Today, while frantically trying to keep four printers running, booklet a few hundred instruction manuals, stack and prepare for shipping a few pallets, supervise the insertion of tabs into a catalog, fold thousands of flyers, and cut up advertisement cards, all the while trying to keep things acceptably neat amidst the clutter of a massively overcrowded workspace, I started in on my next book on tape, a fascinating look at the Civil War by Gary Gallagher.
The first major battle of the Civil War was the Battle of First Bull Run (or First Manassas). In this clash, the Union forces attempted to end the war quickly by destroying the Confederacies only large fighting units in the east, clearing the way for the conquest of Richmond, the Confederacy’s capital. Each side had two main armies in the theater, and both tried to hold the center while attempting to turn their enemies left flank. The Confederates were slower putting their plan into action and the Union soldiers broke the Confederate’s line and pushed them back to make a stand on Henry House Hill. It was here that Confederate troops rallied around General Thomas Jackson and first gave him the nickname “Stonewall.” While the Confederates held on Henry House Hill, reinforcements were rushed in by railroad. With these fresh troops, the Confederates were able to turn the tide of the battle and went on to win a major victory. While the battle is interesting tactically, the actions of the soldiers wasn’t what really piqued my interest.
The first thing that really struck me about this battle was Henry House Hill. This hill got its name by virtue of being the site of the Henry family’s house. At the time of the battle, the house was occupied by the bed-ridden widow, Mrs. Judith Hunt. Early in the battle, she was mortally wounded by a Union cannon ball which smashed through her bedroom and showered her with splinters. Outside, her son was fighting with the Confederate soldiers holding the hill and as he fought wept and screamed, “They’ve killed my mother!” I cannot imagine what it would be like to fight a battle in my own yard, knowing that my enemies had just killed a member of my family. This story reminds me of the skirmish at Lexington Green that opened the War for Independence when men of Lexington fought the British regulars on the town square abutting some of their houses. Men who were shot staggered a few steps into their homes to die in the arms of their families. I’m not sure why these stories stand out to me above all the other heartbreaking stories of war but they do.
The second thing that really captured my attention was the fact that Northerners, mostly from around Washington D.C. came in huge numbers to watch the battle, bringing their families and picnic baskets. I had of course read about this many times in the past, but today was the first time I really spent much time pondering it. Is it just me or does the idea of taking your kids to watch men be torn in half by cannonballs while munching on PBJs sound like a horrible field trip? Leaving aside the danger of stray munitions, what kind of people go out to watch men die for fun? Looking at things from another perspective, if I were a Union soldier marching up Henry hill over the dead bodies of my friends through a hail of rifle bullets, knowing that I could be killed or maimed at any moment, I don’t think I’d appreciate being someone’s day-off-from-work entertainment. On the other side, poor Mr. Hunt fought knowing that when the cannonball crashed through his mother’s house, spectators on the hill were clapping and cheering.
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