphasis upon the amount of drink consumed during these rear area respites from the horrors of war, but all three authors make it clear that Post-traumatic Stress was not an unknown reality during the First World War.
Of course, in recent years we have discovered that there is actually a great deal to learn from study of the Great War as both revisionists and counter-revisionists conducted new research, old manuscripts and books were rediscovered, and a more thorough and professional study and analysis of the subject emerged. This re-assessment came with new attention to first hand material – the memoirs written by the actual combatants.
I have three such works on my shelf and recently read them as a part of a study of the changing life and evolving times of the modern (20th and 21st Century) infantryman. Two are the memoirs of British officers and the third is an English translation of a German officer’s memoirs. I strongly recommend always reading sources from both sides of any battle, campaign, war, or conflict as the best possible way to get a complete and well rounded understanding of the subject. While none of these fully reflects the experience of the enlisted soldier, as officers their authors are in a better position to tell us not only what happened but what was supposed to have happened.
Good-bye to All That, Robert Graves, © 1985 Robert Graves, Anchor Books Edition, 1998, New York, ISBN: 0-385-09330-6
A Passionate Prodigality, Guy Chapman, © 1966 Guy Chapman, Fawcett Publications, Greenwich,
The Storm of Steel, From the Diary of a German Storm-Troop Officer on the Western Front, Ernst Jünger, 1996 printing, Howard Fertig, New York
Robert Graves served as a rather un-regular Army officer in a very regular army battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. Guy Chapman was one of Kitchener’s New Army volunteers in a wartime battalion of The Royal Fusiliers. As a result, the two memoirs reflect the differing attitudes and atmosphere between these two British Army communities and their sometimes-strained relationship. Ernst Jünger served in the 73rd Hanoverian Fusiliers. The Hanoverians were a regular army regiment though not Prussians. The 73rd Hanoverian Fusiliers, in fact, wore a “Gibraltar” battle ribbon on their coat sleeves commemorating their role as one of the defenders of that British outpost during the period of the American Revolution when both realms were under the rule of the House of Hanover. This gave them a peculiar relationship with their British foe and offered British Army personnel a surprise either on the battlefield or when encountering Hanoverian prisoners or captors.
Graves was a prolific novelist, poet, and translator, which is reflected in particular in this memoir by its treatment of his life both before and after the war and his many encounters with other British literary figures in and out of the Army. Chapman, who would go on to a writing career of his own as a historian and publisher, concentrates more on the war and his experiences in it. The former entered the war directly from school at about the age of 20 while the latter was in his mid-20s. Their initial experiences of army life were fairly similar as they completed officers’ training and then fulfilled various brief temporary duty billets before finally reporting to their respective regiments in France.
Both memoirs are replete with detailed accounts of battle and descriptions of life in the trenches, every bit as harrowing and at times monotonous as we might expect, as well as those often extended interludes behind the lines. Many of these anecdotes and episodes will not belie the traditional view of the war as one of bloody, mindless slaughter in the mud – but both officers also describe their efforts and the efforts of their superiors (at most levels) to try and find other, new ways of war that would protect the lives of the men under their charge (and their own for the front line officers as the deaths among the officer ranks are more frequently reported in detail).
Ernst Jünger, by contrast to our two British amateurs, was an accomplished soldier as well as subsequently successful author, earning Germany’s highest decoration – the Pour le merite – for his First World War service. He was a leader of the "storm trooper" assault formations that were critical to Germany's late war successes, though he does not go in to great detail on their training. He was also a recognized conservative and nationalist, though one who was never comfortable with or reconciled to the Nazis and their regime. Nevertheless, these war memoirs were very popular in both Weimar and Nazi Germany, with their air of youthful ardor and emphasis upon the manly martial virtues.
All three books capture the boredom of trench life and its punctuating moments of terror, as well as the frenzied ennui of life behind the trenches, usually soothed by alcohol. Jünger makes a particular emphasis upon the amount of drink consumed during these rear area respites from the horrors of war, but all three authors make it clear that Post-traumatic Stress was not an unknown reality during the First World War.
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