The Legacy of Dick Winters

Who is the Keeper of History?

Me at the Winters D-Day Leadership statue.

A rather fascinating debate of contemporary historical memory has arisen in the past weeks regarding the legacy of Major Richard Winters--the well-known WWII officer of the 101st Airborne depicted in the iconic miniseries Band of Brothers.  Following his passing in 2011, his image and place in history has been contested by family, friends, and community members.  These sometimes contentious issues reached fever pitch within the past month as leaders in Winters's native Ephrata, Pennsylvania yearn to dedicate a memorial of him.  This monument, however, would be a copy of an existing memorial located near Utah Beach in Normandy--dedicated in June 2012 by the WWII Foundation.

The question is: Who does Dick Winters belong to?  All of the parties involved have very different answers to that seemingly simply question.

The leaders and citizens of Ephrata are emphatic in their right to honor their favorite local son.  As a Lancaster Online article quotes them, "we agree with the sentiment that Major Winters is now a public figure. He doesn't belong to any individual — he belongs to the American people."  They claim that not all citizens can travel to Europe and that a memorial to the major "deserves to be here in America."  Are they right?  Indeed, the honoring of such individuals as Winters can serve as an opportunity to build community pride and cohesion.  So too does the project hold the potential to deliver mass quantities of cash and visitors to the sleepy neighborhood.  Thus, what are the true motives of this endeavor?

And that is where the Winters Family comes into the equation.  Wishing to maintain the humble appearance of her late father, Winters's daughter, Jill Winters Peckelun, is one of the more vocal opponents to the memorial.  She stated in a recent press release:

After my father passed we discussed as a family how we wished to handle the requests that were coming in about having roads, races, cemeteries, etc named after Dad. We chose to honor him by passing it forward. Dad's no longer here to appreciate and enjoy the personal acclaim. We choose to honor him by encouraging that such acclaim, such resources, such support now go to the still living veterans and soldiers. It is their turn now. The sole exception we made was in renaming the little walking trail in Ephrata. In the opening ceremony for the trail I asked that an open letter I'd written be read. It praised the trail and asked that future endeavors focus on living veterans and soldiers. Portions of my letter were printed in the paper, but not the parts nobody wanted to hear.

The omission of so many people to include us in the initial discussion of a statue in Ephrata was more than an oversight.  As a family, our position remains unchanged. In fact, the experiences of these past few weeks have only reinforced our desire to have nothing to do with the sculpture.
  
Tim Gray at the WWII Foundation is likewise distressed by the varying levels of noncooperation.  He and middle-school student Jordan Brown were the two individuals who largely spearheaded the charge for the similar memorial in France (pictured above). Claiming that his views and the perspectives of like-minded opponents have been censored on the Facebook page of Ephrata's Winters Leadership Memorial, Gray is bearing his mantle via the page of the WWII Foundation.  You are free to browse the respective pages and decide where you fall on the issue.

This brings us back to the original question posed.  To whom does Dick Winters belong?  As I posted earlier, his persona of quiet, dignified leadership has exploded to near-mythical proportions a la Joshua Chamberlain of Civil War fame.  Unlike Winters, neither Chamberlain or his family were witness to his celebrity due to books and films.  Is this burst of popular memory to be dramatically embraced or respectfully reserved?  I do not have the clear answers.  Surely, the stories of Winters (and the entire WWII generation) belong to us all.  But so too are these memories entrusted to the families of those who knew such individuals best.  Just perhaps their wishes should take precedence.

This issue of commemoration is bound to be the subject of a History thesis or dissertation in years to come.  Monuments and their meanings continue to tell us as much about ourselves as the people they honor.  Fascinating stuff.

Artist's concept of the Winters Leadership Memorial in Ephrata (WLM).

Reenactors: Educators or Entertainers?

Federal reenactors march into the melee at the 2008 Gettysburg Reenactment.

In the past weeks, many historians and columnists have added their say to the ongoing discussions regarding the pros and cons of historical, especially Civil War, battle reenactments.  Indeed, the proponents on both ends of the argument offer compelling points.

