The arctic cold wave mercifully lifted last week, so I took the opportunity to take a quick trip out to historic Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Visiting in January meant it wasn't crowded, and winter hotel rates allowed me to stay in a decent room at a surprisingly low rate. I didn't even bring a digital camera, so you're seeing this the requisite week and a half later for Kodachrome processing.
Gettysburg National Military Park marks the site of the most famous battle of the Civil War with more statues and monuments and plaques than you could possibly count, some placed by veterans of the battle in honor of their fallen comrades. A car tour is mapped out and well-marked, visiting all the highlights in the park, which surrounds and mingles in with the actual town of Gettysburg.
I think this is a uniquely American experience; the battle was one of the more significant events in our country's history, but the context would likely be lost on a foreign tourist. High school history tells us what happened here: it was the “high water mark” of the Confederacy, the turning point of the war, and 51,000 Americans were killed in the three-day battle. To put that number into context, a bit more than 58,000 Americans were killed in the entire Vietnam war.
The landscape here is covered in monuments. Every unit that fought here is memorialized, with numbers of casualties listed: the small numbers are oddly more powerful than the large, a unit of some dozens of men, half or more of whom fell. Units were organized regionally then, so when names are listed alphabetically, it's brother after brother, like some kind of family roster, unit by unit along the Union and Confederate lines. Cannons are placed in the battle's many artillery positions, and statues of significant participants are strategically placed at the sites of their heroism.
It's one thing to read an abstract, written account of the battle, but standing where it took place is another. The terrain is now as it was then, and I can easily imagine what the soldiers saw. Every account of the battle notes that General Longstreet predicted Pickett's Charge would have taken a miracle to succeed, and was a tactical blunder, but standing where it happened, I can see what Longstreet saw: that the Rebels were going to get cut down.
Little Round Top is particularly fascinating. This hill, on the Union left flank, was possibly the most important position on the battlefield, and standing atop it, I can see why: it commands a view of the entire valley, and much of the battlefield. A statue stands atop a large rock, of Brigadier General Gouverneur K. Warren, the Union chief engineer, looking out across the valley. During the battle, General Warren discovered that this hill was undefended, and saw Confederate forces ready to attack the Union flank; he rushed to find soldiers to hold the hill, probably saving the day for the Union.
I can see what General Warren saw: that tree line where the Rebels were is within sniper range. Confederate sharpshooters using scoped rifles could shoot a man on this hill from a concealed position. Suddenly those big rocks look very important.
Standing at the bottom of Little Round Top, I can see what the Rebels were up against. It's not a large hill: it rises about 150 feet from the valley floor. But the rocky terrain makes it formidable. I wouldn't want to climb this thing without anyone shooting at me. This was an important hill indeed.
A real Civil War buff, which I am not, could probably spend days here.
Gettysburg, of course, is also the site of the Gettysburg National Cemetery, where soldiers from many wars are laid to rest. The dedication of this cemetery was the occasion of Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Nearly a thousand unknown soldiers are buried here.
But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.
Well said, Mr. President.
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