The Daily Mail recently published extracts from the letters of dead soldiers to their families, stretching from the seventeenth century to the present war in Iraq. They do not make easy reading. What is striking though is the devotion these soldiers had to their cause, whether it was against the French in the 1800’s or the Nazis in the 1940’s. It makes me wonder whether I would, or could, show the same level of devotion:
“My Mary, let the recollection console you that the happiest days of my life have been from your love and affection, and that I die loving only you, and with a fervent hope that our souls may be reunited hereafter and part no more.” (Major Arthur Rowley Heyland, Battle of Waterloo, 1815).
‘I don’t know why I am writing this because I really hope that this letter never gets to you, because if it does that means I am dead…just because I have passed away does not mean I am not with you…I’ll always be there looking over you, keeping you safe…So whenever you feel lonely, just close your eyes and I’ll be there right by your side. I really did love you with all I had, you were everything to me.’ (Gunner Lee Thornton to his fiancée, age 22. Died in Iraq, 2006.)
The article reminded me of a letter written by an American soldier in the Civil War. I had heard it from Ken Burn’s series, The American Civil War, and it has stayed with me since, mainly because it is one of the most heart-breaking letters I have ever read:
“My very dear Sarah:
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.
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…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.”
Major Sullivan Ballou, Union Army. (1829-1861). His wife never remarried.
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