To preface some of my own thoughts on the issue, allow me to first share a story from the Pickett's Charge Commemorative March on July 3.  As the 40,000 participants of that afternoon gathered at the Union lines, a somber moment of contemplation was to take place as echo taps stretched down Cemetery Ridge.  I snapped to attention with a salute as the buglers emerged from the masses to trumpet their fitting tributes.  From the position I stood at, the moment was temporarily ruined by a small handful of Confederate reenactors who childishly insisted on storming the stonewall despite the pleas of park rangers who urged they stop.  Having none of it, the half-dozen or so men pushed through the crowd to the disgust and disappointment of all those in the immediate vicinity.  With this unfortunate incident being much smaller than the infamous "rogue reenactment" in the park in 1988, the event was nevertheless stupendous.  Tears streamed down the cheeks of many a visitor as taps played.  As the photo below suggests, many simply stood there to soak in the view surrounding them.

Visitors ponder at the Bloody Angle after the "rogue reenactor" charge of July 3.

The isolated reenactor incident at the stonewall, however, I feel correlates with the ongoing controversies and debates regarding the reenacting hobby.  Civil War Institute director Peter Carmichael was recently quoted in a Wall Street Journal article, which stated: he "calls re-enactments an 'unfortunate distraction' from a deeper understanding of the Civil War, including the motivations of those who fought and its legacy. He said he favored living history encampments, where people can hold a musket or eat hardtack, giving them a tangible experience of the past. But people can learn the most from National Park Service historians who rove the battlefield, he said: 'All you need to do is stay in the National Park and you'll come away with a very deep understanding of what happened here.'"  There is a strong degree of truth in these words.  Typically, more people pay to attend the Gettysburg battle reenactment than who go on free ranger programs on the actual field.  In some ways, I can see how many consider this a distraction.

As both a professional historian and a reenactor/living historian, I am all too aware of the decades-old tensions between academia and mainstream history.   The matter comes down to the question: who can and should speak for history?  At what point can professional historians let go of the reins of truth without compromising historical integrity?  How can they do so without reinforcing the negative "ivory tower" notion in that process?  There are no clear-cut answers to these trying questions.

An extending dilemma to this predicament centers on the role of the reenactor as an educator.  Let us take into consideration the caliber of living history organizations such as the Liberty Rifles.  Their authenticity standards are superb and they exhibited great professionalism as they contributed to the Gettysburg anniversary.  On the other hand, look at the small band of renegade, boisterous Confederate impressionists who charged into throngs of visitors with little tact or respect.  Through their actions, we can see how this playground mentality Carmichael speaks of certainly resonates within the trade.  But perhaps it is also important for us to recognize that most reenactments are only as good as those who are participating in them. Reenactments can be respectful; they rest solely in the responsibility of those participating.

Like Civil War history itself, Civil War reenacting stands at a crossroads.  It seems that a vast majority of the hobbyists are no longer the correct age or have the proper waistline to represent the average Civil War soldier.  Having gotten their start in the 1960s or 1970s, so too will many of them still tell you that the war was about tariffs and states' rights.  Younger reenactors now have the opportunity to stray away from the "stuff over substance" that plagues many a reenactor impression.  They also have the power and means to properly embrace the true causes and legacies of the war through their impressions, and yes, even reenactments.  The matter is in their hands.

WWII veterans watch the D-Day Ohio Reenactment in Conneaut in 2011.

Yes, some reenactments are distasteful--but not all of them.  If all reenactments were disrespectful, I somehow doubt the gentlemen above would come to watch them.  Just maybe there is room for reenactments in the realm of historical study.  Just as how academics can ensure the accuracy of their work through solid research and citations, reenactors could and should provide equal understandings to their living history impressions.  Reenacting can be more than fireworks or the showing and telling of "stuff."  It can be a golden opportunity to reflect upon the loudness, loss, and important themes of military history.  If historians of all branches, both formal and amateur, desire to make this goal a reality, they might be better off building bridges to facilitate such dialogue instead of burning them.

Reflections of the Gettysburg 150th

Rangers, Reenactors, and Remembrances

Custer's guidon unfurled at the Michigan Monument at East Cavalry Field on July 3, 2013.

Me pontificating!

