By Nathan Grote
IV Leader Editor, Oct. 6, 2011
Part 2
I woke up that Sunday morning that I was to depart to a warm
sunrise. I had planned to be on the road at 6 a.m., but hadn’t begun stirring
until about then.
As it happened, I should have gotten up earlier. Somewhere
between taking a shower and packing my cooler, the weather had taken a turn for
the worst. Just as soon as I began loading things into my car, the dark clouds
let loose in a downpour. I wondered if this was a bad omen, then remembered that
I’m too much of a realist for that.
So off I went. My route utilized the Indiana, Ohio, and
Pennsylvania turnpikes to whisk me straight through to the eastern part of the
country.
Coming off the Pennsylvania turnpike just outside Harrisburg,
I found a place to stay. After working out the cramps of a 700-mile drive in the
hotel pool, I got to bed early and set my alarm for the top of the morning.
So at 10 a.m. the next day, I had checked out and was on my
way to Harrisburg. Yeah, I slept in. But, hey, I was on vacation.
Once in town, I headed up to the National Civil War Museum.
The place is a medium-sized (by museum standards) red brick building that sits
on a hilltop in the middle of the city.
At the center of the courtyard outside the front doors, I
came upon a striking scene.
This statue, titled “Moment of Mercy,” tells the story of
Confederate Sergeant Richard R. Kirkland of the 2nd South Carolina Infantry. At
the Battle of Fredericksburg, this 19-year-old soldier, moved by the cries of
wounded men lying across the battlefield, took up as many canteens as he could
carry and crossed the Confederate line to tend to Union soldiers.
Inside the museum, the early 1860’s are brought to life
through period artifacts and audible dioramas. Scenes recreated include soldiers
firing a mortar the size of a garbage can, a Union campsite where letters are
written and songs are sung, a heart wrenching slave auction, and a few others.
As illustrative and well done as these scenes are, the actual
150-year-old items are at the heart of the exhibit. The simple fact that any one
bayonet or officer’s jacket saw time in either army’s ranks demands a certain
reverence.
Just inside those display cases are direct links from you to
someone living in history- the doctor who carried his pocket surgical kit to
treat a barn-full of wailing men, the young soldier who spent days ramming a
swab down a scalding cannon barrel, the general whose right glove is solely on
display because a minie ball tore through his left.
Deeper into the museum, the familiar rifles and inert
artillery shells give way to the more obscure, peculiar, and fascinating pieces
and stories of the war. Invention and improvement were moving along at a fast
pace before and during this time, and there is much evidence of that.
The museum calls to attention many technological firsts that
came about in this period. I had known of the impact of things like rifling and
railways, but here I learned of the first use of rail-mounted artillery,
battlefield use of hot air balloons for spotting, the first improvised land
mines, and the surgeon who coated his implements with whiskey in hopes of
deadening the pain of his patients, inadvertently pioneering the practice of
sterilization.
But as far as unconventional sights on the battlefield go, I
was most surprised by the more primitive examples. Well, not primates exactly —
more like chickens, eagles, and camels.
In a special section of the museum dedicated to animals who
served during the war, I learned of General Robert E. Lee’s prized hen that was
accidentally served to a meeting of Lee’s senior officers.
Then there was Old Abe, a bald eagle who could be found
walking around the camp of a Wisconsin regiment and screeching high above the
battlefield when they engaged in combat. And perhaps the most unorthodox sight
on any Civil War battlefield was the Confederate camel who served as a reliable
pack animal to the 43rd Mississippi regiment.
Leaving the museum, my mind was mostly working on how the
remnants of the Civil War would shape the country in the decades to come.
The museum is arranged chronologically, and leaves the patron
with the beginnings of the Reconstruction era to consider.
Then as I once again found myself in front of the
immortalized Sergeant Kirkland, all of the things I had just seen coalesced into
something profound to me.
Americans before us had won their independence from a foreign
power, defended their fledgling nation, built a solid union, and prospered. And
when the political fight over states’ rights pitted Americans against Americans
on a previously unseen scale, the very American tenants of determination and
innovation spurred on a horrendous four year war of opposing principles.
But then here was this man before me who, despite the risks
and the stakes, decided that he wasn’t going to stand by while others, friend
and enemy alike, suffered before him.
And here I think is where we cultivate the American spirit —
using our resources and resolve to achieve our aspired ends, and ultimately
having the good sense and compassion to help and safeguard our neighbors in
need.
And so, primed by my hours at the National Civil War Museum,
I headed south to a town you may have heard of: Gettysburg.
*****
Editor’s Note: This is the second in a multi-part series examining a summer
road trip to Civil War sites.