Roy Exum
If you drive into Chickamauga National Military Park and go to the visitors center, you will find signs that will lead you to eight major points of interest on a driving tour. Over 5,000 acres of land make up the military park – designated in 1890 – and millions have since visited, studied and wept where some 4,000 soldiers were killed on this very week 153 years ago. It is the last stop, No. 8, that I want to bring to your attention – there you will find Snodgrass Hill and there is where I will say a prayer this weekend in memory of “The Angel of Marye’s Heights.”
On Sept. 20, 1863, there were 25 assaults made on Snodgrass Hill – some historians claim it was just one savage brawl that lasted all day -- and the intensity of the fighting may be best illustrated by the fact that just the 535 men who made up the 21st Ohio regiment used 43,550 rounds of ammunition. It has been described as “one of the most epic stands” of the entire Civil War.
And on Sept. 20, 1863, the Angel of Marye’s Heights was killed on Snodgrass Hill.
You need to know this is a special weekend for the National Park Service. As our glorious park service continues to celebrate its 100th anniversary, a special ceremony will be held at the Sherman Reservation on Missionary Ridge at 12:30 Saturday afternoon. Ranger-guided tours will be available to showcase a beautiful trail – about a half-mile long -- connecting the Sherman Reservation to the Pennsylvania Reservation and it is a can’t-miss opportunity for both Civil War and Chattanooga history lovers.
Because it is also National Public Lands Day, Point Park on Lookout Mountain will waive visitor fees this Saturday but the most fun will be at the Sherman Reservation. (Note: Parking will be at the Community Church at 2508 Glass St., where free shuttles will take guests to the reservation area on Missionary Ridge.)
Earlier this week I wrote about Dr. Mary Edwards Walker, the only female to ever be awarded our nation’s Medal of Honor. Dr. Walker was a field surgeon at the Battle of Chickamauga and her story is a compelling one; she was the second female in U.S. history to graduate from a medical school and, when she was refused a military commission, she worked as a volunteer until war’s end.
A wonderful friend, having read about Dr. Walker, immediately shared the legend of The Angel of Marye’s Heights with me and this is among the things I most adore. Not unlike Dr. Walker’s medical brilliance when 22,000 wounded from Chickamauga were brought to Chattanooga for treatment, the Angel of Mary’s Heights is a story of humanity within a bigger story of inhumanity.
An estimated 622,000 Americans, which was two percent of our population at the time and what would equate to over 6 million today, were killed during the Civil War. It is the most foolish example of idiocy the world has ever known. While you hope we would have learned, suffice it to say that within the Chicago city limits there have been 525 Americans shot and killed by other Americans already this year.
Ten days before Christmas in December of 1862, the Civil War’s focal point was the Battle of Fredericksburg and Union casualties were heavy. The Confederates unleashed a “wall of flame” and, as morning dawned on the 14th, the battlefield was strewn with many wounded. Their screams, cries for water, a “mercy” bullet, and agony could be heard from every direction.
With the stretcher-bearers and hospital stewards unable to reach the fallen, it was a total horror. That is when Richard Kirkland, a sergeant with the South Carolina Second Infantry, approached his brigade commander, General Joseph Kershaw, to say he couldn’t bear hearing the anguished cries. Kirkland asked permission to go over the wall with a white flag, taking as much water as he could carry to Yankee and Rebel alike.
Gen. Kershaw told him he would get a bullet through the head the minute he showed himself and Kirkland replied, “Yes sir, I know that, but if you’ll let me I’d like to try.”
The general and the sergeant were from the same South Carolina town, Camden, and the general knew what a fine family the Kirklands were so he relented. “I can’t let you take a white flag – I am not authorized to initiate a truce – but I’ll allow you to do this.” Kirkland filled as many canteens as he could and then went over the wall.
Years later General Kershaw would write an article that appeared in the Charleston News & Courier in January, 1880, entitled, “Richard Kirkland, the Humane Hero of Fredericksburg.” It read, in part:
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“The day after the sanguinary battle of Fredericksburg, Kershaw's brigade occupied the road at the foot of Marye's hill and the ground about Marye's house, the scene of their desperate defense of the day before. One hundred and fifty yards in front of the road, the stone facing of which constituted the famous stone wall, lay Syke's division of regulars, U.S.A., between whom and our troops a murderous skirmish occupied the whole day, fatal to many who heedlessly exposed themselves, even for a moment.
“The ground between the lines was bridged with the wounded' dead and dying Federals, victims of the many desperate and gallant assaults of that column of 30,000 brave men hurled vainly against that impregnable position.
“All that day those wounded men rent the air with their groans and their agonizing cries of "Water! Water!" In the afternoon the General sat in the north room, upstairs, of Mrs. Stevens' house, in front of the road, surveying the field, when Kirkland came up. With an expression of indignant remonstrance pervading his person, his manner and the tone of his voice, he said: "General! I can't stand this."
"What is the matter, Sergeant?" asked the General. He replied, "All night and all day I have heard those poor people crying for water, and I can stand it no longer. I come to ask permission to go and give them water."
The General regarded him for a moment with feelings of profound admiration, and said: "Kirkland, don't you know that you would get a bullet through your head the moment you stepped over the wall?" "Yes, sir," he said, "I know that; but if you will let me, I am willing to try it."
After a pause, the General said, "Kirkland, I ought not to allow you to run a risk, but the sentiment which actuates you is so noble that I will not refuse your request, trusting that God may protect you. You may go."
“The Sergeant's eye lighted up with pleasure. He said, "Thank you, sir," and ran rapidly down stairs. The General heard him pause for a moment, and then return, bounding two steps at a time. He thought the Sergeant's heart had failed him. He was mistaken. The Sergeant stopped at the door and said: "General, can I show a white handkerchief?" The General slowly shook his head, saying emphatically, "No, Kirkland, you can't do that." "All right," he said, "I'll take the chances," and ran down with a bright smile on his handsome countenance.
“With profound anxiety he was watched as he stepped over the wall on his errand of mercy -- Christ-like mercy. Unharmed he reached the nearest sufferer. He knelt beside him, tenderly raised the drooping head, rested it gently upon his own noble breast, and poured the precious life- giving fluid down the fever scorched throat. This done, he laid him tenderly down, placed his knapsack under his head, straightened out his broken limb, spread his overcoat over him, replaced his empty canteen with a full one, and turned to another sufferer.
“By this time his purpose was well understood on both sides, and all danger was over. From all parts of the field arose fresh cries of "Water, water; for God's sake, water!" More piteous still the mute appeal of some who could only feebly lift a hand to say, here, too, is life and suffering.
“For an hour and a half did this ministering angel pursue his labor of mercy, nor ceased to go and return until he relieved all the wounded on that part of the field. He returned to his post wholly unhurt. Who shall say how sweet his rest that winter's night beneath the cold stars!
“Little remains to be told. Sergeant Kirkland distinguished himself in battle at Gettysburg, and was promoted lieutenant. At Chickamauga he fell on the field of battle, in the hour of victory. He was but a youth when called away, and had never formed those ties from which might have resulted in a posterity to enjoy his fame and bless his country; but he has bequeathed to the American youth -- yea, to the world -- an example which dignifies our common humanity.”
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At the time he joined the Confederate army he was 16 years old. When he became “The Angel of Marye’s Heights,” Richard Kirkland was 19 years old. At the time of his death it was less than a month after his 20th birthday. His last words on Snodgrass Hill were, “I'm done for... save yourselves … and please tell my Pa I died right."
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