The event is over.  According to most, if not all sources, the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg was a dramatic success.  Some quarter million visitors explored the park throughout the sesquicentennial events and half of them went on park ranger tours, ceremonies, and/or interpretive programs.  For the first day in nearly two weeks, I am off duty.  Having performed the last two days on fumes of adrenaline, I thought I would take this welcomed respite as a moment of reflection for these busy, albeit incredibly exciting days.  For myself, my colleagues, and the throngs of visitors, the event was a rewarding one.

My morning on July 3 began in the rain.  Delivering the East Cavalry Field tour with Ranger Bill Hewitt, some 400 people attended even as the showers became steadier.  The PCN camera crews threw ponchos over their camera to shelter it.  Splitting into two groups, my visitors and I had a somber reflection of death and the chaos that ensued from cavalry clashes east of Gettysburg.  We concluded by reading a letter written by Edward Corselius of 1^st MI Cavalry.  A week prior to this letter, Edward wrote to his mother, stating that his brother Fred had gone missing.  But when Edward conducted a search he later learned that:

"His spirit had already taken its upward flight to mingle eternally with the angels.  While gallantly contending shoulder to shoulder with his comrades in the cause of the Union and Republican liberty, my brother fell pierced by a murderous bullet.  Calm and heroic still, he urged his companions to fight on.  When it was apparent our boys were overpowered, the last cartridge being fired at the traitors, he ordered his faithful gun destroyed so that it might not fall into their hands.  They left him there, uncertain as to the immediate issue of the combat without the glorious promise of peace to a distracted country.  But still with the most undying faith that the cause of his country would eventually triumph, that old Flag would triumph yet.  Just as the Fourth of July was to usher in memories that can never die, his spirit too will live on."

We too made memories.  We discussed how that even when considering how much death had been inflicted in this cavalry whirlpool, men such as Edward realized it was all in the name of something greater than themselves or their brothers.  The cost had to be worth something--as Lincoln articulated a short four months later.  150 years ago to the day, I stood in the same location as two of my ancestors--Josiah and Upton Nycum of the 3rd PA Cavalry.  So too was I surrounded by many a descendant whose family waged mortal conflict upon those soggy pastures.  The honor of doing so was immense.

While the honor was great, there was unfortunately little time for contemplation following our rainy East Cavalry Field expedition.  We had to huff it to the Emmitsburg Road in preparation for the Pickett's Charge Commemorative March that afternoon.  Flanking the town via U.S. 15 to avoid the congestion, I cut south and had the fortune parking at the Codori Farm at the halfway point of the march.  After a quick lunch with a colorful assortment of EMT and law enforcement rangers, I grabbed my Confederate officer's sword (shown heroically above) and embarked toward Seminary Ridge.  Crowds of thousands were already assembling on both lines, including news vehicles and satellite trucks.

By afternoon, the skies began to clear.  Two park rangers were assigned to lead each of the nine Confederate brigades (composed of visitors) forward across the open fields.  Each unit had a simple, colored banner with the brigade name sewn on it.  Here, Ranger Andrew Newman from Museum Services helped me out.  At 2:30 we began assembling the 700-some visitors in our sector into a rough formation.  At 2:50, nine artillery pieces fired as the signal to be prepared to march.  In the meantime, I offered a brief introduction to the brigade whose footsteps we were walking in.  On July 3, 1863, the infantry brigade of James Archer was actually commanded by Birkett D. Fry, due to Archer's capture two days prior.  As we prepared to move, I read the words of Captain J. B. Turney, Company K, 1^st TN: 

"Early on the morning of the third day our division was moved to the front and right, and remained in line of battle until our artillery was massed to the front. At about 1 o'clock the fiercest cannonading known to warfare was begun. For two hours the old hills trembled as if affrighted. The limbs and trunks of trees were torn to pieces and sent crashing to the earth to add to the havoc among the gallant boys who waited anxiously an order to charge. Finally, as heaven's thunder ceases that the storm in its fury may ravage and riot, so became silent the quarter of a thousand death-dealing monsters, and before the echoes had died among the distant hills we were in line for a forward movement."

