CSotD: War and Remembrance
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Steve Benson offers this take on a House bill that would forbid display of the Confederate flag in VA cemeteries.
My initial response was that, while I agree in principle, I know of one cemetery that might be an exception: Woodlawn National Cemetery in Elmira, NY, in which are buried the remains of nearly 3,000 Confederate soldiers who died in the nearby POW camp.
My instinctive reaction was not based on any affection for the Lost Cause or traitors in general, but for the unique story of that particular cemetery.
For the past several years, Christopher Baldwin and I have produced a history-based serial for the New York State News Publishers Association. In 2012, it was decided that we needed to touch on the Civil War and also that it was time for a female lead.
Not an easy combination, given that most of what happened in the Civil War took place a long way from New York in an era when even plucky little girls didn't travel a whole lot.
But an idea emerged of a little girl in Elmira, NY, whose brother is a POW at Andersonville and therefore has a little girl's bitter hatred for the Confederates housed in the local POW camp, until (yes, predictably) she is faced with an escaped prisoner and has to view him as a person and not a symbol.
That's fiction, but a main character in the story was very real: John Jones, an escaped slave and active conductor on the Underground Railroad, who lived in Elmira and was sexton of a local church.
Specifically, Jones had the job of burying dead prisoners at the local cemetery.
In the story, as in history, his life stood as an example of compassion, and a central motif was her inability to fathom why he did not share her bitter hatred of the "Rebs."
Jones didn't just bury the POWs: He kept careful track of each man's resting spot and, moreover, fastened a small bottle around the neck of each of them, with a slip inside bearing the man's name and unit number.
Though he was only able to erect wooden markers at the time, his careful notes allowed for gravestones to later replace those boards.
When the war ended, there was an understandable desire by those families on both sides who could afford it to bring their dead home, but most of the Southerners who visited Woodlawn were so touched by the dignity with which their sons, husbands and brothers had been laid to rest that they chose to leave them there among their comrades, and, if you go to Elmira, you can see the POWs, row upon row, where a former slave treated them with a level of compassion it is, indeed, hard to fathom.
You'll also see a memorial erected in the 1930s by the Daughters of the Confederacy to honor their dead.
What you won't see is the flag of their rebellion, and, as I thought about it, I realized that such a defiant gesture would not dignify, but, in fact, would negate the story of compassion and forgiveness that makes John Jones' story, and Woodlawn National Cemetery itself, such an unusual and touching memorial.
Point to Breen, and to Congress.
There are a number of stories of how Memorial Day began, but, having read the newspapers of the time, I can say that, what these early post-war commemorations had in common was a sense of reconciliation, in which former soldiers of both sides met once more, in peace, and were able to put aside the details of division and focus on their shared experience.
As thrice-wounded Union officer, and later Supreme Court Justice, Oliver Wendall Holmes put it:
We attribute no special merit to a man for having served when all were serving. We know that, if the armies of our war did anything worth remembering, the credit belongs not mainly to the individuals who did it, but to average human nature. We also know very well that we cannot live in associations with the past alone, and we admit that, if we would be worthy of the past, we must find new fields for action or thought, and make for ourselves new careers. But, nevertheless, the generation that carried on the war has been set apart by its experience. Through our great good fortune, in our youth our hearts were touched with fire. It was given to us to learn at the outset that life is a profound and passionate thing.
Editor's Notes:
There's nothing left of the old prison camp, but Chris and I spent time with a delightful, well-informed curator at the Chemung County Historical Society who provided us with an abundance not only of information but of insights.
For instance, while I was busily snapping photos of original documents and old news stories about John Jones and the prison camp, Chris asked her if she had any information on the clothing styles of children in that era.
She disappeared for a moment and, to his surprise and delight, came back with a long, narrow box chock-full of photos of Civil-War-era kids.
Nor was that untypical. She provided us with all sorts of fascinating insights and materials, and we came out of there vibrating with new ideas about how the story was going to unfold.
I can't tell you how much depth our simple story gained by that visit, but, with the current flood of both children's literature and graphic history, there has never been a better time to remind everyone of the essential formula: 10% inspiration, 90% perspiration.
If you hate the homework part, you're doing it wrong.
Remembering the Ladies
Just as John Jones, under scrutiny, became larger than his original status as a plot device, so also did the fictional young widow in the story — initially only a foil against whose acceptance we could contrast our young protagonist's fury — become a huge factor upon further investigation.
We learned that — as one might expect upon even a moment's reflection — when you kill more than a half-million young men, you create an unprecedented flood of young widows, as noted in the teaching guide for the series.
For further reading:
If you're curious to see the sorts of things Chris and I produce, another of our stories, this one about a young artist in the War of 1812, is currently running in the publication I edit for the Denver Post. The nine-chapter serial has just started, so start here and then check back each Tuesday for the next exciting episode. (Bonus: The May 31 issue will also include a review of the new X-Men movie and before the serial story ends, we'll have also covered Denver ComicCon.)
Different war, same story
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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