So far today, I've been quite busy. After an early start at Falmouth, I've driven a fair ways, and drove and walked over the most blood-soaked ground in the entirety of the United States. Today I've been through Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Wilderness and Spotsylvania. Yesterday I roamed over Manassas.
And now, sitting in a motel room at Culpeper, I find myself both exhilarated at having finally witnessed the holy land I've dreamed of, and yet troubled about the threat it faces.
Let's take Manassas. I found myself almost shaking, standing as I was on the ground that the immortal Stonewall stood fast and won his immortal nickname. Henry House was a scant 300 yards distant, and in my mind I could see the cannonballs whirring through the air, gouging great chunks of earth and soil out of the protective emplacements as they landed. I could picture Barnard E Bee rallying his troops, pointing at Jackson and demanding that they rally on the Virginians.
Let's take Fredericksburg. I stood behind an original section of the famous sunken wall, and pictured the poor Federals slugging their way up the slope, being blasted by cruel artillery fire from Marye's Heights, and four ranks of Confederate soldiers pouring volley after volley down the slope. I saw the Federals stagger, halt, and retreat, as they failed to achieve the impossible. I could see Longstreet gaze approvingly from the crown of the heights, and his sage nod as Lee remarked "It is well that war is so terrible, else we should grow too fond of it."
Let's take Chancellorsville. I saw the memorial, marking the place where Stonewall Jackson fell with the wound that would kill him, as panicked North Carolinians blasted him from his saddle with a volley of smoothbore musketry. I saw the ruins of the Chancellorsville Inn, and the clearing where Jackson and Lee held their famous conference, seated on boxes of hardtack. I saw where Howard's men panicked and ran as 25,000 confederates came pouring down the Orange Plank road, bayonets fixed and the rebel yell echoing for miles.
And yet, this visage is irredeemably marred. In the background of Manassas, not more than 300 yards from the Henry House, a dual carriageway intersection is full of cars. Trucks thunder past mere yards from where Stonewall Jackson fell. The slope below the sunken road at Fredericksburg is almost impossible to see, as housing estates extend up to within 20 metres of the south face of the stone wall on the road. The spires of the churches mark the boundary of the old town of Fredericksburg, but the Rappahannock is hidden, even from the highest point on Marye's Heights. E Porter Alexander may well have said "a chicken couldn't live on that field" to Longstreet, but time and developers have certainly proven that 10000 civilians can accomplish it with relative ease.
What I worry about is that future generations of Americans, and indeed, people of the world, will not be able to experience the true sense of the battlefields of the Civil War. I worry that someday that some of the great scenes of American conflict and tragedy will be like the sunken road at Fredericksburg - a tiny oasis of greenery and valour, surrounded by Taco Bell, a motorbike repair shop, suburban housing and gas stations. I saw Salem Church today, scene of a famous action at Chancellorsville. Surrounded by shops, it seemed almost as if the developer had grudgingly agreed to let it remain, a blot on the landscape in the midst of a shimmering wall of steel.
I've experienced Shiloh, Vicksburg and Chickamauga. These battlefields, far from the developers eye, are massive, and preserved almost entirely intact. Shiloh in particular is a fantastic effort on the part of the National Park service. But battlefields, particularly those in industrialised areas, I think are in far greater danger. I saw a story on the news the other night of a developer who was fined $70000 for destroying 100 yards of Confederate earthworks at the Wilderness. But the matter almost didn't become public, as the developer had a powerful friend in Congress. This is what worries me. That America's cultural heritage, and battlefields representing the new birth of freedom that the Republic endured will be sacrificed on the altar of development and industrialisation.
By all means develop and expand the country. But some areas are sacred land. I found it almost soul destroying to see Fredericksburg today. I've read about Fredericksburg more times than I can count. I pictured the green sloping field, leading away from the stone wall and the sunken road. I pictured the view from Marye's Heights, down to the outskirts of the town, and the green hill that the gallant Federals so bravely charged.
When I saw the reality today, I almost cried.