We were in the place and the moment.  I reflected upon what was on the line as these soldiers faced what was ahead of them: the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers, the fate of four million slaves, and the destiny of two nations--each with their own distinct visions of what freedom was.  Being taken back in time by Turney's words, we all stood together as we awaited the final volley of the guns.  The Rebel Yell echoing from thousands of throats echoed from the woods.  The sound was surreal beyond words.

At exactly 3 p.m. the artillery pieces reverberated through the valley.  As the brigade of direction (just as in 1863), Archer's unit was the first to move forward.  We set forth in column up a mowed path until we reached an open area in which the group formed in line of battle to the best of their ability.  Reenactors representing the 14th TN formed the center of our line and the visitors gathered to their left and right.  Muskets were raised alongside digital cameras as we crossed.  The photo above is only a fraction of the overall number of people present.  (Can you spot me out front?)

Like clockwork, the hikers representing Pickett's Division emerged from the swales and treelines to our right.  Armistead's Brigade alone had some 3,000 visitors in it--far more than in the actual 1863 assault itself.  The sprawling mass of marchers was a sight to behold.  Maintenance crews in the park worked days and weeks beforehand to temporarily remove fence lines and cut the grass to a level that was passable.  Luckily, far fewer casualties were inflicted on this march in comparison to the one of a century and a half earlier, although the heat got to folks in both cases.

To the best of its ability, the National Park Service desired to keep this a tasteful and respectful culminating event.  The park did not desire reenactors and visitors engaging in mock battles or storming the stonewall with rebel screeches.  Accordingly, I raised my sword to halt the formation several yards out from the Bloody Angle.  There, we awaited the other brigades to arrive on our left and right.  Visitors gained a true realization of the struggles on these fields in 1863.  The weather conditions were exact to what they were like during the assault.  High eighties, high humidity, and partly sunny.  Yet few among us were wearing wool, even less had packs on, and nobody was firing live ammunition our way.  As a result, the event offered a somewhat horrifying recognition of what must have been felt there.

As we stood, more and more visitors swarmed in around us.  Of the many photos snapped that day, this one perhaps best captures the essence of the Commemorative March.  People were hot and some dehydrated, but nearly all were happy, appreciative, respectful, and awestruck.  A lot of Confederate flags?  Yes.  A Lost Cause celebration?  Hardly.  Firstly, visitors were and are allowed to carry largely whatever flags they wish in their National Parks.  These public lands always have and will likely remain one of the greatest venues for freedom of expression in the country.  Secondly, one must examine the event in its totality--an anniversary week in which the causes, complexities, and (sometimes flawed) memories of the conflict were discussed time and again.  Even so, one can understand the academic historian wincing at a display of such banners.  Indeed, the image of the Confederate flag remains one of the most single divisive issues in regard to the historical memory of the war and its gruesome aftermath.  Sadly, this debate is nowhere near a resolution.  In what context is the flag an appropriate symbol to utilize?

(More to come on a small handful of rogue reenactors in the next blog post plus some commentary on the future of that hobby.)

A small part of a very large and dedicated crew, left to right: Supervisory Historian Scott Hartwig, Jared Frederick, Chris Gwinn, Dan Vermilya, and Philip Brown.  This anniversary was perhaps the crowning event of Scott's much celebrated career at the park.  Many good things and projects await him in his future years as a historical writer.  As for the rest of us, we were simply glad to be part of the noble endeavor.

Of all the reenactor participants in the march, this one was one of my favorites.  There's nothing quite like arming yourself with a fiddle rather than a rifle.  This gentleman was all but pleased to play period music (sometimes chipper, sometimes somber) for the multitudes present that afternoon.  Many just sat or stood there to soak in the scenes and sounds of the memorable day.  Some 40,000 people participated in the Pickett's Charge event--15,000 marching across while the other 25,000 watched from the Union lines extending the whole length of Cemetery Ridge.

In the background, Ranger Nate and I begin the trek home after a long day.

The week was a pressing one, but also a fulfilling one.  For some time to come, I will recall Wednesday July 3, 2013 as one of the coolest days of my life.  One lingering question is: Where do we go from here?  What does the future of Civil War History behold?  As the conference at Gettysburg discussing that topic highlighted last March, opinions are widespread, diverse, and varied.  In some ways, that is a good thing.  In other ways, it is not.

