There are a number of childhood vacations that stand out in my mind, but none quite as clearly as our family trip to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I may have been 10 or 12 at the time and was a young enthusiast of all things military. I knew little of the Civil War, but did know that Gettysburg represented a turning point in the conflict, that the battle fought here had changed the course of the war and the course of American history. It fascinated me then and still does now. I remember gazing at Seminary Ridge and picturing troops marching down over it. I remember ascending Little Round Top and imagining bayonets clicking into place and soldiers charging ahead. I remember walking through Devil’s Den and thinking what it must have been like to hear muskets firing and canons roaring, the blasts echoing through the rocks. My young imagination went into overdrive that day. And, indeed, my imagination had to go into overdrive because on the day we visited, the battlefield was so very serene. It was nearly impossible to believe that it was the very same place where there had once been such brutality, such suffering, such bloodshed. The grass that day was green, well-tended, and undisturbed. Summer flowers grew up around the rocks and danced in the gentle breeze. Squirrels hopped and flitted about merrily. The few people around us walked calmly and talked gently as they poured over their maps and studied the host of monuments. There could hardly have been a greater … Continue reading When the Battlefield Goes Quiet