So, I spent the afternoon driving to, around, within, and from the site of the Battle of Sharpsburg (Antietam to Yankees and the National PArk Service). 23,000 casualties resulted from a two-day battle, and it was the lucky ones who died on the field.
That's more dead men than from the Spanish-American War and War of 1812 combined. Amazing, isn't it? The most frightening bit was walking up Sunken Road from the crossroads to the observation tower--20 feet wide and ten feet deep, it was filled to the brim with troops the day after the battle. The surgeons were using corn husks for bandages when Clara Barton arrived with desperately needed, and all too few, supplies.
But, enough about the unhappy bit. On to the glorious side of war.
I don't think there really was a glorious side to this particular battle, if indeed there ever is one.
But that's all an aside. The really cool part about this particular trip was the drive to and from--listening to a confirmed Southerner, a military kid, and a New Hampshirer debate with much gusto and many large words such topics as abolition, secession, Fort Sumpter, distributism, history, the South, the North, and the advertising habits of Burger King. Oh well. Everything went downhill when I started telling French Revolution jokes.
I think I see the problem...