“What Will the Country Say?”

 Do those who argue that perhaps the war was unnecessary deserve the usual accusation that they are insufficiently alert to the moral evil of slavery? Could the wicked institution of slavery have been destroyed without the carnage of war? Did the differences in…social institutions make necessary the deaths of more than 600,000 Americans and the suffering of millions of others? – Elbert B. Smith, 1967

A nameless Confederate, killed May 3, 1863.

It has become a cliché in the study of the American Civil War to use well-worn phrases like William Tecumseh Sherman’s adage that “war is all hell” to convey the sheer magnitude of the slaughter that took place from 1861-1865. But if one looks at today’s popular historical art, the pre-eminent focus on battles in Civil War literature, and the bloodless re-enactments that have marked the commemoration of the sesquicentennial thus far, it would not be unreasonable to wonder – have we come to terms with the unspeakable horror that tainted the hallowed fields of Antietam or Gettysburg? Can we wrap our brains around the deaths of approximately 700,000 Americans and still attend anniversary events with the same sense of excitement?

Can we remember the Civil War as it really was, and not as we wish it could have been?

To put it differently, are we haunted or angered by Elbert Smith’s piercing question? Do we feel its weight, or roll our eyes and skip ahead to the morass of tactical details surrounding our “favorite” battle?

To bring this question down to reality, let us consider the Battle of Chancellorsville, which began in earnest 150 years ago today.

The clash around Chancellorsville is a tale often painted in bold and dashing colors – the rascally braggart Hooker, with his impeccable battle plan that seemed near perfect until he lost faith in himself; the mad genius Stonewall Jackson, in a role he was predestined for, leading the way in an attack that would have been condemned as sheer folly had it failed; and the gambling knight of old, Robert E. Lee, who laughed at the odds stacked against him and pulled off what many claim was his signature victory.

Civil War buffs are very familiar with this well-trodden ground, and the film Gods & Generals helped to popularize this version of events.

What many people don’t realize is that the worst fighting of the battle took place the day after Jackson was knocked out of the fight, at a place called Fairview where a man fell killed or wounded every three seconds. Indeed, May 3, 1863 ranks as the second bloodiest day of the entire Civil War.

Chancellorsville was a battle that contained high drama, reckless courage, amazing feats of heroism – and it was almost completely devoid of any real consequences, other than the horrific number of losses.

In all, there were 30,764 combined casualties.

Robert E. Lee himself wrote after the battle that, “Our people were wild with delight – I, on the contrary, was more depressed than after Fredericksburg; our loss was severe, and again we had gained not an inch of ground and the enemy could not be pursued.”

Lincoln could only hold his face in his hands and moan, "My God! My God! What will the country say?”

It is not my intent to belittle the commemoration taking place this weekend, or go off on a lark about the futility of the American Civil War, or warfare in general. Far from it.

But I definitely think that we need to wrestle more with these issues.

Preserving the Union and Emancipation were both unquestionably worthy causes to fight for.

All I ask is that we count the cost. 

Arlington USCT Commemoration: Cancelled

James H. Harris, Section 27, Arlington National Cemetery

Over the past few months I’ve made a few references to a program that was to be held at Arlington House: The Robert E. Lee Memorial on May 18th that would commemorate General Orders No. 143, which established the Bureau of Colored Troops.

Today, I learned that the powers that be have decided to cancel the event.

The reason?

Well, your guess is as good as mine.

The great bugaboo of the sequester cannot be given as the reason, since the event required no extra staffing costs and the re-enactment unit that had agreed to participate was coming for free.

So if you were in the mood to participate in a wreath-laying ceremony at a USCT grave, hear a rousing recruiting speech by a Frederick Douglass impersonator, or watch an infantry demonstration by a USCT re-enacting unit, well…

Maybe you should attend one of these events.

This is a troubling decision made by a site that already has a “conflict of interpretation.”

And Who Says All Civil War Re-enactors are Wackos?

Some of you may recall a post that I wrote two years ago defending Civil War re-enactors from the fiery darts of aspersion cast by Dr. Glenn W. Lafantasie in a Salon.com article that lambasted re-enactors as clueless morons who desecrate history and mislead the public.

Now, thanks to Conan O'brien, the good doctor may have had the last laugh.

Ah well.

Now, where did I put that peach pie...

Can We Honestly Say that the USCT Story is Still “Forgotten”?

Today I saw an advertisement for an upcoming Civil War event that is taking place in Richmond that features a living history program about USCTs. While it is always gratifying to see that such programs are taking place, the blurb advertising the event mentioned that it would honor “the conflict’s 200,000 unsung heroes.”

