On the banks of the broad, lazy Tennessee river is Pittsburg's Landing, where General Grant's troops came ashore near the Shiloh Church. What happened for two days that April, 1862 was the first major casualty loss during the war between the USA and the CSA. It was kind of odd spending Independence Day at a site that threatened what we're celebrating. The sprawling battlefield is littered with monuments from different states memorializing their dead, plaques describing troop movement, and refurbished cannons marking various artillery units. I took a guided walk down the Sunken Road through the Hornet's Nest, a densely wooded thicket that was the location of the heaviest fighting. Here the Union army held their ground after repeated assaults by the rebels. After two days of fighting, over 20,000 dead and wounded remained, shocking a nation unaccustomed to such large numbers.
Two things struck me about Shiloh. One was a small pond located near the Hornet's Nest now named Bloody Pond. It was here that soldiers from both camps came to drink and bathe their wounds. Accounts of the aftermath describe the pond being filled with bodies of man and horse alike, turning the water a blood red. A horrible thing to imagine. But somehow it was easier to imagine how that pond would look after the battle than anything else I viewed. Perhaps the horror of it makes it a bit more visceral.
The other was how the dead were buried. After the battle, all of the dead were quickly buried due to the warm weather. However, after the war a National Cemetery was created at Shiloh and all of the Union dead were unearthed and relocated. Most of the headstones in that cemetery now read Unknown or simply have a number on them. The Confederate dead were left in their trench graves, of which there are seven. For me, it never occurred to me that one side would be treated any differently than the other. That the men who died for the CSA would be left in mass graves while the Union men would be given a spot in a National Cemetery. For us today, they were all Americans, but apparently that's not how they were viewed then.
After the Battlefield I headed down to Corinth, Mississippi where I am for the night. Corinth was a strategic railroad hub during the war and was the reason for the battle at Shiloh. Today it is a sleepy town of about 15,000 with the most charming historic downtown and residential areas. The streets just north of downtown are quiet and shady, lined with towering oaks and beautiful homes of all shapes and sizes. Some homes proudly displaying the Stars and Stripes while others had gas lamps flickering over the front stoop. Wide porches housed swings and rockers and at one house, a couple of friendly cats. White picket fences accompanied cracked and undulating sidewalks, buckling from the brute strength of the oak roots beneath. For one block, the sidewalk was completely swallowed up by the spotty, shaggy grass. I kept expecting to see families having barbecues, neighbors lighting sparklers, anybody doing anything. It is a holiday after all. But this part of town was almost eerily quiet for the Fourth of July. I finally caught a whiff of lighter fluid and charcoal briquettes on the breeze, a smell necessary to any good summer holiday, but I couldn't quite figure out where it was coming from. At least someone was barbecuing. Where was everyone tonight?
Tomorrow I'll probably try to have lunch at Borroum's Drug Store, the oldest drug store operated by the same family in Mississippi and home to a local favorite, the Slug Burger. Apparently there are no slugs in it, so where the name comes from is a mystery to me. After lunch I'm headed to Memphis.
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