Courage under Fire : Profiles in Bravery from the Battlefields of the Civil War

by Wiley Sword

• ISBN13: 9780312367411
• ISBN10: 0312367414
• Format: Trade Book
• Copyright: 2007-11-13
• Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Summary

Through diaries and letter written on the battlefield, in camps, and on the deathbeds of soldiers from north and south, Wiley Sword, writes about more than the Civil War. He writes of the complex working of a soldier's mind coming to grips with life and death in a time when his country was at war with itself. On Aug. 3, 1864, Illinois Lieutenant Frank Curtiss was ordered by his commander to take the 127th Illinois Infantry into a charge of the fortified Rebel lines. He knew certain death was in store for him and his men. He also knew little tactical superiority would be gained for lives lost and refused to do it. Confederate Brigadier General Patrick Cleburne, one of the South's greatest military tacticians, left diaries showing he was striving to refine his methods to save lives while winning battles. And then there is the Rhode Island Regiment's Major Sullivan Ballou who, in 1861 on the eve of the battle of Bull Run who wrote of courage and dedication to his cause. Wiley Sword constructs a picture of the military mind that still resonates in today's wars.

Author Biography

WILEY SWORD is the author of several Civil War histories, including Mountains Touched with Fire and Southern Invincibility. He is a Fletcher Pratt Prize Award-winner and has been nominated numerous other prizes, including the Pulitzer. He lives in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments	p. xi
Preface: Why the Civil War or Its Courage?	p. xiii
The Face of Courage
To Obey Orders or Not	p. 3
The Reason Why	p. 8
"To Win Glory Enough"	p. 16
The Face of Courage	p. 28
Two Wars in Concept	p. 37
Ordeal at Atlanta	p. 44
Pat Cleburne, a Man Who Understood	p. 52
What Do You Say When You Know You're About to Die?	p. 64
Physical Bravery
Extraordinary Bravery, a Special Virtue	p. 83
"The Sun Shines Brightly; I See It for the Last Time"	p. 102
"Rally 'Roun de Flag, Boys": The 13th U.S. Colored Troops at Nashville	p. 115
A Woman's Ordeal: Coping on the Home Front	p. 123
Of Agony Extended and Endured	p. 133
Of Valor Less Than Glory	p. 140
The Workings of the Mind	p. 146
Our Consciousness Prevails	p. 163
Doing What Is Right	p. 170
Cowardice, Courage's Cousin	p. 182
What Kind of Courage?	p. 193
Moral Courage
Decisions of Courage	p. 203
Shiloh: The Roll of the Dice	p. 210
Robert E. Lee, a Man for All Ages	p. 224
What Is Justified Caution?	p. 233
A Tale of Two Presidents	p. 240
The Unthinkable	p. 249
Coping Amid the Shadows	p. 261
Matters of Enlightenment	p. 269
The Role of Courage Today	p. 272
Notes	p. 277
Bibliography	p. 295
Index of Military Units	p. 303
General Index	p. 306
Table of Contents provided by Ingram. All Rights Reserved.

Excerpts

Chapter 1

 

August 3, 1864, was not proving to be a good day for Frank Curtiss. He was sweating profusely because the Illinois lieutenant colonel faced a big problem. He had been ordered by the senior (brigade) commanding officer, Brigadier General Joseph Andrew Jackson Lightburn, to take his regiment, the 127th Illinois Infantry, and charge the fortified Rebel lines across an open field near Atlanta, Georgia. Curtiss knew what was in store. His skirmishers had already attempted to attack the enemy’s pickets across the same field. They had started off with a yell, aiming at the dusky brown line of improvised earthworks. Halfway across the field, it seemed as if all hell had exploded in their faces. Ten Confederate cannon, firing deadly shotgunlike blasts of canister, had raked the sprinting lines of blue-clad soldiers. Minié balls had zipped about like angry swarms of bees. Seven of fifty men were downed in an instant, and the remainder had scattered in confusion back to the Union lines.

Before the attack Curtiss’s palms were sweaty. Now the oppressive Georgia heat added to the ache in his heart. If he took his men out there again, perhaps not a man would survive. Yet Curtiss carefully considered the situation: Lightburn was waiting impatiently, his brigadier general’s stars glistening on gilded shoulder straps. Obviously the austere and gruff West Virginian saw little merit in Curtiss’s hesitation. He wanted that Rebel skirmish line captured.

Frank Curtiss was no fool. A veteran combat officer with extensive experience, he knew the consequences of making the attack: heavy losses for an insignificant gain. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Lightburn was known to be bucking for a second star and division command, especially since his superior, Major General Morgan L. Smith, was ill and on the verge of leaving the army for home. Moreover, Lightburn was aware that the Army of the Tennessee’s new commander, Major General Oliver O. Howard, was personally present, watching for good results. Lightburn thus wanted bold action that might impress his seniors.

Frank Curtiss wanted only to keep his men alive. They deserved better than to have their lives thrown away in a useless frontal assault that could accomplish nothing to compensate for an outright slaughter. From Arkansas Post to Dallas, Georgia, these men had fought valiantly and suffered accordingly. Their lives were precious, more so than the prospect of a new star for old Lightburn—whom the boys said they “hated worse than a Rebel” for his self-serving ways.

Curtiss’s expression turned grim. Common sense opposed Lightburn’s orders, but it equated to a dire choice: his arrest for disobeying orders, or the death of many of his men. Thus the decision was both simple and complex.

In Frank Curtiss’s mind there really was no choice. He refused to make the attack.