Some other final questions for us to consider: Will the sesquicentennial generate as much interest as the centennial?  According to the expressions and gestures of many visitors, I would like to think in the affirmative.  Will historians of 2063 judge us as harshly as we do of those in 1963?  Did we properly convey the meanings of the battle and the war?  Perhaps only those historians will be able to answer those questions.  Maybe some of these answers will be made self-evident come November 19.  We shall see.

Gettysburg 150 Kickoff

The Battle Sesquicentennial Begins!

Still busy here in Gettysburg!  Crowds are swarming the park like you would not believe.  Sunday night was the ceremonial opening, entitled A New Birth of Freedom.  Upwards of 10,000 spectators gathered in the natural amphitheater on the north slop behind General Meade's Headquarters.  Speakers at this keynote event included Superintendent Bob Kirby, ABC newsman Charlie Gibson, and historian Doris Kearns Goodwin.  The ceremony was a tasteful tribute featuring colorful music arrangements, numerous well-delivered addresses, and a lot of emotion.

Park rangers were out in force--seen here with their mounted friends from the Pennsylvania State Police.  105mm artillery pieces operated by the Old Guard served as ceremonial shots at the conclusion of the stirring ceremony.

Scott Hartwig...the boss.  What else needs said?

The moving Voices Program was a multimedia extravaganza that offered an immersive and human quality to the people of the Gettysburg Campaign and their times.  With the supplementation of brightly vivid images and footage on the jumbo screens, actors brought to life the words and soldiers and civilians engulfed by the Civil War's largest battle.  The presentation was accompanied by an original musical score by the Army band.  Taps were followed by a rousing twenty-one gun salute from the General Meade statue atop Cemetery Ridge.

Following taps, audience members had their candles lit and proceeded to a special luminaries tribute within the Soldiers' National Cemetery.  The most inspiration scene of the evening was standing atop Cemetery Hill and watching the procession of thousands of candles ascending toward you.  People from all different backgrounds were drawn to that special moment.  In short, it was a beautiful thing to witness.

I captured this haunting image of the Maryland Monument behind Cemetery Ridge as a spotlight shined nearby.  Maryland, perhaps more than any other state, embodies the notion of a society divided against itself.

The morning of July 1, many of we park rangers assembled early in the park visitor center to discuss a final run through on the day's proceedings. The discussion was serious, insightful, hopeful, and evolved into a something of a coach's locker room pep talk before a big game.  Go team!

I was stationed on McPherson Ridge all day from 8:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. evening.  Never before have I seen the Gettysburg battlefield scrambling with so many people.  Even before our cadre of rangers arrived on site, Reynolds Avenue was already half way filled with cars parked on the side of the road.  Shuttle buses began shuffling through shortly thereafter and the conveyor belt of visitors barely ceased throughout the day.  In short, it was awesome.  Above, Ranger Eric Mink gives a tour to one of the first tour groups of the morning.

 

Temporary wayside exhibits stood at each of the battlefield stops for the day where information stations and programs took place.  Nearby ranger tents offered additional brochures, maps, park trading cards, and park staff all too willing to help out with the needs of the visitor.

General John Reynolds, amazingly resurrected from the dead, was lingering throughout the edge of the Herbst Woods for much of the morning as well.  As many reenactors are, he was a magnet to camera-happy visitors soaking in the rich atmosphere.

Ranger Casimer Rosiecki delivers another McPherson Ridge tour as the First Corps flag flutters in the foreground.  These half hour tours were held on the hour as visitors shuttled from one location to the other.

Rangers Scott Hartwig and Dan Welch led a massive tour entitled Last March of the Iron Brigade.  Moving out from the Codori Farm, up West Confederate Avenue, through the grounds of the Lutheran Theological Seminary, and into the Herbst Woods, the tour's estimated attendance was 1,500 participants.  The hike included an entire company of living historians portraying members of the Iron Brigade.  The group truly was brigade strength.

The rangers of McPherson Ridge on July 1: Casimer Rosiecki, Jared Frederick, and Eric Mink.  What a fun and engaging day we had sharing history with people from around the world!  Even so, our work is not yet done.