Something about that phrase bothered me, and the question that eventually formed in my head was – is it still fair to portray the story of African American Union soldiers using terms like “unsung,” “forgotten,” and “neglected”?

I would gander that such adjectives were appropriate during the 125^th commemorations, but I’m not so sure that they are applicable in 2013. A random sampling of some reasons why I would say this would include:

1. A recent series of blog posts that dealt with the issue of historic sites interpreting the USCT story at places where USCT units did not even serve

2. USCT inclusion in popular Civil War art – something that was once reserved for showing every square foot of territory visited by Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and Nathan Bedford Forrest during the war (indeed, the great Don Troiani has a print coming out in June that shows the 6^th USCT at New Market Heights!)

3. New scholarship on previously overlooked people and battles

4. The fact that United States Colored Troops are front and center in Spielberg’s Lincoln

5. A museum and memorial in Washington DC solely dedicated to the history of US Colored Troops

6. Special events such as the USCT Grand Review in 2010 and the upcoming commemoration of General Orders No. 143 at Arlington National Cemetery on May 18th

Now, I’m in no way suggesting that we have exhausted the field – far from it. But I think we have achieved a level of general awareness of the contributions made by US Colored Troops to stop claiming that they have been relegated to the sidelines of Civil War history.

I don’t fault the event organizers for using such language – having been in the field of public history for 15 years, I certainly sympathize with the person who wrote the advertisement. You’re not going to draw a large crowd by using bland language that doesn’t “hook” the average person who could care less about history.

That being said, what do you think?

Would you still consider the saga of United States Colored Troops a “forgotten” aspect of Civil War history?

USCT Relics, Courtesy of the Old Virginia Blog

I always enjoy reading the thoughts and articles posted by Richard Williams over the Old Virginia Blog, and thought I’d pass along this most recent post about the discovery of some USCT relics.

I’m still fervently hoping to find cool stuff like this in my back yard, but…

Moral Judgments and USCTs

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 21^st 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.

Ed Ayers Rocks: His “Person of the Year: 1863" is the USCT!

Dr. Ed Ayers, Civil War historian extraordinaire and president of the University of Richmond, is currently speaking at the Museum of the Confederacy’s annual “Person of the Year: 1863” Symposium, where some of the most preeminent Civil War scholars in all of the land gather to nominate who they think the most influential person for a given year during the Civil War was.

Dr. Ayers has chosen the United States Colored Troops, stating that we have lost sight of how revolutionary the idea of arming former slaves was in 1863.

It should go without saying that your truly wholeheartedly concurs.

You can follow all of the action on the MOC’s Twitter page here or on Facebook here.

I look forward to hearing the entire presentation when it becomes available.

A Quick Visit to the Revisitation of Interpretive Choices

Over at Crossroads, Brooks Simpson has offered some thoughts about a critical review written by Hari Jones concerning Kate Masur’s November New York Times OP-ED on Spielberg’s Lincoln.

After viewing Lincoln for myself before Thanksgiving, I found myself agreeing with much of what Jones had to say and posted a few thoughts here.

Today’s post by Brooks lays out a clear set of arguments concerning why he thinks Jones was wrong to write what he did about Masur’s critique. He also links to my November post when observing that “my fellow bloggers…may want to consider using the other end of the hammer to yank out that nail,” implying that I might want to rethink my overall support of what Jones said.

In short, I don’t think I will.

To me, all of this boils down to arguing over preference. With no standard criterion for what the film should have been about (in other words, “A Film about Lincoln’s last days must include a, b, c, and d…”), we can only state with certainty what elements we feel should or should not have been included in the film.

Masur’s article stated that “it’s disappointing that in a movie devoted to explaining the abolition of slavery in the United States, African-American characters do almost nothing but passively wait for white men to liberate them” and bemoaned the lack of other key players in the abolition movement. I found the statement about passivity absurd, considering that the movie began with USCTs fighting for their freedom.

Hari Jones took serious issue with the criticism that Frederick Douglass was not included in the film and said that Masur was quibbling with Spielberg because her choices were different than his.

What gives wiggle room to both Masur and Jones is what many people considered a main weakness of Lincoln in the first place – namely, that it bit off more than it could chew. As Brooks notes, “events during the movie move forward all the way to Lincoln’s assassination, including a reading of the Second Inaugural Address.: the passage of the [13^th] amendment is a focus, but not the only one.” While mainly a story about the struggle over the 13^th Amendment, Lincoln tries to cram a lot of other information into the finale and it is dubious as to whether or not this is effective.  

So I’d say it is as equally valid to take issue with Lincoln over a dearth of fleshed-out African American characters as it is to suggest that Frederick Douglass would not be a good fit for the story that Kushner and Spielberg were trying to tell.

In order to sort through all of this, perhaps it will help the reader to read all of the abovementioned posts and reviews in the order they came out:

1. Kate Masur’s Review, November 12, 2012

2. Hari Jones Responds, November 23, 2012.

3. I link to Jones with my own additional thoughts, November 23, 2012.

4. Brooks Simpson revisits the issue, February 22, 2013.

Before giving any additional thoughts, I’m going to use this as blatant excuse to view Lincoln one more time. Thankfully, I have a friend who’s a member of the Screen Actors Guild who can loan me a DVD (bwa-ha-ha!)

And as always, I’m interested in what you think.

Who do you agree with most?

Or are we all full of it?

Profile in Courage: Henry Jarvis, 55th Massachusetts Volunteers

In May of 1861 Henry Jarvis, a recently escaped slave, sailed across the James River and claimed asylum in the Union-held citadel of Fortress Monroe. The spot where Jarvis took refuge was also, by remarkable coincidence, the spot where the institution of slavery first took root in 1619, when a Dutch ship landed with 20 African captives. Prior to his escape, Jarvis had this to say of his master:

"My marssa, he war de meanest man on all de Easte’n sho’, and dat’s a heap to say. It’s a rough place. Dat yer Easte’n sho’m de outbeatinest part ob all de countryfur dem doin’s. Dey don’t think so much ob deir niggers as dey do ob deir dogs. D’ rather whip one dan eat any day."

One day, after his master arbitrarily shot at him, Henry escaped into the woods where he lived off the land for three weeks, trying to avoid the search parties that went looking for him. After stealing a canoe, he sailed across the bay and arrived the next morning at Fortress Monroe.

 

While most of the recently escaped slaves that were flocking to Union lines were content to celebrate their tentative freedom and adopt a "wait-and-see" attitude, Jarvis had something altogether different on his mind and he promptly sought an audience with Gen. Benjamin F. Butler – the future "Beast of New Orleans."

In Jarvis’s words, "I went to [Butler] an’ asked him to let me enlist, but he said it warn’t a black man’s war. I tol’ him it would be a black man’s war ‘fore dey got fru." After that remarkable encounter, Jarvis left the US, traveling first to Cuba and thence to Liberia, where he said he "looked about, but I ‘cluded I’d rudder come home."

After two years abroad, Jarvis entered the US at Boston harbor in May of 1863 only to discover that Lincoln had proclaimed emancipation and "it had got to be a black man’s war fo suah." Jarvis attempted to enlist in the famed 54^th Massachusetts, but found that the regiment’s ranks had been filled. However, the surplus of men who had attempted to join the 54^th was used as the nucleus of a brand-new regiment – the 55^th Massachusetts. The 55^th would fight at places such as Olustee in Florida, and on November 30, 1864, a desperate clash at Honey Hill, SC.

It was here that Jarvis was wounded three times and left on the field for dead. Jarvis later recalled that:

"Dere I war wounded free times; fust in dis arm, but I kep’ on fightin’ till a ball struck my leg an’ I fell. I war struck once more in de same leg, an’ I lay on de fiel’ all night. I should have bled to death ef all our men hadn’t been drilled in usin’ a tourniquet, an’ supplied wid bandages. I jes had time to stick my knife in de knot an’ twist it tight ‘fore I fainted."

Jarvis was deemed to be two-thirds disabled and was given a medical discharge. After returning to Hampton, "de woun’ opened agin’, an’ I had to lose my leg arter all."

After the war, Jarvis returned to the Hampton area and was settled down with his wife and two children. He also came to faith in Christ when his fighting days were over. Following this conversion experience, he was asked if he had forgiven his former master. After a momentary struggle, Jarvis shot up straight as a ramrod in his chair and said, “"es, sah! I’se forgub him; de Lord knows I’se forgub him!"

His change of heart proclaimed, Jarvis couldn’t help but add – "But I’d gib my oder leg to meet him in battle!"

"From Emancipation to the March on Washington" Panel Discussion

"From Emancipation to the March on Washington" is a Black History Month panel discussion set for 7 p.m., Monday, Feb. 18 in Sealy Auditorium in the Workforce & Technology Building on Germanna Community College's Fredericksburg Area Campus in Spotsylvania. The event, which is open to the public, free, will feature the Rev. Lawrence A. Davies, former mayor of Fredericksburg, and Germanna history faculty members Stuart Smith, Ed Watson and James Price.