My Maine Man

Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear – seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.

        -- Julius Caesar (Shakespeare)

As much as I hate war, few human enterprises offer a context that can match its life-and-death struggle in pursuit of a goal – be it good or evil.

When Shakespeare’s Henry V addresses his troops and declares, “gentlemen in England now-a-bed shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us,” something within me is stirred and I do, on some level, wish that sometime in my life I could be a part of an epic battle where everything is on the line.

Today, in his hometown of Brewer, Maine, I stood beside a statue of Joshua Chamberlain atop a hill landscaped to represent Little Round Top – the position his Maine Volunteers held in early July of 1863 near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

Many historians believe that the actions of those Maine soldiers on that day turned the tide in a battle which arguably turned the tide in the war.

I’ve given a good deal of thought to Chamberlain. Perhaps I identify with him in a few regards – not because of shared heroism, for sure, or because I consider myself his equal intellectually or in any other way; I see him as a thoughtful person who must have been torn inconsistencies and impossible contradictions and compelled to sacrificing some of his principles to achieve noble ends.

My own far less dramatic search for meaning in the context of chaos has been aided by three scenes from the 1993 made-for-television movie, Gettysburg.

Chamberlain, portrayed by Jeff Daniels, faces three difficult challenges on that summer day. His reaction to each of the three seems, to me, to reflect his intellect and nobility. He responds to challenges with his head and heart; and his willingness to see past apparently impossible obstacles has affected me.

First, during a forced march toward the battleground, Chamberlain is handed responsibility for a group of deserters from his home state. Though authorized to summarily execute these men, Chamberlain knows he will not do so – and he knows he must deal with the situation immediately, without slowing his unit’s progress toward the front line.

Preoccupied, the officer initially addresses the mutinous soldiers informally. But he soon launches a passionate argument for the Union cause.

Realizing that he’s displayed his heart on his sleeve, Chamberlain ends his remarks rather awkwardly, offering the men the option to take up arms or remain prisoners. A few minutes later, he’s surprised to learn that most of the deserters were inspired by his speech and decided to rededicate themselves to the cause.

Later, despite the fact that they had just arrived on the scene and were weary from their march, Chamberlain’s troops were given a demanding and critical assignment: to anchor the end of the Union line – on a hill called Little Round Top.

In the movie, Chamberlain explains their challenge to his troops: “If you look to our left, you will see that there is no one there. It's because we're the end of the line. The Union army stops here. We are the flank. Do you understand, gentlemen? We cannot retreat. We cannot withdraw. We are going to have to be stubborn today.”

Hours later, after having repulsed several Rebel charges, having lost a number of soldiers and having expended most of their ammunition, the men from Maine were near exhaustion. It seemed likely that they would be overrun by the next Rebel advance.

In command, Chamberlain considered the situation. With only a few minutes to make a decision, he must have been near panic. Without sufficient ammunition, the position was indefensible – but retreat was not an option.

I’ve watched Daniels’ reenactment of that moment of decision many times. For me, that brief interval between hopelessness and the decision to act is magic. Charging the enemy now seems to be an almost obvious choice; but in the context of actual battle conditions, it represented an amazing combination of courage and confidence – confidence both in himself and his troops.

The third scene follows hard on the second. As Chamberlain plunged down the slope alongside his men, he encountered many enemy soldiers. In his own recollection of the event he recalls often being surrounded by more Rebels than comrades.

Among these adversaries was an officer who interrupted Chamberlain’s advance by brandishing a huge revolver. It was point-blank range and looked like the end for this heroic Union officer.

Perhaps two seconds elapsed while the hammer was pulled back. Who knows what anyone may be likely to think during such an interval? But Chamberlain’s overt response to almost certain death seemed to me to be acceptance.

The colonel released a burst of air that bristled his whiskers as he looked directly into the eyes of the man who was about to take his life. He seemed to me to be a man who had already accepted the possibility of such an outcome – not eager for an ending, but as prepared as is possible.

The pistol misfired and Chamberlain’s sword now gave him the upper hand. He calmly demanded that his adversary surrender – nothing personal, just another day at the war.

The Maine troops took the day with their charge down Little Round Top. Joshua Chamberlain earned the Congressional Medal of Honor and has served as a role model for thousands, perhaps millions of people.

In three scenes, a talented actor managed to establish the Colonel’s motivation, display his judgment and courage, confirm his compassion and define him as a man of honor and commitment.

To see these scenes for yourself:

http://www.americanrhetoric.com/MovieSpeeches/moviespeechgettysburg.html and


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYDhAmjmxYk