Monument to the 1st Pennsylvania Cavalry on Cemetery Ridge at Gettysburg. Photo by Andy Turner

Monument to the 2nd Company of Massachusetts Sharpshooters, also known as Andrews’ Sharpshooters, on Sickles Avenue at Gettysburg. Photo by Andy Turner

The Putnam Stump at Shiloh. Pvt. John D. Putnam, Company F, 14th Wisconsin, was killed during the second day of battle at Shiloh, April 7, 1862. He was buried where he fell, at the base of an oak tree. One of the burying party suggested they carve Putnam’s name low on the tree so it would remain on the stump if the tree were cut down. Because of the carving, Putnam’s was one of the few bodies identified when it was moved to the national cemetery at the battlefield. When the Wisconsin Shiloh Monument Commission visited the battlefield in 1901, they saw the tree had been cut down but the name remained on the stump. It was decided to replace the stump with a granite reproduction to mark the location. Photo by Andy Turner

The Future of the Civil War

by Andy Turner

Today’s feature is going in a different direction from the articles we’ve published here so far. Instead of looking at events of the past, let’s look at the present and even the future. Two days ago, on Tuesday morning, I was at Van Buren Middle School in Kettering, Ohio, at 5:30 in the morning. While some of you might think that sounds a little crazy, more of you might think so when you find out that I was there to help chaperone 167 8th graders on a four-day trip to Gettysburg and Washington, D.C.

The fact that someone would willingly subject themselves to spending four days with 167 thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds probably qualifies them for a healthy dose of happy pills from the doctor to get them back in their right mind. And this isn’t like teaching, where you spend six or seven hours a day with them before going home. It’s from 6:30 in the morning until 9:30 to 10:00 at night each day, non-stop, on the go, all day. But I love it.

I spent nine years teaching middle school kids at Van Buren and it was I, along with the other 8th grade social studies teacher (who shall remain nameless to protect the guilty) who started the trip to Gettysburg and D.C. Even though I am no longer teaching there, they still invite me along every year and I wouldn’t miss it.

Now this isn’t some private academy where all of the kids are young geniuses who are motivated to learn anything and everything. It’s a regular, ordinary school with every sort and type of kid, who all have the opportunity to go on this trip. It would be nice to think that all of them who go are eager to see the places we visit and learn something about what is there, but I realize most of them are going because (a) their friends are going and (b) it gets them away from home for four days, period. How dare we ask them to actually learn anything.

Considering the trip begins with a ten-hour ride on a charter bus, that can’t be a motivating factor for any chaperone wanting to go. (Especially if it rains. Nothing smells worse than wet dog except maybe wet 8th grader, especially 45 of them crammed on one bus. One of the last instructions before they go home the day before the trip is to make sure they put on their deodorant in the morning.)

So why is it that I, or anyone else involved, would do this? I can’t speak for others, but for me, it’s about the future. I firmly believe that everyone who lives in this country should visit the nation’s capital at least once in their life. I feel about the same way towards Gettysburg. While I’ll not argue that it was the most important event or battle of the Civil War, opinions differ on that, it was a big one and is uniquely set up to handle large groups of kids and help interpret the history for them. I’m sure there are kids on the trip each year who would never make it to D.C. if they didn’t go with us and many more who would never visit Gettysburg.

The popularity of Civil War history has been in a bit of a lull for a number of years. After reaching new heights in the 1990s, spurred on by things like the movie Glory, Ken Burns’ PBS series, and the movie Gettysburg, interest in the Civil War has been on the decline. One part of this has been renewed interest in World War II. This is understandable as the veterans of that war are reaching the ends of their lives in increasing numbers. Now is an important time to remember and gather as much as possible from the people who experienced World War II before they’re all gone.

The Civil War has been getting more publicity of late, and will for a few more years, from its 150th anniversary. Once that is over in 2015, the level of interest in the Civil War may face a new challenge. While it is a topic of American history that has always been popular and has seen increases and decreases over the last 150 years, it will depend on the next generation of young people getting interested to remain a strong part of this nation’s character.

