The Trip, part 3: the War

“…a time for war, and a time for peace” –Eccl. 3:8 As we left Mayberry whistling the “Fishing Hole” song, our tune changed to “Dixie” as we ventured into Virginia. The second phase of the trip would be a focus on the amazing struggle that took place in our country over 150 years ago, the American Civil War. No state suffered more than Virginia. There were more crucial battles fought there than any other state in the Union. Winston Churchill commented in his famous book about the history of mankind, “Thus ended the great American Civil War, which must upon the whole be considered the noblest and least avoidable of all the great mass conflicts of which till then there was record.” Maybe it wasn’t avoidable and maybe it was noble, but I think one word describes the war best: terrible. Those of you who know me know I’m a history fanatic. History was ingrained in the four Staples boys at an early age. On the many trips we took from Texas to Georgia, where my parents were born, we stopped at a lot of battle sites. Most significant was the Battle in Vicksburg, Mississippi. It was the half way point on our trip and we always spent the night at the Holiday Inn in town. We visited the Vicksburg Military Park, the memorial to the twenty thousand Americans, north and south, who gave their lives for our country. It seemed new every time we visited. I would have studied toward a history degree at Baylor, if the Lord had so led. Instead, I took as many elective hours in history as I could. I loved it, especially a course on the civil war. For my freshman English course, I wrote my huge compositional paper about “Texas in the Confederacy.” I made a good grade and loved the research, but my professor commented, “You might have written about a famous English author, like everyone else.” Baylor just happens to have the largest collection of Texas history documents in the world. I wasn’t about to pass that up and this paper was a good excuse to delve into the research! So, we set off to conquer Virginia. We visited Appomattox, the court house where Lee surrendered the largest army in the Confederacy to U.S. Grant; we spent time in Richmond, the Confederate Capital, touring the White House of the Confederacy and the Museum of the Confederacy; we toured the battlefield at Fredericksburg and stood on the famous “sunken road,” and we walked the battlefield of Manassas, the first major battle of the war. We saw sites and places I had only seen in pictures. We stood where soldiers had died: fathers, husbands, sons that had given their lives for our country. But, the experience that touched us the most was the most unlikely. We were on our way north to Manassas when we came upon a simple sign that read “Stonewall Jackson’s Shrine.” We’d been passing a lot of historical signs, but this one tugged us to pull off and explore. We made the short drive to the site where Stonewall Jackson had died from the wounds he received at the battle of Chancellorsville. The site wasn’t anything special but the tour guide who explained the story brought it to life. Jackson died as his wife and newborn son lay at his side. Right before he died he said, "It is the Lord's Day; my wish is fulfilled. I have always desired to die on Sunday." He was a Christian and rejoiced in life with Christ. As we heard the park ranger tell the story, it all became real. All the statistics and battle plans we had seen boiled down to a family suffering through death. We were touched. And we were disgusted with war. Perhaps the war was chivalrous and noble and gallant. But the war was horrible, and sad and terrible as well. People died. People were maimed and scarred physically and emotionally. Our nation survived and we are now truly united. The late historian Shelby Foote noted that before the Civil War, Americans used to say, "The United States are...," and after the War, the phrase transmogrified to "The United States is...". A terrible price was paid but here we are, walking in freedom. We turned north again to Washington D.C. where we would spend the next three days. There we would visit most of the landmarks of our “nation’s cap-i-tall” (as Forrest Gump would say). We quit whistling Dixie… …and started whistling Yankee Doodle. By Eric Joseph Staples © www.lifeaid101.com