4/11/2007
Letters Home
Red2Alpha says,
My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure — and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing — perfectly willing — to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.
But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows — when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children — is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?
I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death — and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.
I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles I have often advocated before the people and “the name of honor that I love more than I fear death” have called upon me, and I have obeyed.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me — perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar — that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night — amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours — always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.
As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father’s love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God’s blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.
Sullivan
This letter was written by a Union Soldier on the eve of the first battle of Manassas, the first battle of Bull Run, as it was known to the Confederaterates, in the American Civil War. I find his words sterring and similar to those of any Soldier or any age. No matter the fight, Thermopylae, Agincourt, the Somme, Normandy, or Iraq, all Soldiers are the same men. The names change but the intent stays the same. He fights for his men, he fights for his country, he fights for freedom, he fights for his loved ones.
Major Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the First Battle of Manassas.
Filed under: General
6 Responses to “Letters Home”
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That is such a poignant letter. Ageless or timeless. It’s amazing to think it was written during the Civil War. I find it sad to know there are those in our Country who don’t understand or care the blood and perseverance taken for them to live freely today.
[…] Red2Alpha at American Soldier has a letter that is timeless… Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield. […]
I remember hearing about this letter when Ken Burns did his history of the American Civil War.
Truer words were never spoken, and much is applicable for today when our warriors go to far away lands to protect this country.
Thx for posting this R2A. There is a beauty and a longing there that is hard to place in words, but explains so much.
Hopefully this is not the way you are saying you are going back?
In our time following 9/11, the cry was, in the Commission’s Words, “Think outside the box!” Let’s take a look at that counsel. As we struggle and claw our way up to the top the box, we throw our leg over the top of the box. We can hear others down on the ground, “Just shift your position and you’ll fall.” You follow the counsel and fall to the ground. You begin to really understand your freedom from the box. It’s a fact, but you don’t really believe it. Then slowly, you begin to believe it, you become overjoyed, you actually dance with freedom. You get tired and rest, but rest rest does not come, in the deepest part of your soul, a small voice begins a dialog. Look, you’re tired and try to put off this dialog. The quiet voice in your soul continues, “This box, what is it? What are you going to do with it?” It take a long time, but you begin to realize the box is actually “HISTORY”. You might put it on the shelf, but don’t destroy it. Hint- We’re just in a bigger box. We need to learn from history and not make the same mistakes. Then you learn the real lesson of history, we do not have freedom, we have responsible freedom. Last, but least, this freedom is not free.
Thank you for sharing this timeless letter.
Thank you for sharing this letter. As you say, it surely shows how little some things change. I can envision thousands of soldiers writing this very letter, with very little change, to their loved ones back home during every major conflict we have endured. It is with a wounded soul that that I empathize with those to whom the letter is written.
God bless you and all our troops. There are no words of thanks that can convey my level of pride and gratitude for you all.
R2A: it is good to see you writing again. I am surprised to find you here. You have been missed by me!