The greatest challenge may be from the fact that kids now have an ever increasing number of options and opportunities on how to spend their time. With the rate at which technology is evolving, I don’t see that changing any time soon. So whatever we can do to introduce and encourage an interest in the Civil War in others, especially young people, I think is a good thing. I’m certainly not saying everyone should volunteer to go on a trip with their local school to Gettysburg or Washington, D.C. Most of you are too sane to do that. But any time you have an opportunity to share your interest in the war with others, please do so. If you can spark an interest in someone, they just might thank you for it.

Even though a lot of the kids on this trip aren’t tremendous history buffs, there are those who are genuinely excited about the places and history behind them. Many more get excited when they are there and experience for themselves some of the truly moving places we see: the Soldiers’ National Cemetery at Gettysburg, the field of Pickett’s Charge, the Vietnam Memorial, Arlington National Cemetery, the Grave of the Unknown Soldier, and more. If by going on this trip we can spark an interest in just a few of the students that wasn’t there before, it was worth it.

By the way, does something smell funny on this bus?

A gun from Lt. James Stewart’s Battery B, 4th U.S. Artillery, on East Cemetery Hill with the Evergreen Cemetery gatehouse in the background. Photo by Sonny Fulks

Monument to Capt. Elijah D. Taft’s 5th New York Independent Battery in the Soldiers’ National Cemetery at Gettysburg. Photo by Andy Turner

Ruggles’ batteries at Shiloh. The 62 cannon that Brig. Gen. Daniel Ruggles assembled to shell the Hornet’s Nest was the largest line of artillery ever formed in an American battle up to that time. Photo by Andy Turner

Gravestone of Sgt. Frederick Huber in Evergreen Cemetery at Gettysburg. Huber, a Gettysburg native, was killed at the Battle of Fair Oaks in 1862. His parents retrieved his body for burial in his hometown. During the Battle of Gettysburg, Huber’s stone was hit by artillery and damaged. His father didn’t want the stone repaired or replaced as he thought it was “an everlasting tribute to both the Freedom of the Nation and the Battle of Gettysburg.” Photo by Henry Ballone

The Battle of Gaines' Mill, from Harper's Weekly

When people experience traumatic events, they can explain them to others, but someone else can never truly understand it without having experienced it for themselves. Even if they experience the same event, two people might react and interpret it in a different way.

When Oliver Willcox Norton wrote to his brother and sister and tried to answer their question of how he felt at the Battle of Gaines’ Mill, he tried to explain it. Eventually he came to the fact that “No one can ever know exactly till he has been through it.”

In 1903 Norton published a book of his letters from the war for private distribution. He wanted to preserve a record of his service in the war for his children and friends. Later reprinted in 1990, Army Letters 1861-1865 offers good insight into the life of a soldier during the war. Below is part of the letter addressed to his brother and sister, written July 26, 1862, in which he tries to answer their question.

