Remembering the Fallen

 

 

Back in 2018, just a couple weeks before Memorial Day, Mom, Dad, and I went to Stones River battlefield. Their property pretty much backs up to the battlefield, but it had been years since we had been there. It was a beautiful mild spring day and a lovely day to take a walk around the now peaceful battlefield.

Before visiting the cemetery, we toured the museum. We saw artifacts of the battle. There was a rucksack hanging from a hook. It was the size of a woman’s medium-sized shoulder bag, but the weight of it was unimaginable! I know that it didn’t, but it felt like it contained a few cannonballs. There were rifles, cannon, and bits of info on the logistics of the battle

We watched a short film about the battle. It is difficult to imagine a war less civil than a civil war where neighbors, friends, even family fixed each other in their sights and pulled the trigger. The battle at Stones River was one of the deadliest of the war with about 23,000 casualties. The Union claimed the victory but both sides experienced great loss.

After we toured the museum, we walked across the street to visit the cemetery. The cemetery was a serene place. There was some traffic noise from the street, the occasional train traveling along the nearby tracks, and the sound of someone mowing a yard in the distance; but still, a peaceful serenity seemed to mute that noise. The calls of various birds echoed through the trees and a cooling breeze whispered through the leaves resulting in a lulling rustling sound. The sun shone brightly and provided a warmth that was not overwhelming, just comfortable.

 

The stones in the cemetery were lined up in a pleasing precise way. Some bore the names of the soldier they stood over. Others were smaller and bore only a number, but all were arranged with precision. And in the center of the cemetery, Old Glory proudly streamed in the breeze representing the Union that 13,000 men and boys had died to defend.

 

As we leisurely strolled amongst the stones, I could not help but imagine the contrast between now and then. I tried to imagine the soldiers, more than a few of them barely boys, carrying these heavy rucksacks as well as their rifles through the frigid fog of those late December, early January days of 1862-1863. I could see their breath hanging frozen in the air. I could imagine the chaos of shots fired, the boom of cannons propelling projectiles of destruction toward living, breathing flesh. I could hear the shouts of orders given to soldiers, the anguished cries of the wounded, and the weakening moans of the dying. I imagined the stench of powder, blood, shattered bowels, fear, and death. I could imagine a dying soldier pushing a letter hurriedly into the hands of a brother asking him to please get it to his family. I could imagine the soldier Ed Abbott, lying on this cold battlefield amongst the wounded and dying for nine days remembering the last words of his dying mother to be a good boy and meet her in a better place. And men lie scattered across the battlefield in anything but a precise, pleasing way.

I imagine all of these things and I know that my imagination can never come even close to conjuring the actual horrors of this battle or any other battle. I also know that I will never be able to imagine how people can walk amongst the row upon row of headstones of cemeteries such as this and not try to avoid creating more cemeteries filled with young men who have died in battle. I wish that I could imagine men sitting down to peacefully solve their differences through compromise and diplomacy rather than on battlefields through might.

On this Memorial Day, please, try to imagine what our soldiers have and will go through for us. Try to imagine that and realize that however great your imagination is, what you imagined pales when compared to the actuality. Realize that and try your best to encourage our leaders to lead through diplomacy and compromise rather than through might.

Please remember to thank our veterans and active military personnel. May God bless and protect them and their families. And above all, remember those who have given their very lives for us, folks they did not even know. Remember, “Greater love hath no man than this, a man lay down his life for his friends.”