General Jekyll and Private Hyde

It is good that war is so terrible for otherwise we should love it too much.
        -- Robert E. Lee

We Baby Boomers were exposed to hundreds of movies and other accounts of heroic acts performed by our servicemen during World War II. And more portraying those who fought, died and killed in conflicts ranging all the way back to the French and Indian Wars before we even became a nation.

By the time I learned that some people are opposed to war, I had already been brainwashed; I was convinced that at times we have to fight for what we believe in.

Each school day began with the Pledge of Allegiance, often followed by a patriotic song. In Ohio, we said the Lord’s Prayer.

One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Events intervened, as I grew older. Today, I no longer enjoy the comfort that accompanies believing absolutely that my country has (and is) always right. And I definitely no longer believe that fighting, in the physical sense of the word, is an effective method for problem solving.

During my visit to Gettysburg, part of me just wanted to bask in the glory of … well, glory. I wanted to connect with the vestiges of chivalry and honor that are so often attached to the Civil War in general, but Gettysburg (and Pickett’s futile, but brave, charge) in particular.

But conflicting emotions intervened, spoiling my visit, in a manner of speaking. I just couldn’t suspend belief and allow myself to become immersed in the scale of events and the pageantry with which it is commemorated.

Two sidebar stories gave me pause after I reflected on them a bit. Maybe it’s just my frame of mind, but it feels like I’m being sold something – as if someone is trying to make warfare more palatable by focusing on random acts of civility.

The first is an account of a general who came across an enemy general who was wounded and in a bad way. The good Samaritan general got down off his horse and tended to his adversary, ordering his own physician to take the wounded officer to the hospital and attend to him.

The story wraps up by noting that both men survived the war and became good friends in later years.

After reflection, I was assaulted by the distinction between generals and privates. What it it were considered “noble” or “chivalrous” to drop one’s weapon to offer succor to a fallen enemy of low rank?

I was left with a bad taste in my mouth: generals welfare is of more consequence and importance than that of enlisted soldiers and abandoning the fight to care for a general is considered to be good form, while diverting attention from the battle to care for a wounded private is not.

The second example is the story of a Confederate officer who ensures a woman that his soldiers would not plunder her home or harm her or her children.

It occurred to me that a more complete statement might approximate the following:

“Madam, my boys won’t harm you or your children and will stay off of your property. On the other hand, if your husband, son or neighbor takes arms against us to defend you, we’ll kill them if we get a chance.”

Knights believed in the code of chivalry. They promised to defend the weak, be courteous to all women, be loyal to their king, and serve God at all times. They also wielded horrible weapons designed to maim their adversaries.