Oliver Willcox Norton, December 1863

You ask me how I felt when the battle commenced, if I feared I should fall, etc. That is a very hard question to answer. In the fight at Gaines’ Mill I had lain in the woods almost all day waiting for them before I saw a rebel. They had been shelling us all the time, and occasionally a shell would burst within a few feet of me and startle me a little, but we had so strong a position and felt so certain of driving the rebels off that I was anxious to have them come on. The last words I heard Colonel [John W.] McLane say were, “You’ll see enough of them before night, boys.” His words proved too true. We had but little to do with repulsing them, for they did not come within range of our guns either time, but we could hear the firing, and, when the cheers of our men announced their victory, a feeling of exultation ran through our minds. “Come on,” we thought, “we’ll show you how freemen fight,” but when they attacked us so unexpectedly in the rear, my feelings changed. Surprise at first and a wonder how they could get there, and then, when the truth flashed through my mind that they had broken through our lines, a feeling of shame and indignations against the men who would retreat before the enemy. Then, when the colonel was killed and Henry [Bushnell] and Denny wounded, I felt some excited. I was stronger than I had been before in a month and a kind of desperation seized me. Scenes that would have unnerved me at other times had no effect. I snatched a gun from the hands of a man who was shot through the head, as he staggered and fell. At other times I would have been horror-struck and could not have moved, but then I jumped over dead men with as little feeling as I would over a log. The feeling that was uppermost in my mind was a desire to kill as many rebels as I could. The loss of comrades maddened me, the balls flew past me hissing in the air, they knocked my guns to splinters, but the closer they came they seemed to make me more insensible to fear. I had no time to think of anything but my duty to do all I could to drive back the enemy, and it was not duty that kept me there either, but a feeling that I had a chance then to help put down secession and a determination to do my best. My heart was in the fight, and I couldn’t be anywhere else. I told you it was hard to describe one’s feelings in a battle, and it is. No one can ever know exactly till he has been through it. In the fight at Malvern Hill my feelings were a little different. The memory of the scenes of the past few days was fresh in my mind, and as I marched up the hill that concealed us from the enemy, I must admit I felt a reluctance, rather a fear of going in. We were so worn out by excitement, fatigue, and want of sleep, that there was not the spirit in the movement of the men that usually characterized them, but there was the bitter determination to do or die. We would not falter, let the

Post-war photo of Norton

consequences be what they might. [Brig. Gen. Daniel] Butterfield and [Brig. Gen. Charles] Griffin dashed here and there, cheering on the men—“Go in, my gallant Eighty-third, and give ’em h—l,” yelled Butterfield as he dashed along the line, and his inspiring manner cheered the men up. We rushed over the hill on the double quick and there were the rebels. Column behind column was swarming out of the woods and advancing on us. Ten times our number were opposed to us. There were so many that they had not room to deploy, but came up in close column. Their intention evidently was to send such an overwhelming force against us, that, if we killed twice our number, there would be enough left to drive us from the field and capture our batteries. They were perfectly reckless of life and bent on driving us off, cost what it might. We went part way down the hill to meet them, so that our artillery could fire over us, then we waited for them. The hill behind us was covered with cannon in two rows and as they advanced our artillerists poured in such deadly charges of grape that it was more than any troops could stand. Each discharge would mow a swath through their lines, from five to eight feet wide. Still they closed up their ranks and came on till they met our fire, and then they wavered. We poured it into them as fast as we could load and fire, and I tell you my fear was gone then. I felt exultant. We cheered and cheered and shouted our watchword—“Remember McLane,” and the rebels, disheartened, fell back. Butterfield’s expression of “give ’em hell” was not inapt. It was more like the work of fiends than that of human beings. The roar of the artillery, the rattling of musketry and the unearthly screaming of the great two-foot shells from the gunboats made such music as is only fit for demons, and the appearance of the men was scarcely human. The sweat rolled in streams, for there is nothing like fighting to heat a man’s blood, and as the men wiped their faces with powder-grimed or bloody hands, they left the most horrible looking countenances you ever saw. But no one cared for looks or sound. That roar of artillery was the sweetest music I ever heard, for it carried death and terror to the enemies of our country and our flag. I said the rebels retreated—they fell back out of range of our infantry, formed again and again came up. Fiercer grew the conflict and our excitement rose with it. Our men fell thick and fast, and wounded men were all the time crawling to the rear, but we did not heed them. We sat there and fought till our ammunition was gone and we had to fill up from the boxes of our dead and wounded comrades, and still we had no thought of leaving, but another brigade relieved us and we retired. Then came the reaction. I must say that the time when one feels the horrors of war most keenly is after the battle, not before it or in it.

Guns of Capt. William Arnold’s Battery A, 1st Rhode Island Light Artillery at the Angle at Gettysburg. Photo by Andy Turner