The War for the Union. The Improvised War, 1861.
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The War for the Union
The Improvised War, 1861
I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
3x military population
Railroad mileage—over 3x the CSA
Defensive war—a win or a tie
Knowledge of landscape
Nathaniel Lyon (1818-1861)
Benjamin McCulloch (1811-1862)
William Clarke Quantrill, 1837-1865
Company A, 9th Indiana Infantry
First Bull Run, July 21, 1861
Henry House Hill and Mighty Stonewall
One noonday, at my window in the town, I saw a sight — saddest that eyes can see — Young soldiers marching lustily Unto the wars,With fifes, and flags in mottoed pageantry; While all the porches, walks, and doors Were rich with ladies cheering royally.They moved like Juny morning on the wave, Their hearts were fresh as clover in its prime (It was the breezy summer time), Life throbbed so strong,How should they dream that Death in rosy clime Would come to thin their shining throng?Youth feels immortal, like the gods sublime.
Weeks passed; and at my window, leaving bed, By nights I mused, of easeful sleep bereft, On those brave boys (Ah War! thy theft); Some marching feetFound pause at last by cliffs Potomac cleft; Wakeful I mused, while in the streetFar footfalls died away till none were left. –Walt Whitman