Remembering bloody Shiloh

Today is the sesquicentennial of the start of the 2-day Battle of Shiloh. Our public library was kind enough to order for me Winston Groom’s new book, Shiloh 1862, and I actually picked it up this morning. I really enjoyed his previous book on the Battle of Franklin (Shrouds of Glory), and I am just as excited about the new one.

In April 1862, the War Between the States had been going on for nearly a year. Many Americans still believed that it “would be over by Christmas.” But the dreadful Battle of Shiloh was about to change all that. While earlier battles in the East had been costly, nothing that had happened before could have prepared Americans—Northerners or Southern-ers—for the appalling loss of lives at Shiloh. More than 100,000 soldiers fought on Sunday and Monday, April 6-7, 1862.

The struggle took place in the 12 square miles that comprised Pittsburg Landing, a small stretch of waterfront on the west bank of the Tennessee River. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant's army of 40,000 was waiting here for Gen. Don Carlos Buell and his 35,000, reinforcements, in preparation for an attack on the Confederate position at Corinth, Mississippi. Confederate General Albert Sidney Johnston, with his army of 44,000, was determined to hit Grant's forces before they could be reenforced. According to the National Park Service, when the battle was over, nearly 23,746 Americans were dead, wounded, or missing. There were more casualties at Shiloh than from all previous American wars combined.

Pittsburg Landing today

My great grandfather, Nathan Oakes, one of the thousands of new recruits assembling in Corinth, Mississippi, 20 miles south of the battlefield, did not participate due to the fact that his regiment, the 32nd Mississippi Infantry, was not yet equipped nor armed. The regiment did, however, receive Union prisoners, about 2,200 from Gen. Prentiss's division, that were captured in the fight at the famed "Hornet's Nest."

View from the "Hornet's Nest"

along the "Sunken Road"

Near the "Hornet's Nest" Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston was killed on the first day. His death would create a serious setback for the Southern army, changing the course of the present battle and perhaps the rest of the war. While leading an attack at the "Peach Orchard," Johnston was shot in the left leg. Not believing the wound to be serious, he dismissed his surgeon to care for wounded Union soldiers, and continued leading the Rebel attack. But within the hour, he bled to death.

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To view my blog about Great Grandfather Nathan Oakes and the 32nd Mississippi Infantry Regiment, please visit: http://32ndmississippi.blogspot.com

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National Poetry Month, Day 5

Ozymandias

Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear:

'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away."

National Poetry Month, Day 4

The World

George Herbert

Love built a stately house, where Fortune came,

And spinning fancies, she was heard to say

That her fine cobwebs did support the frame,

Whereas they were supported by the same;

But Wisdom quickly swept them all away.

The Pleasure came, who, liking not the fashion,

Began to make balconies, terraces,

Till she had weakened all by alteration;

But reverend laws, and many a proclomation

Reforméd all at length with menaces.

Then entered Sin, and with that sycamore

Whose leaves first sheltered man from drought and dew,

Working and winding slily evermore,

The inward walls and summers cleft and tore;

But Grace shored these, and cut that as it grew.

Then Sin combined with death in a firm band,

To raze the building to the very floor;

Which they effected,--none could them withstand;

But Love and Grace took Glory by the hand,

And built a braver palace than before.

National Poetry Month, Day 3

Surprised by Joy

William Wordsworth

Surprised by joy—impatient as the wind

I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom

But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,

That spot which no vicissitude can find?

Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind -

But how could I forget thee? Through what power,

Even for the least division of an hour,

Have I been so beguiled as to be blind

To my most grievous loss?—That thought's return

Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore

Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,

Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more;

That neither present time, nor years unborn,

Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

National Poetry Month, Day 2

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Transfer back to Vestal

According to his service records, on this date, my dad, Frank Dolan, was transferred back to the USS Vestal, having completed repairs over the last month on the cruiser Indianapolis, following its battles in Japanese-dominated waters in New Guinea. The Indianapolis was prepared at Pearl Harbor for a trip to the Mare Island Naval Shipyard in California for overhaul and refit.