Lightburn’s reaction was like that of a stricken grizzly; swiftly Curtiss was placed under arrest, his sword was confiscated, and the distraught officer was sent to the rear to face dismissal from the army.

Lightburn now angrily turned to the next regiment in line, the 55th Illinois Infantry. The result was the same. The captain commanding (the senior officers were casualties) decided he, too, would not make such a forlorn attack. When the third regiment’s commander also hesitated to charge, Lightburn had these officers arrested and was seen galloping off in a huff, apparently damning the ill luck that had brought him command of such independent-minded units.1

Great moral courage was comparatively rare on the tactical battlefield prior to 1864; experience, if not the ability, was wanting. Knowing what was tactically right or wrong was generally a by-product of personal experience, and hence had to be learned. Yet acting upon that same knowledge frequently involved an extraordinary dilemma. At what point was the right to be implemented, and at what cost? The lessons of three years of increasingly vicious warfare had clarified the means and the issues. Those in the ranks knew, as survivors, what their service had taught: what was or wasn’t practical or possible. Often at issue was a myriad of counterpoints, from what was good judgment, to the implementation of selfish motives or bureaucratic initiatives, to a use of common sense. It was a familiar bane of common soldiers and their units’ officers: coping with the perceived bungling of high-ranking commanders. Those who seemed to know the best were those with the most to gain or lose—their lives. Decisions by those not at risk often involved a far different perspective.

“Cannon fodder” was an outmoded concept even in 1861. “Theirs not to reason why, / Theirs but to do and die” implied a universal theme of compliance amid ignorance. Yet in the mid-nineteenth century the masses were not essentially stupid. With the Industrial Revolution had come an equally fundamental educational revolution. Ordinary people were no longer largely uneducated and thus complaisant amid their relative ignorance. From religious institutions to the military, the implications were enormous. The masses, able to read and write, and stimulated to think by rapid means of communication, were as a maturing apple tree, ready to bear quality fruit where only the yield would be affected by the climate and conditions. Being told what to do now involved a more sophisticated approach—that of rationale. While there were those who relied upon traditional methods to obtain results, they often were less successful than the innovators, the leaders who studied, reasoned, and adapted.

By 1864, the crux of the matter was the evolving war of technology, in which attitudes and traditional concepts were subject to the relative overall wisdom that was applied. Management of the battlefield centered on a new criterion—personnel conservation and efficacy in action. In its most basic meaning, this translated into use of common sense rather than staid, all-but-obsolete textbook concepts. The world was changing. New technology had altered the methodology of war. Thinking had to keep pace. It was a fascinating challenge to those in control—how well could they adapt?

To the men who fought in the trenches during the later stages of the war, the matter of their life or death thus had a new focus; would their lives (being increasingly precious) be truly valued by those in command? Would they be given a fair chance to survive in combat, consistent with the altered, more deadly conditions of modern warfare? Because of the widespread use of more lethal weapons technology, this meant fighting smart.

 

From Today’s Perspective

In achieving victory in battle, the basic reliance for ages has been on military discipline. As such, the focus has always been on the one essential maxim: “Obey orders.” Yet in a “why” context, is it enough to be told what to do on the basis of rank? Perhaps in ordinary circumstances, yes. But ultimately, if human life is the essential value, are there times when risking one’s life is to be weighed against the viability of the endeavor? Traditionally, superior rank has been given full discretion in such matters, but at what point does a higher consideration have sway? Frank Curtiss thought he must act in refusing an order based upon his knowledge and personal experience; he saw the situation at Atlanta on August 3, 1864 as resulting in a useless sacrifice of life. To refuse Lightburn’s mandate was contrary to the oath he had taken to obey the lawful orders of his superiors, but he viewed his moral courage in doing what was “right” as saving the lives of countless numbers of his men. Was it justified? Or, in reverse perspective, was Lightburn’s tactical ignorance—or perhaps ulterior motive—in ordering the attack defensible under the scrutiny of hindsight? If correct in a technical sense, were his actions in a practical sense justifiable? Even in today’s military, should a subordinate officer be denied the chance to alter the course of action, given explicit orders contrary to the moral ethics of right versus wrong—such as to sacrifice without due gain the very lives of his men? The answers are not easy, even as we examine cause and effect. No explanations or solutions will be satisfactory, but it is a fundamental human quest to seek an understanding of what is ultimate wisdom.

This book, while often focused on the tactical battlefield, examines decision making as a consequence of personal perception and applied moral resolution. Differences in thinking may be based upon extent of knowledge, but ultimately the results sometimes defy conventional rationale (because, essentially, we are not invariably smart enough to correctly perceive and manage all factors large and small). While an analysis of some of the Civil War’s key decisions in forethought and their subsequent consequences is necessarily limited by the passage of time and inherent loss of data, we can in a larger sense stimulate thought, raise internal questions, and inspire deeper reasoning. Indeed, if we are to learn from the past, our understanding must encompass as much of the whole story as is possible—that is, the thinking as well as the doing.

What went through the mind of certain individuals caught up in life-or-death circumstances is generally difficult to determine. However, put into perspective from the historical clues that exist, often a meaningful if subjective analysis is possible. If we are to better understand our lives and the meaning of such, the past hopefully holds clues in its many recorded lessons.

 

 

Copyright © 2007 by Wiley Sword. All rights reserved.

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Excerpted from Courage under Fire: Profiles in Bravery from the Battlefields of the Civil War by Wiley Sword
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.