A walk through the fields of history.....

I had a day off from the yakkin' yesterday, and I had great plans; I was going to go over the river and see a few sights. I had planned them out in advance, and they had significance to me, personally. I was going to walk the Korean War Memorial, just to pay my respects to my name-giver. Then, I was going to mosey over to Ford's Theatre, to pay my respects to the ghosts of Miss Keene and Mr. Lincoln.

But I changed my mind. Instead I headed south to Manassas, to view the first battlefield of the War Between the States.

I have always had an affinity for this particular battle; it was the moment when all the noble posturing fell away, and the reality of war set in, to our lasting detriment. Boys became men; men became memories; and a few of those memories became legends.

Don't be confused; back in the day, the Union and Confederate troops had different ways of naming battlefields; the Union tended to use landmarks, like rivers, crossings, roads, etc....where the Confederates tended to use towns. The Rebs called this battle Manassas (actually, they eventually called it FIRST Manassas, because they fought there again about a year later) and the Union called in Bull Run, after a creek nearby.

My affinity, as I mentioned before, comes from three sources. The first one is that I'm attracted to stories of bravery and nobility, even in the face of overwhelming odds, or futility. The way the Confederates won that battle after so many setbacks suggests that they had that passion that can separate the winners from the shouldawonners. Of course, they had incredible leadership; the most famous of those was Thomas Jackson, an artillery expert who received his famous nickname when he came out of the treeline with his brace of cannon, setting them up under a hail of canister shot and minie balls from the Union Army less than 500 yards away.

"See how Jackson stands there like a Stone Wall! Rally, men, behind the Virginians!"

To see the scope of the battlefield; where the union came from, where the rebs set their cannon, the houses that stood on the field and the men and women who lived in them, even where the spectators sat and picnicked as all this went on....it's truly amazing, and I'm grateful to the states and the country for setting these fields aside so that we can walk them again, and hear the calls to action, and the sound like distant thunder.....

There is another reason for my affinity for this battle. I'm a romantic at the heart of it; I enjoy tails of derring-do, sacrifice for the greater cause, and yes, I do believe in love as a catalyst for change. And that brings me to Sullivan Ballou.

On the eve of this battle, he wrote a letter to his wife. It's one of the most amazing letters I've ever written, and I end with it.

July 14,1861
Camp Clark, Washington DC

Dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days - perhaps tomorrow. And lest I should not be able to write you again I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I am no more.

I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing - perfectly willing - to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence can break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with all those chains to the battlefield. The memory of all the blissful moments I have enjoyed with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them for so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes and future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and see our boys grown up to honorable manhood around us.

If I do not return, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I loved you, nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name...

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have sometimes been!...

But, 0 Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you, in the brightest day and in the darkest night... always, always. And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath, or the cool air your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again...