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The Battle of Jenkins' Ferry as portrayed in Lincoln |
In a recent post over at Civil War Memory, Kevin Levin asked
a series of probing questions about the ways in which USCT history is
interpreted at public sites.
Part of one question in particular piqued my interest – “have
we inadvertently made the message visitors receive [about US Colored Troops]
too celebratory?”
This is something I have struggled with, especially when it
comes to battlefield atrocities and the refusal by some USCT units to take
prisoners.
One cannot approach the topic of US Colored Troops without
encountering numerous occasions in which black soldiers were ruthlessly cut
down on the battlefield while in the act of surrender. Olustee, Fort Pillow,
the Crater, Saltville – the list of places where Confederate troops perpetrated
these war crimes goes on and on.
But there is a flip side to this coin, and the way it is presented
in the grand narrative can be problematic. Just as one can find numerous examples
in Civil War texts that lay out the atrocities committed by rebel soldiers, one
can also find the examples of when US Colored Troops went into action shouting “Remember
Fort Pillow!” and encouraging their fellow soldiers to “raise the black flag”
and give no quarter to any Confederate soldier who sought any.
Take, for example, an incident made popular in the opening
scenes of Spielberg’s Lincoln – the clash at Jenkins’ Ferry.
Here is how the scene plays out in Tony Kushner’s script:
There’s no discipline
or strategy, nothing depersonalized: it’s mayhem and each side intensely hates
the other. Both have resolved to take no prisoners.
HAROLD GREEN (V.O.)
“Some of us was in the
Second Kansas Colored. We fought the rebs at Jenkins’ Ferry last April, just
after they’d killed every Negro soldier they captured at Poison Springs….So at
Jenkins’ Ferry, we decided warn’t taking no reb prisoners. And we didn’t leave
a one of ‘em alive. The ones of us that didn’t die that day, we joined up with
the 116th U.S. Colored, sir. From Camp Nelson Kentucky.”
Private Green coolly relates the story of this atrocity
without batting an eye, and Lincoln gives no obvious sign of disapproval for
what he would know to be a violation of the articles of war. Thus, the audience
is lulled into thinking that the action of Green and his compatriots was
perfectly acceptable.
The fight at Jenkins’ Ferry (April 30, 1864) was retaliation
for the Battle of Poison Spring (April 18, 1864) and was every bit as cold and
ruthless as it appears on screen.
But one is inevitably left asking the question – if it was
wrong for Confederates to show no mercy to surrendering black troops, what made
it acceptable for USCTs to engage in the same activity?
Indeed, the Union
soldiers who witnessed Jenkins’ Ferry wrestled with this question themselves.
One white northerner wrote after the battle: “It looks hard, but the rebs
cannot blame the negroes when they are guilty of the same trick.” Another
simply observed, “It would not surprise me in the least if the war would
ultimately be one of extermination. Its tendencies are in that direction now.” (Note:
for a great treatment of Poison Springs and Jenkins’ Ferry, see Gregory J.
Urwin, “’We Cannot Treat Negroes…as Prisoners of War’: Racial Atrocities and
Reprisals in Civil War Arkansas” in The Price of Freedom: Slavery and the Civil
War, Vol. 1).
Since the cause that the USCTs were fighting for is so much
more compatible to 21st Century America’s views on justice and
freedom, it seems as if these incidents have flown under the radar and are
taken at face value as the Confederacy’s just deserts for fighting to establish
a slaveholding republic in the first place. Indeed, that very well may be the
case.
But what if it isn’t?
Even George Burkhart in his work Confederate Rage, Yankee Wrath:
No Quarter in the Civil War writes that if the black Union soldiers and their
commanding officers had ever been court martialed for killing soldiers in the
act of surrender, they “would have packed many courtrooms. They killed a large
but unknown number of wounded, surrendered, or captured Confederates. Though
their lawyers might contend that the defendants only gave as good as they got,
that argument would not have saved them” (p. 247).
As we continue into the Sesquicentennial and the topic of emancipation
and black military service takes center stage, we would do well to wrestle with
such vexing questions. The struggle is worthwhile.