Good morning once again! And welcome to Sunday Griot. Thank you for taking time out of your busy holiday weekend to come by for a story.
This week’s story is based on an actual event from America’s Civil War. It’s about the heroism of one man in harm’s way . . . but not in the way we usually think. It’s callled: “Water! Water!”
By the next morning the continuing skirmish was punctuated with cries from the wounded. “Water!” they cried. “Water!” But the Union soldiers couldn’t get to them; the Confederates wouldn’t let them approach.
The cries for water affected many of the soldiers, but none more than Sergeant Richard Kirkland. Kirkland was a member of General Kershaw’s Second Regiment of South Carolina Volunteers. Throughout the morning he listened to their cries, and finally he could take it no longer.
Kirkland made his way to Kershaw’s tent, saluted the general, and said, “Sir, all through last night and all through the morning I have heard the poor wounded Federal soldiers crying for water. I request permission to go give them some.”
The general sat back in his chair and looked up at the young sergeant. He wasn’t much to look at, but there was something about his earnestness that struck the general. “Sergeant, you realize of course that the moment you go over that wall you will probably get a bullet put through you.”
“Yes sir,” the young sergeant replied, “But I am willing to try.”
The air hung thick with cold and anticipation for a moment. In the background the men could hear the crack of a rifle, followed by a call for water. “Very well,” the general said at last. “I ought not let you go on this fool’s expedition, but the spirit that moves you is so noble I cannot refuse. Go, and may God protect you.”
The young sergeant saluted and left the tent. He gathered up a half dozen canteens, made sure they were full of water, and went for the wall. One or two of his fellow soldiers tried to stop him, but most, seeing what it was he meant to do, just watched in amazement.
On the other side of the battlefield, there was no less amazement when, during a lull in the skirmish, the Union soldiers saw a figure slip over the wall they had tried in vain to take the day before. A few took aim, but lowered their rifles when they saw that his hands in the air, and six canteens slung about his neck and shoulders. The Confederate soldier, keeping an eye on his foes a few yards away, carefully approached a wounded soldier calling out for water. He raised the canteen to the man’s lips and let him drink. Then Kirkland took the man’s backpack, propped his head up against it, and did his best to arrange the man’s broken limbs to make him as comfortable as possible under the circumstances.
“Hold your fire!” the call went up from both sides. “Hold your fire!”
Kirkland continued in this way, giving water to the parched soldiers until his canteens ran out. As he shook the last of the water out of the last canteen, he heard a thump behind him. He flinched and ducked, as any soldier on a battlefield would, and then heard two more thumps. When he looked up three canteens lay near him, tossed there by Union soldiers.
All that day Kirkland delivered water to the wounded.
I wish I had a happier ending than to tell you that Kirkland did not survive the war. He was killed at the battle of Chickamauga less than a year after Fredericksburg. His heroic service does not go unremembered, however; on Sunken Road near Fredericksburg, there is a monument to Kirkland, designed by sculptor Felix DeWeldon, who is better known for the monument commemorating the raising of the flag on Mount Suribachi during the Battle of Iwo Jima.
Memorial Day was the brain child of one Henry C. Welles, a druggist from Waterloo, New York. In 1865 he suggested a holiday to remember those who had fallen in the Civil War. The idea gained immediate traction, and by 1868 communities outside Waterloo were celebrating Decoration Day, as it was then called. General John A. Logan, commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, declared May 30 to be set aside to honor the nation’s fallen dead. In 1966 the date was changed to the last Monday in May, where it has been ever since.
The time was in this country when we took Memorial Day seriously. There were parades, speeches, layings of wreaths. We did some memorializing. We still see some of it today; they still hold Memorial Day ceremonies at Arlington National Cemetery, and some communities still hold Memorial Day parades. Including, I was happy to find out, Waterloo, New York.
Mostly, though, it seems like Memorial Day has just become an excuse to take off work. You see pages and pages of the newspaper devoted to three-day sales of everything from cars to soup, and the sheer volume of them dwarfs the amount of space given over to reflecting on the sacrifice made by those who gave their lives in service to their country. So, while I fully approve of getting a day off with pay, I thought it fitting to use today’s Sunday Griot to reflect, not just on those who died in battle, but to those like Sergeant Kirkland who brought a little humanity to the bloody business of war.
Water! Water! was adapted from a piece by a writer named Ben La Bree which was published in a book called “Good Stories for Great Holidays” published around the turn of the 20th century. The dialog, which sounds a bit stilted to my ear, was pulled from the story; the rest I embellished just a bit in the telling. Here’s a page dedicated to the Kirkland monument with a picture of Kirkland. Not much to look at? I wrote that before I saw the picture, but the point is, he wasn’t anything remarkable — except perhaps to those soldiers he brought water to.
Thank you all once again for taking time out of your holiday weekend to come visit! As always, cheers to all of you, and happy stories until we meet again.
What a great story of bravery and compassion. It is people like this soldier who are true heros. I feel such sadness that governments continue to send their men and women to die, for what??????????
Sometimes I guess it is worth it to die for your country, but in recent times it rings hollow in my ears. There must be a better way to settle difference, for example negotiations.
There’s a saying that dates back to the early days of the Republic: “Millions for defense; not one penny for tribute.” These days that could easily be recast as “Billions for defense and diplomacy; not one red cent to provoke and invade.”
Thanks for coming by, Diane! Glad to see you.