April is National Poetry Month

Of course, there is a month set aside for just about everything. For instance, not surprisingly, April is National Garden and National Kite Months. But it’s also National Letter Writing Month, although, does anyone know what that is anymore? Closer to home, April is Confederate History Month, but I’m already blogging highlights of my Rebel ancestors. Not to be overlooked, Distracted Driving Awareness is this month. And, maybe we need an Emotional Overeating Awareness reminder in April, but do we really need an International Twit Award Month? Well, April is National Humor Month after all!

But April is National Poetry Month, too. Inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month celebrates poetry and its vital place in American culture. It probably has a commercial reason for coming into existence, but I’d like to focus on the aesthetic value of contemplating poetry. I’ve no plans to participate in any public poetry readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, or other events that may be planned this month. However, I have set a goal to finish reading Q’s celebrated Oxford Book of English Verse before the end of the month.  And, I plan to post several of my favorite, shorter poems over the remaining days of April.

For starters, 17^th century Anglican priest, George Herbert, is a good place to begin. His “Holdfast” is a profound lesson about our complete reliance on Christ, who “keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall.”  Last year, I spent a memorable class period discussing this poem with my students (they were very morally acute high schoolers!). Their grasp of the meaning of “all things were more ours by being His”—well, with Herbert, “I stood amaz’d.”

                The Holdfast

               George Herbert

I threaten'd to observe the strict decree

    Of my dear God with all my power and might;

    But I was told by one it could not be;

Yet I might trust in God to be my light.

"Then will I trust," said I, "in Him alone."

    "Nay, e'en to trust in Him was also His:

    We must confess that nothing is our own."

"Then I confess that He my succour is."

"But to have nought is ours, not to confess

    That we have nought." I stood amaz'd at this,

    Much troubled, till I heard a friend express

That all things were more ours by being His;

    What Adam had, and forfeited for all,

    Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall.

Work on the Indianapolis

Late in March through early April 1942, still at Pearl Harbor, my dad Frank Dolan, was temporarily transferred to the heavy cruiser, USS Indianapolis, for repairs. He didn’t remember the specific work he completed as the Indianapolis was one of so many ships requiring repairs following the Pearl Harbor attack and subsequent naval battles in the Pacific. On this job, he was helping with temporary patching for a trip stateside for an overhaul.

Later in the war, Indianapolis was ordered on a secret mission to deliver to Tinian, in the Northern Marianas, the component parts for the “Little Boy” atomic bomb to be dropped on Hiroshima. On her way to Leyte, Indianapolis was torpedoed by an enemy sub and sank in what became the greatest single loss of life at sea in the history of the U.S. Navy. About 300 of the 1,196 men on board died in the attack. The rest of the crew of nearly 900 men, floated in the water without lifeboats rescued 5 days later.  Only 321 crewmen came out of the water alive, and 317 ultimately lived. They suffered from lack of food and water, exposure to the elements, and horrifying shark attacks.

Sources: Frank L. Dolan's Service Records, March 1942; USS Indianapolis Muster Roll, March 1942

Dealing with Disappointment: Wisdom from George MacDonald

It sounded like a welcome already overshadowed with the coming farewell. As in all sweetest music, a tinge of sadness was in every note. Nor do we know how much of the pleasures even of life we owe to the intermingled sorrows. Joy cannot unfold the deepest truths, although deepest truth must be deepest joy (from Phantastes).

The paradox of today's pleasure already intermingled with tomorrow's sorrow... In every anticipated moment of joy in this life, there is already a seed of sadness sown. Maybe the connection of joy to sorrow is simply God's way of reminding us of our eternal home, where He will wipe away every tear in that endless day (Rev. 21).

New Blog: Great Grandfather Oakes and the 32nd Miss. Infantry

150 years ago, my great grandfather, Nathan Richardson Oakes, served as a private in Company D of the distinguished 32nd Mississippi Infantry Regiment in the Army of Tennessee. He participated in many great campaigns, including the battles of Perryville, Murfreesboro, Chickamauga, Atlanta, Franklin, Nashville, and Bentonville. I am writing about his engagements as well as some details about fighting for the Lost Cause. I hope to honor him and commemorate the events and individuals that contributed to making the 32nd Mississippi Infantry Regiment a renown unit in the Confederate Army of Tennessee.

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To view my blog about Great Grandfather Nathan Oakes and the 32nd Mississippi Infantry Regiment, visit: http://32ndmississippi.blogspot.com

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