Originally posted by quackquackThe war was about Americans killing Americans.
We shouldn't honor people who killed US soldiers.
Originally posted by whodeyMany on both sides were serving by circumstance, and many were serving for what they thought the US should be, if it were to be its best. I would honor all who were spread along this spectrum, on both sides.
For those who don't know, today was Memorial day in the US for the fallen soldiers of past years.
So the question is, should the service of Confederate soldiers be honored?
Originally posted by quackquackMemorial Day is about honoring the fallen soldiers, not the people who killed others. Don't you know even that ?? My paternal great-grandfather fought for the Confederacy from 1861-1865 in Galveston, Texas. He never killed anyone during that war.
We shouldn't honor people who killed US soldiers.
Originally posted by whodeyYes it was (Americans fighting Americans) and all attempts to sanitize the fact are doomed to scrutiny. I am reading a book on this war at present. When asked by a union soldier why they were fighting a war, a confederate soldier replied, 'because you are here' and I suspect that pretty much sums up the rationality, if it can be termed rational, of the war.
The war was about Americans killing Americans.
I would honor people who may have killed US soldiers if I thought that their cause was righteous.
Should the question not be, who is fighting for justice and who is not instead of blindly swearing allegiance to the US soldier?
”The game's a draw."
"No! They've got to win or else they lose. A draw's a win for our side."
"What would you do if you were the enemy?" said the war correspondent,suddenly.
"If I had men like I've got now?"
"Take those trenches."
"Oh—dodges! Crawl out half-way at night before moonrise and get into touch with the chaps we send out. Blaze at 'em if they tried to shift, and so bag some of 'em in the daylight. Learn that patch of ground by heart, lie all day in squatty holes, and come on nearer next night. There's a bit over there, lumpy ground, where they could get across to rushing distance—easy. In a night or so. It would be a mere game for our fellows; it's what they're made for.... Guns? Shrapnel and stuff wouldn't stop good men who meant business."
"Why don't they do that?"
"Their men aren't brutes enough: that's the trouble. They're a crowd of devitalized townsmen, and that's the truth of the matter' They're clerks, they're factory hands, they're students, they're civilized men. They can write, they can talk, they can make and do all sorts of things, but they're poor amateurs at war. They've got no physical staying power, and that's the whole thing. They've never slept in the open one night in their lives; they've never drunk anything but the purest water-company water; they've never gone short of three meals a day since they left their feeding-bottles. Half their cavalry never cocked leg over horse till it enlisted six months ago. They ride their horses as though they were bicycles—you watch 'em! They're fools at the game, and they know it. Our boys of fourteen can give their grown men points.... Very well——"
The war correspondent mused on his face with his nose between his knuckles.
"If a decent civilization," he said, "cannot produce better men for war than——"
He stopped with belated politeness.
"Than our open-air life," said the young lieutenant, politely.
"Exactly," said the war correspondent. "Then civilization has to stop."
"It looks like it," the young lieutenant admitted.
"Civilization has science, you know," said the war correspondent. "It invented and it makes the rifles and guns and things you use."
"Which our nice healthy hunters and stockmen and so on, rowdy-dowdy cowpunchers and negro-whackers, can use ten times better..."
He and his engineers and his riflemen all went about their work, calm and reasonable men. They had none of that flapping strenuousness of the half-wit in a hurry, that excessive strain upon the blood-vessels, that hysteria of effort which is so frequently regarded as the proper state of mind for heroic deeds.
For the enemy these young engineers were defeating they felt a certain qualified pity and a quite unqualified contempt. They regarded these big, healthy men they were shooting down precisely as these same big, healthy men might regard some inferior kind of native. They despised them for making war; despised their bawling patriotisms and their emotionality profoundly; despised them, above all, for the petty cunning and the almost brutish want of imagination their method of fighting displayed. "If they must make war," these young men thought, "why in thunder don't they do it like sensible men?" They resented the assumption that their own side was too stupid to do anything more than play their enemy's game, that they were going to play this costly folly according to the rules of unimaginative men.
"Checkmate," said the war correspondent, walking out into the open. "But I surrender in the best of company. Twenty-four hours ago I thought war was impossible—and these beggars have captured the whole blessed army! Well! Well!" He thought of his talk with the young lieutenant. "If there's no end to the surprises of science, the civilized people have it, of course. As long as their science keeps going they will necessarily be ahead of open-country men. Still...." He wondered for a space what might have happened to the young lieutenant.
The war correspondent was one of those inconsistent people who always want the beaten side to win. When he saw all these burly, sun-tanned horsemen, disarmed and dismounted and lined up; when he saw their horses unskillfully led away by the singularly not equestrian cyclists to whom they had surrendered; when he saw these truncated Paladins watching this scandalous sight, he forgot altogether that he had called these men "cunning louts" and wished them beaten not four-and-twenty hours ago. A month ago he had seen that regiment in its pride going forth to war, and had been told of its terrible prowess, how it could charge in open order with each man firing from his saddle, and sweep before it anything else that ever came out to battle in any sort of order, foot or horse.